Page 104 of The Breakup Artists

“Well, I don’t need her telling Ella.”

“Telling Ella what? That we’re bad lunch conversationalists? Who cares?” he says, and now I’ve changed my mind—something is up and it’s not flirting. She’s too pushy and he’s too glib.

I pace on the sidewalk.

“I care,” Amber says.

“Then stop. ’Cause I don’t.”

“Real nice,” Amber says, and I can hear in her tone that it’s more than just pride; she’s actually bothered.

Justin doesn’t reply, dropping once again into uncomfortable silence.

I steal a glance at the table. Amber is pushing her food around, getting progressively more pissed while Justin is just as indifferent.

“You can save the rude silences for your therapist, Justin, because I’m not having this conversation with myself. If I get one more inkling that Mia’s sensing something’s off, I swear I’ll tell Ella myself,” Amber says, and the challenge is clear.

My stomach does a somersault, and I press the phone harder to my ear like it might help me hear better.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Justin snaps.

“Well, look who finally joined the conversation.”

“There is no conversation,” Justin says, now full-on pissed. “We were wasted. End of story.”

Jack-effing-pot!I steal another glance at them, just in time to see the pinched expression on Amber’s face.

“I guarantee Ella would disagree,” Amber fires back.

“Damn it, Amber. Why do you have to be such a bitch?” His voice trails off, and he throws some cash onto the table. “You know what? I’m out of here.”

“Charming,” Amber says, but as much as she’s trying to brush off his spite, I can hear the undertone of hurt in her voice. “And I don’t need your money.”

He half laughs. “Let’s just call it a thank-you for services rendered.”

Oh no.I look at Amber, whose face has gone stone cold, like she might murder him and stuff his body in her tennis bag.

“Run away and play pretend with your perfect suburban good girl,” she says, her tone dangerous. “Maybe she’ll never find out you’re a cheating asshole, ormaybe she will. Who can say?”

“You wanna know why Derek broke up with you?” Justin says, matching her cool aggression. “Because you’re someone to screw, not someone to date. No one likes you. Not even Ella. So go ahead and tell her whatever you want. It won’t stick.”

Then he walks away, leaving Amber staring daggers into his back.

“Whoa,” I say under my breath and press end on my pretend call, typing a text to August.

As I press send on my message, Justin breezes past me. “Sorry, gotta bail,” he says, the nastiness gone from his tone and replaced with a calculated smile that makes my skin crawl. He walks backward toward his SUV. “Lunch is on me, though.”

He opens his driver’s side door and hops in. When I turn back to the table, Amber’s asking our server for the check. Her shoulders are tense and her eyes are misty.

“Everything okay?” I ask as I approach her.

“Perfect,” she says, trying to cover the upset in her voice with a sip of her iced tea. “Always.”

50

august

After a short conversation with Daisy, we leave things on a friendly note. Turns out that she’s in a committed relationship—a good one. She’s going to open mic nights for her singing, which is shocking considering how reserved she was when I met her. And she’s actually getting along with her parents. Even though this is the worst possible timing, part of me is happy I ran into her, a reminder why we started Summer Love. Sometimes it’s hard to see your own life clearly—I should know; I hide better than anyone. And having a friend, even temporary ones like me and Tiny, can give you the push that makes all the difference.