Page 58 of The Dysasters

“You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”

Foster sank into the chair opposite Sabine. If she was being honest, Foster spent quite a bit of time thinking about Tate and his stupid, gorgeous face and how nice he was even when she was being horrible. She’d even sighedaloudon more than one occasion when she’d innocently, accidentally, in no way on purpose stared at him while he was out shirtless in the pasture. “Apparently I can’t lie to myself, either.”

“I knew it,” Sabine said with a clap. “I just knew it!”

“Wait. You set me up? You didn’t actually know how I felt about Tate. You were fishing.”

Sabine held up her hands. “Before you spin off into one of your defensive, ‘I don’t need anybody I can do this by myself’ tantrum things, I have a plan.”

“I don’t have tantrums.”

“I have heard many a story.” Arching her brow, Sabine blinked slowly. “Self-reflection isn’t really your thing, is it?”

“Shut up!” Foster exclaimed in a burst of laughter.

“So, you want to hear my idea?”

Foster nodded listlessly before eyeing the opened bag of chocolates and wishing she’d never put them down.

“There’s this place, Bella Farms, just down the main street from here, and every Friday night they have dancing and food and general jubilance.” Her pointed fingernails clicked against the table in an unidentifiable rhythm. “And today happens to be Friday, so we should go.”

Click, click.

“All of us.”

Click, click. Click, click, click.

“On a double date.”

Click. Click, click.

“Ask Tate to go with you.”

“Ask Tate to go out with me? On a date?”

“A double date. That way you can more easily explore this uncharted territory.”

Easy?Nothing about going on a date sounded easy. Foster had only been on one. With Ronald Watson at space camp when she was fifteen, and, yes, it was absolutely as horrible as it sounded. It was at that same camp with that same boy that she’d lost her virginity. And yes, that was also as horrible as it sounded.

Foster cringed.

“A date?” She felt like her stomach was dangerously close to falling out of her butt. “We… we can’t go out tonight.”

“Oh, because you have to wake up so early to get to class. Or is it work, maybe? The two of you are so busy with all of your extracurriculars it’s hard to keep your schedules straight.”

Defeated, Foster leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know, this is why I usually don’t have any friends.”

Sabine resumed twirling her braids. “You’re welcome.”

Foster was ready. She’d even done her hair. Okay, that was a lie. She’d sprayed a considerable amount (half a bottle) of dry shampoo into her hair before brushing it. But she was wearing a clean, she paused to sniff the armpits of her top, yes, acleanflannel over the sunflower yellow cotton dress she’d found shoved into the back of her closet.

“Wear something that shows your legs and isn’t frayed or torn or wrinkled.” Sabine had paused on the porch with further instructions before leaving to collect Finn and force him to shower before their impromptu double date.

Mentally, Foster scanned her closet. “So, pretty much tear down the drapes and make a brand-new wardrobe in the next hour.”

Sabine had poked her head back into the foyer, craning her neck to eye the kitchen’s checkered window treatments, a deep dimple appearing beneath her right cheek as she smiled. “You better get to sewing.”

Foster almost had to until she’d found the dress that Cora had obviously bought for her since it was girly and pretty and not flannel.