CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I face time Talia immediately.

She picks up after one ring. “Hey.”

“Are you OK?”

“Yes?” Her eyebrows knit together.

“You said you needed help?”

“I do. With my outfit. My date is today.”

“Oh!” I slap my hand against my face, relief washing through me. “Jesus Christ, Talia, I thought you were in trouble, like someone had broken in or you hurt yourself.”

“Why would you . . .” She taps the screen, and her eyes move. “Ah. I see.”

“I cannot believe you texted me that as an opening line.” I scarf down cereal as fast as I can without getting sloppy. Apparently, I care how I eat in front of her now. When did that happen? My chest tightens.

“Well, don’t worry,” she says dryly. “The only thing in crisis right now is my confidence.”

I want to say something, hype her up, but everything that comes to mind suddenly sounds transparently romantic: You’re so gorgeous! Anyone would be lucky to go on a date with you! Everything you wear looks incredible! “I’m sorry! I wish I could come over right now, but I have practice and I don’t want to be late again.” I sound so stiff. Ugh. Act normal, Hayley. I get up, put the bowl in the sink, and rush upstairs to grab my basketball bag.

“Oh, right. Wait. Late again? Aren’t you the keyholder?”

“Yeah.” I grab the bag, sling it over my shoulder, and hustle out of the room. “I overslept the day after the concert and the whole team was waiting for me and had to cancel.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. Mariah said no one mentioned it to Coach, but . . . I just don’t want to mess up again. I want to make varsity, so I need to show her I can handle responsibility.” I’m outside now, jogging down to the corner to my bus stop. “I could come over after, though? What time is your date?”

“Not till later. We’re meeting up at five.”

“Great. I’ll see you at one.” At my stop, I scan the street and see I’m on time; my bus is just down the street. “I gotta go. Don’t panic.”

“I’ll do my best.” She grimaces and hangs up.

When I get to Talia’s house that afternoon, I’m sweaty—first from practice, then from riding on a hot, crowded bus. Before I turn onto her front walk, I stop behind the hedges and swipe on some more deodorant. My stomach does a little flip-flop. I never used to care about how I smelled around Talia, but . . .

Whatever. I’m not going to overthink it.

Talia swings open the door moments after I ring the doorbell. “At last, my savior is here!”

“At your service.” I spread my arms and do a little bow.

I follow her through the living room and toward the back of the house where her room is. When she opens the door, I see her closet is completely empty—and then I see her clothes, scattered over every surface. It’s a pure tornado of anxiety.

“Having trouble picking an outfit?” I smirk at her.

“No, I just missed your room,” she deadpans.

“I mean, I can’t blame you. I miss my room whenever I leave it, too.” I pick my way across the floor toward the bed.

“I think you just miss your bed.”

“Hey!” I throw her a sassy glare. “I do spend some time outside of the comfort of my boudoir.”

She raises an eyebrow as I sit on her bed. “Like when you’re in my bed?” A jolt goes through my chest, and her eyes widen at the same time. “I did not mean that the way it sounded!”

“You’re good!” I force a laugh and it comes out high-pitched, more like a cackle.

Talia’s bright red. I’m pretty sure we were just flirting. It was so easy; I didn’t even notice we’d slipped into it.

I stand back up. Gotta get off Talia’s bed. Can’t think about all the times we’ve laid here, so close together, talking about my crushes, her special interests, school, whether God actually exists, what love might feel like—

Shut up, brain.

“So, your outfit!” I grab the nearest shirt. “What about this?”

She wrinkles her nose, the blush fading. She’s so cute when she makes that expression.

“Or this?!” I grab another shirt. It’s a cute, silky button-up with a watermelon print all over it.

“Actually . . .” She steps forward and takes it. “That’s cute. I forgot I had that.”

“You have so many clothes. I didn’t realize that.” I look around.

“Yeah.” She sighs. “Half of it is stuff my mom buys me from the juniors department in whatever store she happens to be shopping in. I think she’s trying to be an ally, but . . . I want to look like myself, not her mini-me.” She points to the first shirt I grabbed. “That’s one of her picks.”

I look at it. It’s a powder blue cotton blouse with puffed sleeves. “It’s very . . .”

“Boring? The ugliest color ever?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I’m sure someone would love it, but not me.” She drapes the watermelon blouse over her shoulder and rummages around. “What about this? Over the shirt?” She holds up a pair of denim overalls. “I’ve been meaning to cut the legs on these into shorts.”

“Oh my god, yes!” I clap my hands. “With . . .” I scan the room and spot the accessory I’m looking for: Talia’s light-pink baseball cap that has BOY PROBLEMS embroidered in white letters. She’s a huge fan of Carly Rae Jepsen.

“That’s perfect.” She sets the clothes on her desk and looks around. “Would you help me put all this away?”

She grimaces at me, and this time when I laugh, it’s real.

Once Talia’s clothes are back where they’re supposed to be, I head home so she can focus on getting ready for her date. It’s a beautiful day out—mid seventies, with a perfect balmy breeze—but the pangs in my heart crackle like ice on the surface of a lake. In a few hours, Talia will be at Cal Anderson Park with Rose, sitting on a blanket, with a picnic of snacks and LaCroix. They’ll probably talk about astronomy, and whatever else they’ve been DM'ing about since the concert, and at some point . . .

I swallow, pushing away the mental image of Talia kissing Rose. Maybe it won’t happen today. Maybe their emotional connection isn’t strong enough yet.

This is the most confusing thing to ever happen to me. I want Talia to be happy, so I want her to have a great date—but also, the thought of her being on the date . . .

It hurts. I know that polyamory is a thing, but I haven’t even dated one person yet. I’m not ready to date multiple or know if I’d want to do that. Maybe it would be different if Talia even liked me back, but that’s not my reality.

This is my reality, and it sucks. Talia’s unintentional innuendo keeps popping into my head, and every time I get this squiggly feeling in my stomach. What would it be like to kiss Talia? To actually be in her bed in a romantic way?

It’s not like I haven’t noticed Talia’s lips before. They’re thin, with the tiniest, sweetest cupid’s bow, the bottom lip slightly bigger than the top. They turn up slightly at the corners, so she always looks like she’s smiling. She said it helps her mask in social situations when she doesn’t want people to know she’s autistic.

Wow.

If I’ve paid this much attention to her lips, it’s possible I’ve had this crush longer than I realized. I just never noticed, because . . .

Because neither of us were ever in a position to actually date someone? Because it was easier to identify crush feelings on people I didn’t know? Because it was less intimidating to like people who I knew deep down would probably never like me back?

Well, it doesn’t matter now. Talia has Rose. Rose seems great, and if Talia’s happy, that’s all I want.

I turn onto my street. Usually when I leave my hangouts with Talia, I feel great, but today I just feel heavy. Once I’m on my porch, I stand there for a second, then sigh and unlock the door. Inside, it’s quiet. Everyone is gone for the day. It’s so nice outside, and normally I might text my friends and see if anyone wants to hit the lake.

Right now, though, my bed sounds like a great place to be. I head upstairs. I’ll just lie down for a little bit. Maybe it’ll help me feel better.

A few hours later, I wake up with my phone on my face and evening sunlight turning the trees outside into gold. The phone falls to the bed with a light thump as I sit up, blinking at my room. I’m groggy and too warm, and most of all, thirsty.

I stand up slowly and stretch, coming back to my body, then grab my phone and head downstairs. In the kitchen, I fill a glass of water and sip it while I check my texts.

I see Ella’s first. Yeah I thought Sam seemed off the past few days. I can’t remember the last time I saw her cry.

Should we talk to her? I text back.

The ellipses pop up. Yeah. I’m on the bus home, are you around?

Yup.

Ok cool. Maybe we can strategize when I get there. Is she back from camp yet?

No . . . she usually is by now.

There’s a pause in Ella’s responses and then: I checked the family chat—she’s at a friend’s tonight. See you soon.

I’m behind on that thread, so I scroll through, and there it is: an exchange between Sam and Mom a few hours ago. I check the rest of my texts, and by “the rest,” I mean our friend group chat. There’s nothing from Talia; she must still be on her date. My heart aches and I ignore it, swiping through the memes and videos I missed while I was asleep. Then, at the end of the group chat, Kev asks: What’s the next step in the strategy? We gotta get you a date now Hayley, right?

I stare at the text. When Talia and I paused the strategy, we forgot to tell the others, and then I went and reactivated it at the concert when I freaked out. I know I could probably just tell them it’s on hold, but if Talia is going to start dating Rose . . .

Well, it would probably help me get over my crush to find a date of my own.

Our final step was to hit up one of my teammates’ birthday parties, I say. Half the team has summer birthdays, so someone usually hosts a blow-out. I’ll do some recon.

Excellent, Kev says.

Jacob sends an emoji with sunglasses and a dancing man.

Bri replies with a GIF of some cartoon character twerking.

I send back a laughing emoji.

And Talia?

Nothing.

“Greetings, sister dearest,” a voice says, and I yelp and drop my phone—luckily, only a few inches to the counter. Ella laughs as she passes me and grabs a snack bar from the cabinet.

“We need to put bells on you,” I say.

She smirks and climbs into a chair beside me at the counter. “So. Sam.”

“Right.” I slowly spin my phone with both hands. “It’s weird. She’s not really much for avoiding things.”

“Yeah, she’s more of a mic-drop-and-walk-away type,” Ella says around a mouthful of crunchy granola. “Do you think she’s having problems with someone at camp?”

“I mean, camp’s almost over. She seemed pretty peppy up until today. She was a little off on movie night, though.”

“Yeah, I noticed. She got really quiet at the end of the night.”

“She’s been going to friends’ houses a lot—”

“She has been doing that more and more the past few weeks.” Ella nods. “I think it’s one of her camp friends, too. So she’ll probably stay with that friend until she can’t avoid whatever’s bothering her anymore.”

“Huh.” I rest my chin in my hand and stare out the window at the backyard. Dad’s vegetable garden is going strong. “OK. But she can’t miss Family Fun Friday.”

“It’s a sacred tradition,” Ella says dryly.

“So we corner her then?” I ask.

“Yeah. After we go up to bed.”

We fist bump and sit there together in silence for a minute.

“What about you?” Ella asks. Her voice is light—too light.

I side-eye her. “I’m fine.”

“I’m just asking.” She shrugs. “Also, I don’t believe you. You’ve been moping around the house all week. Did the strategy flop or something?”

I grimace before I can hide my reaction.

“I knew it,” she says.

“It didn’t flop! Talia found someone. And I had that date with Mel. Even though it didn’t go anywhere.”

“Talia found someone? How’s that going?”

“Great,” I say. “They’re on their second date right now. It’s cute.”

Ella laughs. “Hayley, you are such a bad liar.”

“I’m not lying!” I glare at her. “You don’t know everything.”

“Sure,” Ella says. “But I don’t need to when you use that tone of voice. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I mumble.

She sighs. “Look. I know you’re usually the avoider of the family, but don’t make me run an intervention for you, too. Whatever it is is going to catch up with you eventually, so deal with it. Just some older sister advice.”

My stomach twists at her words. I roll my eyes. “You’re only two years older than me!”

She shrugs. “Just think about it.”