Page 24 of The Breakup Artists

Ella

Nope. I’m a Leo.

Me

Strong logic.

Ella

Laugh it up, but it’s true. You’re a Gemini and when something big or meaningful happens, the two sides of you argue about how to respond. Hence the freeze.

I pause, not because I think my reaction in the grocery store has anything to do with astrology but because it’s actually not a bad explanation for what happened with Kyle. Although why I’m talking to her about my personal life instead of my made-up Holden life is a mystery. I’m just going to chalk it up to it being a strange day.

She starts typing, stops, and starts again.

Ella

Anyway I’m not texting for me. Amber wants me to invite you to her party tomorrow.

This really isn’t my day.

I stare at my phone, my fingers hovering above the keys. If I respond affirmatively, she’ll think I like Amber. And if I reject the idea, Amber might try to oust me from any future invite I receive.

Second rule of engagement: Don’t flirt with the subject’s friends.

Me

Let me get back to you.

14

valentine

Pastries don’t fix the world, but on the morning after a bad day, warm chocolate goes a long way toward smoothing the rough edges. I sit on the dock in my and August’s “office,” absent-mindedly chewing and considering how I’m going to patch this up with him, when I hear his steps on the wood behind me.

He sits down on the dock next to me with his Snoopy mug of black coffee, without saying a word. A couple seconds pass with us staring at the water. It’s not that August and I have some sparkly relationship that’s devoid of fighting—we’ve gone through years when we’ve bickered constantly—it’s just that this feels different. Des. Kyle. All the untouchable topics and things we haven’t said.

“About yesterday...” I start, getting myself geared up to hash this out. “I know—”

“I was an ass,” he says, and I look at him. “I shouldn’t have walked off on you like that.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“Agreed.”

“Right,” I say, and my words putter to a stop, my argument whizzing out of me. “You know, this is just like you. Deflate all my carefully cultivated insults with three sentences. How am I supposed to vilify you now?”

He leans his shoulder into mine, and in an irresistibly sincere voice he says, “Think you can forgive me, Tiny?”

I exhale. “Do I have a choice?”

“Depends. How good were those insults you were working on?”

“Like, choke-on-your-coffee good.”

“Well, then maybe you should let them fly.”

I squint at the water, considering. “Nah. I’ll save them for the next round.”