August lies on my bed, surrounded by my discarded dress options.
“What about this one?” I ask.
He props himself up on one elbow. “Great.”
“That’s what you said about the last three.”
“They’re all great.”
“Ugh. I swear, August, that’s not helpful. I don’t need great; I need wow. Like, a whole lotta wow. People are going to start showing up soon.”
“By ‘people,’ you mean Bentley.”
I give him an “I mean business” glare. “Don’t even think about starting in on him. I have way too many jitters as it is. So if you insist on going down this road, I will sucker punch you into submission.”
The corners of his mouth tilt up. For a second, he’s silent, and then he sighs out his resignation. “The white one with the low back.”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
“I was secretly hoping you’d pick that one.” I beam, snatching it off my vanity chair.
I step into my bathroom to get changed, and when I come out, he’s lying with his hands folded behind his head, dreamily staring at nothing.
“Thinking about the case?” I ask, even though I know without a doubt that he’s thinking about Ella. August doesn’t dreamily stare. Ever.
“I just can’t believe you got Amber and Justin on tape,” he says.
I plop down at my vanity and unzip my makeup bag. “I know. Craziest thing ever. I found the pot of gold; I’m basically a leprechaun. Too bad we can’t use it without blowing our cover and the case with it. There’s no way to explain why I recorded it.”
August sighs. “Do you think Amber will follow through on her threat to tell Ella?”
I lean close to the mirror as I put on eyeliner. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe? I’d say most people wouldn’t throw themselves under the bus like that. But if she’s angry enough with Justin, it’s possible she’d do it just to get back at him.”
August stares at my ceiling like he’s doing mental calculus.
“Of course, with a little prodding and planning on our part,” I continue, “I think we can get Amber to admit it. It’ll wrap up this case in a neat little bow.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, but his heart isn’t in it.
“You’re saying yes, but I’m hearing no,” I say, shooting him a questioning glance through the mirror.
He brushes off my objection. “Have you heard from Leah or Amber?”
I shake my head. “Have you heard from Ella?”
“Not really,” he says.
“Anything I should know?”
He shrugs, but his cheeks flush.
And for a split second, I feel sidelined. “You know that you’ve literally never done this on a case before.”
“Done what?”
“Not tell me every detail. You hung out with her all afternoon. It’s weird how little you said. This is a job . . . one we’re both doing.”
He sits up, considering it. But all he offers is, “I don’t know.”
“You could talk to me about it, you know. Tell me how you feel about Ella,” I say, trying to push my grievance aside in favor of support.
“Tiny,” he says like I just embarrassed him.
“I’m serious.”
But he doesn’t respond.
“What’s your deal? Why don’t you tell me things anymore?”
“I talk to you constantly,” he says like I’m making something out of nothing.
Why are guys so impossible? “Let me ask you this then—does it bother you that Ella’s a case? Do you wish she wasn’t?”
August winces. “Kinda.” And then with a sigh he says, “Yes.” After a long beat he adds, “Would it be crazy if we—” He stops abruptly, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.
“Crazy if we what?”
He looks so vulnerable that for a second, I don’t recognize him. “If we . . . tell Ella?” he says, his voice quieter.
“Tell Ella what? About Justin? You know that’d only put us in the hot seat. Way better if Amber does it.” But by the look on his face, that’s not what he meant at all. And suddenly it clicks. “Holy shit. Do you mean tell her the truth?”
Suddenly, he’s off my bed and standing. “Never mind. It was stupid.”
“You actually want to tank this case?” I ask in a shocked tone. I knew he had a crush on her, but I never imagined in a million years that he’d feel strongly enough to suggest something so reckless.
His face turns bright red. “I’m going to see if your mom needs any help,” he says and exits my room before I can say another word, leaving me speechless.
My first thought is hopeful—that my best friend is having real feelings and that maybe this means he’s finally peeking out from behind The Wall. But my second thought is pure anxiety. Not for the loss of the case—that I can get over—but for the risk it poses to August. I can’t imagine in a million years that if he tells Ella the truth she won’t hate him. Not to mention that Ella’s father told him in no uncertain terms not to kiss his daughter—falling in love with her is totally out of the question. And what happens if he opens up for the first time in forever and gets brutally shut down? One step forward and thirty-five steps back, that’s what.