I pull open my kitchen cupboard, eyes glazing over as I stare at the pile of plates in front of me.
Arden.
I can’t believe she’s here in Barnwich. Part of me still thinks I must have wrecked it too hard off the ladder, because it’s just so completely unbelievable that she was actually at Edie’s diner, asking me to—
“Earth to Caroline,” Riley says through an empty paper towel roll, pressing one side flat against my ear.
I swat her away and grab the plates. I place one down in front of every chair at the table, as Miles trails behind me, adding a cup next to each.
“You good?” Levi asks, juggling an armful of utensils.
“Yeah. Just…”
Annoyed? Shocked? Wondering if the universe is playing some giant trick on me?
“Tired,” I settle on, as my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I expect to see Taylor’s name, since we’ve been casually texting since the basketball game. Or, she’s been casually texting, and I’ve been stressing over every word I send back. We like the same canceled sapphic TV shows, the same kind of pizza from Taste of Italy (with pineapple) the same kind of music. And, well, slowly but surely it’s starting to feel good. Maybe not romantic just yet, but good.
Instead of a text from Taylor, though, it’s a message from an unknown number that appears over Blue’s fuzzy black ears.
are you busy?
who is this? I reply, though I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
My phone buzzes again and a selfie of Arden pops onto my screen, confirming my suspicion with a thumbs-up and a cheeky smile.
got your number from grams :)
I feel a flash of annoyance, because my number has never changed in all these years. Only hers did. I let out a long sigh and start to type out that I’m about to eat dinner when there’s a knock on the front door.
I look slowly up from my phone, eyebrows furrowing. Mom and Dad exchange a quizzical look too overtop the enormous serving plate they’re dumping the pasta into.
No. It can’t be. I glance down at the selfie Arden just sent, recognizing the white columns of our porch, a blurry Bertha parked just past her head.
“I got it,” I squeak out, walking briskly down the hall.
When I throw open the door, sure enough, there she is, standing underneath the glow of the porch light, snow in her long brown hair. She stops blowing on her hands to grin at me, and I roll my eyes.
“You have got to be kidding m—”
The words aren’t even out of my mouth before Blue zips past me, launching himself at Arden, his body a blur from all the wiggling.
“Traitor,” I mutter, shaking my head as she stoops down to scratch his ears and Blue coats her in kisses. Though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised: she’s the one who gave him to me.
“He’s gotten so big,” Arden says, and I remember how small he was that day she rescued him off the side of the road, a tiny head popping out the neckhole of Arden’s sweatshirt, the two of them soaked through and shivering from the rain.
“Funny how time works,” I say instead. She winces and stands, brushing her pants off.
“Listen, Caroline. I wanted to say—” she starts, but then a voice shouts loudly from the kitchen.
“Who’s there?”
I frantically try to think of a way to hide her before they can invite her in, but before I can slam the door in her face or grab her arm and shove her into the hall closet, Levi peeks around the corner, followed by Riley and Miles. “Oh shit!” Levi says. “It’s Arden!”
I barely have time to get out of the way before everyone comes barreling down the hallway, a chorus of footsteps and voices.
“Oh, Arden! Look at you!”
“Did you get taller?”
“Why are you in Barnwich?”
“Is Scarlett Johansson as hot in person as she is on TV?”
My dad whacks Levi for that last one before pulling Arden inside, and soon everyone is hugging and laughing like it’s Christmas morning and Santa Claus himself has come busting through our front door.
“You have to stay for dinner!” my mom says, squeezing Arden’s face between her hands.
“Oh, I ate at my Grams’s,” she tries, but my mom is already grinning, an eyebrow ticking up.
“Marc made his chocolate mousse brownies….”
Arden’s eyes widen, and she looks at my dad, who nods. “A double batch.”
“Well, I mean… in that case…”
The words are barely out of her mouth before Miles helps her take her Saint Laurent jacket off and chucks it in my direction to hang up in the closet.
“Unbelievable.” I shake my head after it smacks me in the face. But everyone is already halfway down the hall, leaving me in the entryway while they whisk her off to dinner.
I hang up the jacket, then squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep, steadying breath. In… and…
I pop an eye open and glare at the jacket in front of me, my attempt at a peaceful moment ruined by Arden’s sandalwood smell radiating off the expensive fabric.
Groaning, I close the closet door and clomp down the hall to find her squeezed in next to Riley, who is already talking her ear off, directly across from my empty chair.
“My soccer team? We’re the best. Coach thinks we have a really good chance at making states next year, since we have so many returning players.”
“States?” Arden says, her eyes remaining focused on Riley as I slide into my seat. She’s always had that ability to give her undivided attention to whoever she’s talking to, like earlier at the diner, but it’s been made all the more magnetic by her time in Hollywood. “That’s super impressive. You guys must be really good.”
She’s a talented actress, I’ll give her that much.
“Do you think if we made it to states, you’d come watch?” Riley asks.
“Uh, yeah. Maybe!” Arden says, and I can’t help but chuckle into my water glass.
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
Levi kicks me as he hands me a plate of pasta, and I glare at him. Of course they’re acting like nothing happened. Like she didn’t ditch me, and all of us, for that matter, only returning when it benefits her.
Since clearly no one else is going to say anything, I do my best to focus on the noodles in front of me instead of the girl across from me, but it proves to be… incredibly difficult. She talks to Miles and Levi about the bar, insisting she has to come check it out. She talks to my mom about the firm and finds out they apparently both know the same pain-in-the-ass lawyer in the entertainment industry. She talks to my dad about the new pasta recipe he tried tonight, telling him how the celeb-frequented Italian spot down the street from her house couldn’t hold a candle to it.
And all I can do is sit here and watch them fall for her act, while counting down the seconds until this dinner is over. Until she is out of this house, with her familiar laugh and familiar movements and familiar smell but completely unfamiliar life.
No, better yet, until she’s out of Barnwich altogether, and I can just keep remembering her as the Arden who once was instead of the Arden who is, the reality of her homecoming souring the one I used to dream about even further.
“So,” my mom says as she puts down her fork and laces her fingers together. “What is a big famous Hollywood star doing back here in Barnwich?”
“Well.” I look up as Arden’s head turns toward me. She avoids my gaze, clearing her throat. “I’m, uh… here for an article. In Cosmopolitan.”
I laugh, and everyone’s attention shifts to me.
“Way to conveniently leave out the bit about how you lied to a director and now you need me to ‘pretend to be your girlfriend’ to save your reputation for a part.”
Arden gives the table a sheepish grin, and Levi and Miles try not to chuckle, hiding their faces in their napkins.
Riley, meanwhile, has far less subtlety. “Who would believe you’re dating Arden?”
My cheeks burn, and I grab ahold of my water glass and take a long sip.
“Hey,” my dad says, giving me an enthusiastic smile. “Maybe you can find a way to add it into your extracurriculars for your college application!”
Sure. Dating Arden James. An extracurricular. I’ll put that down right next to editor in chief. I mean, I want to write articles, not be in them.
I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my head back to look up at the ceiling as my mom squeezes Arden’s arm.
“Well, whatever the reason, let’s toast to Arden! Home for Christmas.”
I… am so done.
“Yeah,” I snort, pushing my chair back and getting up from the table. “About four Christmases too late.” My plate and utensils clatter noisily as I drop them into the kitchen sink and then head for my room.