“It’s already forgotten.”
“This is way more fun. I love when we play.”
“We’re not playing anything.”
“Sure we’re not,” he says. “I’ll see you later at the cook-off.”
“I can barely hold back my excitement.”
Sebastian knocks my shoulder with his when he moves toward the bread aisle. I pretend like it doesn’t send a jolt of electricity up my spine. “Don’t miss my pretty face too much until then.”
“Missing you isn’t part of the plan,” I answer, desperate to get away from him. “It’s never been part of the plan.”
“We’ll see about that,” he calls out, and when I have to suppress a smile, I hate him more than I did ten minutes ago.
Nate the Great
Seb ran into Quincy at the grocery store.
Coop There It Is
And the earth is still rotating? Impressive.
How did it go?
She asked about my inflated ego. I said she must think about me when I’m not around.
The games are just beginning, boys.
“Admit it.” Cooper doles out a ladle of chili into a Styrofoam bowl. He spins the dish around, inspects it, then flicks off a rogue piece of chopped onion. “This is top-tier entertainment.”
“Standing over a portable stove in ninety-five-degree weather is fun?” Nate fans his face. He scowls and reaches for his water bottle, downing half the drink. “I work in front of an oven every day and I’m bordering on a heatstroke. This was a stupid idea.”
“Which is worse?” I ask. “The open flame or having to talk to people and act like you’re having a good time?”
“The people. Mrs. Johnson, one of the regulars at the greenhouse, stopped by ten minutes ago. I went through an interrogation where she asked if I’m planning on settling down one of these days or if a bouquet of coreopsis will read the eulogy at my funeral because I’m going to die alone.”
“You’ll be back with your plants soon, but both of you could use the camaraderie.” Cooper motions to the city park swarmingwith people. He waves at someone sitting in a fold-up chair on the grass then fixes the apron tied around his neck until the strings are arranged in a neat bow. “Sebby is a resident in a city of eight million. He doesn’t get a lot of closeness these days.”
“Please. There’s plenty of camaraderie.” I sprinkle shredded cheese in the bowl Coop dished out and drop a spoon in it, proud of my contribution to the group project. “Many things around Manhattan don’t involve an open flame.”
“True.” Coop tops the dish with a lime wedge and gives his plating a thumbs-up. “But now you’re with your best friends. You can’t beat that, can you?”
“Aren’t y’all cute?” Mia’s voice rings in my ears, appearing at our table with ink stains on her fingers and her curls pulled away from her face. “The three of you together is a recipe for disaster, and I hear you’re already heading that way. Bothering my best friend in the grocery store the second you get back to town, Seb? That’s not very nice.”
“Who said anything about bothering? I happened to run into her in a public place. Last I checked, that wasn’t against the law. And it wasn’t the second I got back to town. I had breakfast first.” I flash my sister a smile when she rolls her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping the girls beat your sorry asses in the cook-off.”
She points to the other side of the park, and it’s the first time I’ve looked past the charcuterie boards spread out on picnic blankets and the band set up on a small stage.
It’s also the first time I’m noticing Quincy, dark hair up in a bun on top of her head. Jean shorts covering tan skin. Long denim threads brushing against the tops of her thighs. I drag my eyes away from her stomach and the sliver of exposed skin under the hem of her shirt, knowing if I get caught staring, I might end up with a bowl of chili in my face.
I distract myself by grabbing the knife Cooper set out and slicing a lime in two. It’s better than paying attention to what’s happening over there. How Quincy is talking to the people who come up to her table and gesturing to the sky, then the trees. The way she laughs at a story Harlow is telling, her shoulders shaking from the punch line of a joke I can’t hear.
I cut a second lime, then a third, not glancing up until I have a whole army of citrus in front of me.
“Why is your face red?” Cooper touches my cheeks, panic in his tone. “Are you sick? Oh, fuck. Are you allergic to something in the chili?”
