Great. I’m dinnertime conversation.
Pass the salt—oh! and remember my pathetic friend who used to fix all my homework?
“You know what?” Harper's eyes light up. “We could move the study group to Friday. That way, you could come! It’s so sad that you’re always alone on weekends.”
Always alone.
The words hang there like a neon sign.
PIPER RENNER, TRAGIC SPINSTER.
I mean, she’s not wrong.
But did she have to say it out loud?
My chopstick creaks under pressure. “Actually... I’m not totally free, I just remembered. I have plans Saturday night.”
Both their heads tilt in sync.
Disgusting.
“Plans?” Miles’s voice sharpens.
“A party.” The lie builds momentum. “With someone. A guy. We’re... It’s a whole thing.”
Harper practically vibrates. “Oh my god, who? Do we know him?”
“Ethan. Prescott.” Why am I still talking? “We’re going together. To this party. As a... we’re sort of...”
“Casual?” Harper supplies helpfully. “That’s so fun! I mean, I’m way too needy for casual—totally monogamous—but good for you! Get it, girl!”
Miles’s jaw tightens. Since freshman year, he’s never seen me with anyone else. Never seen me want anyone but him.
Petty satisfaction burns through my chest.
And now I’m pretty determined to piss him off.
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “It’s casual but also... not. We’re figuring it out.”
“That’s wonderful!” Harper gushes.
But Miles—Miles looks like someone changed his WiFi password. “Ethan Prescott? The game design guy?”
“The ex-quarterback,” Harper adds, eyes wide. “Oh, he’s gorgeous. Those shoulders!”
I shrug like I hadn’t noticed. Like I don’t think about those shoulders approximately every five minutes.
“How long has this been going on?” Miles asks with that fake-casual voice—the one he used when fishing for information he had no right to want.
“Few weeks.” I stab a piece of pickled ginger with unnecessary force. “We’re keeping it low-key, but he’s... he’s great.”
Why am I doing this? Why can’t I stop talking?
“That’s so wonderful!” Harper reaches over and touches my wrist. I fight the urge to jerk away. “I’m really happy you found someone.”
She’s so goddamn sincere it makes my teeth hurt.
I want to hate her. Want her to be some vapid mean girl who stole my best friend. Instead she’s sitting here genuinely celebrating my fake relationship with her perfect manicure and her perfect smile and her perfect boyfriend who used to be mine.
