CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I play the game for a while, and as it goes on and no one calls me out, I feel more at ease. My teammates are all acting normal, so I guess Coach and Mariah are right. They really don’t hate me. It’s not the end of the world that I messed up.

Eventually I get bored and slip out of the tree house while they’re all laughing about someone admitting to eating their own boogers. We’re on the east side of Capitol Hill, and the sun has vanished behind it now, the sky turning a deep blue as evening approaches. The lights strung on the arbor above the patio are on, casting a magical golden glow over the kids eating burgers at the tables. My stomach growls.

Maybe I can talk to Talia tonight after all. But first, I need some food.

Bri’s flipping burgers at the grill, with Victoria’s dad overseeing. They look up and smile as I approach. “Look at this! You can call me grillmaster now!”

“They’re a natural,” Victoria’s dad says. “I gotta hit the bathroom. You got this?”

“Oh yeah,” Bri says, waving him away.

I grab a paper plate and bun from the table beside the grill, loading up with toppings: pickles, bell peppers, lettuce, mayo, mustard, ketchup. Bri plops a burger on top of all of it, then deposits the remaining patties onto another plate. They fix up their own burger as I stand there chomping on mine.

“So have you talked to her yet?” They narrow their eyes at me.

I shake my head. “I’m going to, though,” I say through a mouthful. “I promise.”

They pause, staring at me. “Really?”

I nod, even though I don’t feel half as sure as I sound. I already wish I hadn’t said anything. The comfort of Mariah’s pep talk and the tree house vibes are wearing off, and the anxiety is coming back.

“Well, here’s your chance.” Bri lifts a hand in the direction of the house. Talia’s at the drink coolers, her back to me. “She ended things with Rose, by the way.”

The back of my neck prickles. No more Rose. Just me and Talia, both single. If this were a movie, this would be the moment everything comes to a head. We’d talk and cry and fall into each other’s arms. And maybe even kiss.

“I’ll hold your food,” Bri says, already reaching for my plate. I let them take it.

I can’t walk this back now. If I can make it through letting down my teammates, then I should be able to talk to my best friend.

I take a deep breath and head toward Talia, the noise of the party fading as I focus on her.

She shuts the cooler as I come up, turning with a drink in her hand and stepping toward me at the same time. Our eyes meet and she freezes.

So do I.

I did not think this through.

“Hey,” I blurt out.

She stares at me, clutching the can close to her chest. We stand there for what feels like minutes.

“Can we talk?” I ask, because I don’t know where to start.

She nods.

“Um. OK. I was just wondering. Are we OK?”

“Are we OK.” Her voice is flat and her forehead sinks into a frown.

“Yeah. Um. I texted the group to explain what happened after the panic attack, and you didn’t respond.”

She lets out a breath slowly. “I just . . . don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that before. Why you told the whole group and didn’t text me first. I called and texted you a million times right after the date, but you didn’t respond.”

“I know.” I’m grasping for words, but they aren’t coming. I know I need to tell her the whole truth, but I don’t know how, especially here, in front of all these people. I’m sweating. Maybe they’re all staring at us right now, watching us break down. Are we breaking down? Is this it for our friendship? “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” Her voice cracks. “I thought we were best friends.”

“We are!” I say. If she cries, I’ll cry. The words are right there in the back of my throat, but I can’t force them out.

She sets down her can on top of the fridge, flexing her hands, then flapping them. She’s getting overloaded. “A best friend wouldn’t—wouldn’t—wouldn’t—” She flaps faster and then whirls, striding away from me around the corner of the house.

I follow her, dodging around groups of kids chattering in the spaces between the tables. Talia’s moving quickly, already around the side of the house now. It’s not as well-lit here; there are tiny solar lamps along the footpath, but all they really show me is my feet as I speedwalk after her. I can see her shadow disappearing around the front of the house, and I break into a jog, almost stumbling on a tree root.

The front gate clicks closed, and I pull it open. Talia’s on her phone, the blue light making her face glow. The street is still and quiet; we’re the only ones out here.

“Talia,” I say.

She looks up. There are tears on her cheeks. “What?!” she snaps.

Her tone is a bolt to my chest. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” She looks down at her phone again and taps the screen a few times.

“Why?”

“Are you serious?” She whirls to face me head-on. “You ignore me for a week, you avoid me for this entire party—” her voice breaks. “Bri said you liked me!”

Oh. Of course. Bri said they wouldn’t tell Talia, but they did. My heart sinks.

“And the thing is, I . . .” She presses her hands to her eyes. “I like you, too! I’ve known it since I figured out I’m demi! You’re the second person I’ve ever had a crush on.”

Oh my god.

It was me.

I was the second crush. Just like that, my heart is lifting, like it’s on the most dramatic roller coaster ever. Talia liked me this whole time, before I even knew my own feelings. I can’t believe it.

She barrels on. “And I thought maybe you liked me, too, but then you told me to go after Rose and I thought for sure you didn’t. So I tried to give them a chance, but all I could think about this whole week was you and our friendship and whether you were OK, and how I wanted to just come over and hold you and never let go—” She’s sobbing now.

“Bri was right,” I say, reaching both hands out to her, but she doesn’t close the gap. “I do like you! But I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so I thought if you went out with Rose again, you’d get together with them and then I could get rid of my crush, and everything would be OK!”

“Oh my god.” She squeezes her hands into fists at her sides. “You—that’s why you wanted me to go out with Rose?! For your own benefit?”

“No!” I’m crying now, too. “I didn’t mean it that way! I just wanted you to be happy. I like you so much, Talia, please.”

“That’s not enough,” she chokes out and then she folds over into a crouch, gripping her hair with her hands.

“I’m sorry,” I sob, crouching beside her, reaching out to her again.

“Don’t touch me!” She snaps, and I yank it back. “Meltdown.”

“OK. OK. I won’t touch you.” I look wildly around. Talia’s melted down in front of me before, but never on a dark street in a neighborhood we don’t know. I could scream for help, but that might make her sensory overwhelm even worse. I could run into the backyard and get someone, but I don’t want to leave her alone. I don’t want to mess this up even more than I already have.

A car pulls up, and my heart flips for a second, but then I recognize it. Her mom steps out. “Sweetie?”

Talia makes a wordless noise and her mom strides over, kneeling beside her, talking to her in a quiet voice. After a moment, Talia nods. Her mom guides her upright, hands on her shoulders, then directs her to the passenger side. I’m frozen, unable to do or say anything. She opens the door and I watch as Talia disappears into the front seat.

Her mom buckles her in and shuts the door. “What happened? Are you girls OK?”

“We . . .” I don’t know what to say.

“Did you have a fight?” Her mom’s face softens.

I nod, because it’s the easiest thing to do. I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m going to call your parents, OK, honey?” she says. “You just go back inside the gate and wait until they get here.”

I nod again, because there’s nothing else I can do. I’ve never had a fight with Talia before. This is our first one, and it feels like the end of everything, like I’ve actually ruined our friendship.

I go back inside the yard and slump on the front step. A few minutes later, I hear Talia’s car pull away. Then the street is silent again. And I’m alone. People laugh in the backyard, but it’s muffled. I stare down at the front walk. My face is wet from tears, but I can’t summon the energy to wipe them away.

My phone pings. Oh right. My phone.

On my way, Mom says. Stay where you are.

I couldn’t move if I wanted to. All the adrenaline and panic are draining from my body, leaving me feeling like a lead weight.

A stick cracks, and I startle, scanning the darkness on either side of the house.

“It’s me.” Bri steps out from the side of the house.

I stare at them as they edge into the glow of the porch light. They fidget nervously with their hands, cracking their knuckles and flexing their fingers over and over.

“I’m so sorry. I heard everything,” they say. “I followed you because I was worried, but then I figured . . . I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Anger roars to life in my chest. “Yeah, I think you’ve done enough,” I snap, and their head jerks back slightly.

“I’m sorry,” they whisper.

“It’s too fucking late for that.” My voice cracks as fresh tears roll down my face. “I can’t believe you told her.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It just kind of came out. We were talking, and she was so upset and then she told me, and I—I didn’t think. I was worried you were going to keep ignoring things, and if she knew, then she could talk to you and everything would be OK again—”

“This isn’t about you!” I stand up, and they step back. “You’re always so concerned about our friend group, but I’m part of the group, too! This wasn’t your secret to tell!”

“I know,” they say, voice pleading.

“Hayley?”

We both turn to the gate. My mom is standing there, silhouetted by the streetlights.

“I think it’s time to go, honey,” she says softly, and that’s all I need. I stride past Bri, not even looking at them, and out toward our car idling at the curb. A moment later, Mom gets in from the driver’s side, and we pull away. She doesn’t say anything, just puts her hand on my knee.

I reach out and curl my hand around hers. As we leave the neighborhood, my chest cracks open, the numbness gone and the pain filling my body, and I sob all the way home.

I spend the weekend in bed. Talia doesn’t text me. Neither does Bri. Which is good, because Bri’s the last person I want to hear from. If it wasn’t for them pushing me to talk to Talia, maybe we wouldn’t have fought. If my friends hadn’t forced me to come to the party, if Bri had just kept their mouth shut, if . . .

If I’d just been honest with Talia to begin with.

Talia likes me back. Or liked me. I have no idea if she still does.

If I’d only said something earlier, everything would have worked out. We’d be holding hands right now instead of fighting.

I watch episode after episode of cartoons, trying to think about literally anything else. My eyes are fixed on the screen, but all I can see are memories of my friendship with Talia, all the moments that shine differently in this new light now. The way she smiled at me and held my gaze whenever we talked. The way I couldn’t help but notice what she wore every time I saw her. The way she’s always been down for whatever wild scheme I’ve come up with, and the way she’s come up with her own, sometimes just because of me—like the summer love strategy.

Did she like me then? Did I like her? Does it matter if neither of us knew about our own feelings?

I keep hearing her words in my head over and over: “That’s not enough.”

She’s right. My feelings for her don’t erase the pain I caused her. I can’t hide behind my fear forever and let what happened in sixth grade rule my life. There’s more to being in a relationship than I thought when we started all this; Bri and Karina showed me that. Feelings aren’t always enough.

I need to put in the work.

And Talia’s not the only person I need to apologize to. Maybe it’s a small thing, but it’s been weighing on me the way I treated Brenna at our date. I don’t have her number, and I definitely don’t have Rose’s, and I can’t exactly ask Talia, so I search through socials instead. I find Rose on Talia’s follower list, and through Rose, I find Brenna.

Hey, I write. I wanted to say sorry for the way I acted on our date. I was totally checked out, but it wasn’t because of you. I have feelings for Talia, and I was trying to hide them and not handling it well, so I panicked and ran out on all of you, which wasn’t cool. You’re really awesome though, and I hope you find someone amazing.

I send the DM.

My phone pings. There’s a heart reaction on my message, and a minute later a reply pops up. Hey, it’s cool! I wasn’t hurt, I was just kind of worried and hoped you were OK. If you ever wanna just hang as friends sometime, let me know.

I heart react back. I could see that, actually.

That night, I sleep better than I have in a while. Nothing’s really fixed, but I did something I can be proud of and that’s enough right now.

On Sunday evening, I hear a soft knock on my door. When I grunt, my mom opens it and peeks through.

“Hi, honey. How you doing?”

I shrug. I’d managed to tell her the full story when we got home Friday night and sobbed for hours while she rubbed my back and said reassuring things that I can’t really remember now.

“Do you feel up to seeing someone?”

I sit up. “Who is it?”

“Bri.”

For a minute, I want to say no. Want to send them away, burrow deeper into my bed, and never come out.

But I’m tired of running from my life. I maybe—probably—definitely fucked things up with Talia already. I don’t have to fuck them up with the rest of my friends.

“Sure,” I say. “I gotta put on pants. Can you tell them I’ll meet them on the porch?”

She nods, a small smile brightening her eyes. “You got it.”

When she’s gone, I slide out of bed and grab my sweats. First one leg, then the other. I take a deep breath, then head downstairs.

When I step outside, Bri stands up from the bench on our front porch. It’s well past sunset, and mosquitoes are circling the porch lights. I take a step toward them, and behind me, the screen door clicks as it swings back into place. My bare feet are steady on the cool hardwood.

“Hey,” Bri says, their voice quieter than usual.

“Hi.”

We stand looking at each other, at least for as long as two neurodivergent people can. After a few seconds, we both look away, me at the mosquitoes bouncing off the lamp glass, them at the fidget toy in their hands.

“I’m really sorry,” they say after a moment. “You’re right. I was worried about you, but I was also worried about our group. And I shouldn’t have told Talia about your crush.”

“Thanks,” I say. Without warning, tears well up, and when I speak again, my voice is ragged. “I also wish . . . I wish I’d listened to you and talked to Talia.”

They laugh, and I can hear by the watery sound of it that they’re starting to cry, too. “Maybe we can both be right.”

“Yeah.” I sneak a glance at them and am surprised to see them looking at me. Their eyes are hesitant but full of love. I know what they said is true. Maybe they didn’t go about it the best way, but they care about me and Talia. And our friends.

“Can I hug you?” I ask, and they nod, stepping forward until we’ve got our arms wrapped tight around each other in the warm night.

After a minute, they give me a squeeze and we let go.

“You wanna . . . ?” They motion at the bench, and I nod. We both sit, looking out at the quiet street and the houses across from us, their windows glowing softly.

It feels almost too easy, that we could both apologize and have everything be OK again, just like that. But maybe that’s how it should be. Maybe all the trust I’ve built with my friends over time—telling them about the things I’m fixated on instead of hiding them, letting out my bubbly energetic side and never being told that I’m too much, asking them for help navigating my crushes instead of relying only on Talia—maybe this is the payoff. It’s not just me and Talia against the world. I have more friends now, and even though we’re not romantic, they all fit the qualities on my summer love strategy list, too. Funny. Encouraging. Easy to be around. Fun to talk to. Values friendship. Likes me for who I am. And one more: will reach out to me when I’m struggling.

Talia fits all those things, too, and so much more that I can’t even put into words. I want to hold her hand. I want to kiss her. I want to make her happy. I feel like my heart is going to explode when I think about her. Crush feelings. And the other feelings too: a depth, a solidity, a calmness that could be love. Real love.

The person I was looking for was right in front of me all along. And when I think about it . . . I fit my own list, too. Or at least, I could. I just need to reach out to Talia. We’re both struggling and maybe I can’t fix it, but I can at least try.

I take a deep breath and turn to face Bri. “I want to tell Talia. I mean, I know she already knows. But I want to do it right, the way I should have. And apologize.”

“We could go now,” Bri says, shifting like they’re going to stand up.

“No, no,” I say, and it’s not avoidance behind my words. Well, maybe a little. But it’s more than that. “I want to tell her the way she deserves to be told. I want her to feel . . .” My throat closes up and I swallow, blinking back tears. Bri takes my hand. “I want her to feel how special she is to me.” I smile at Bri. “I think there’s one more step in the summer love strategy. Will you help me?”