Page 57 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

I blew out a breath. “Do you ever miss the way things were? Before Seven Rules. I mean, I know the podcast has made our lives a million times better, and don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for that, but sometimes I miss when we were simpler. When we were just us.”

“Margo and Jocelyn.” She smiled faintly. “Not Go and Jo.”

My heart ached with the realization that my best friend had been feeling the same way I was feeling. That maybe I wasn’t alone. For years, I’d thought that Jo modified my name to match with hers. But now, looking at her, it was plain as day that we’d both been drowning in shallow water, in this superficial image we’d built for ourselves. We were both playing a character, hiding the real us behind a microphone, behind a nickname, behind a screen. How hadn’t I realized it sooner?

“I’m thinking I need to make a conscious effort to be myself more often,” I admitted, and I had a feeling I knew exactly where I wanted to start. “Hold me accountable?”

“Oh, believe me,” Jo said, and now her face split into a real smile. Her signature red lipstick was mostly gone, faded throughout the day to nothing more than a faint stain, but somehow, she looked more herself than ever. “I will.”

CHAPTER21

The Vons in Avalon didn’t carry any Arctic Fox in the shade Phantom Green. There were four boxes of hair dye in total, three of which were L’Oréal Paris in varying shades of blond. I grabbed the last box of Clairol—and one of those single-use deep conditioning masks, for good measure—and then I went up to the checkout.

The cashier eyed the box dye as he rang me up. “Light Cool Brown,” he read off, his eyes flicking to me. “Tired of—” He squinted at my split ends. “What color is that, anyway?”

“It used to be green, among other colors,” I said. “And no. Not tired of it. I just decided that I like the idea of changing things up for a bit.” Maybe I’d go back to dyeing my hair random colors in a month. But if I did, it would be because I wanted to. Not because it was how my followers recognized me or because my green hair was iconic according to some random BuzzFeed article.

I stepped out of Vons to a bright and cloudless morning, gulls crooning overhead. Some of the foot traffic had died down with the end of the weekend, though there were still plenty of ferries bussing people back and forth from the mainland at all hours of the day. Monday—we were now eight days into the vacation, with less than a week until the wedding. As bizarre as it sounded, I was actually excited about that. There was still plenty of uncertainty about the future, but last night had brought on something of an epiphany for me. I was happy for my best friend. Ecstatic, really, that she hadn’t let the podcast or our listeners’ opinions hold her back from doing what she wanted to do with her own life.

I could learn a thing or two from that. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent her a quick text, the plastic bag full of hair dye and conditioner slung in the nook of my arm.

Margo: Hey. Did you need me for anything today? Because if not, I was thinking of maybe going out on that date thing

Jo texted back almost immediately. And then texted again. And again.

Jo: AAAAAAAAHH

Jo: I can’t believe it

Jo: This is amazing

Jo: No I don’t need help with anything today

Jo: TELL ME EVERYTHING

Jo: Text updates

I laughed despite myself, a giddy feeling welling up inside me. My phone was going haywire—it couldn’t keep up. I’d needed a new phone long before dropping it outside that club in Studio City, but I was putting it off because I’d probably just turn around and break the new one anyway. Part of maintaining all my social media was keeping my phone with me at all times, so it had always been easier to let it be a little broken in. That way, the next time I dropped it outside a club, or spilled wine on it, or left it lying in the sun while I was tanning by the pool in the apartment complex, it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

But now, I was starting to think that I was overdue for a new one. A clean slate. Maybe I’d find a new way to compartmentalize my work—I could get an iPad for managing my social media and leave all that junk off my personal phone. That way, it would be easier to step out of the influencer headspace and learn to just live my life. Form better habits. Maybe cut back on screentime.

I shot Jo another quick text before locking my phone.

Margo: I’ll tell you all about it later. In person.

A box of hair dye, a shower, and a little over an hour later, I knocked on the door to room 403. Declan answered looking freshly showered himself, his hair still damp and a clean but threadbare gray T-shirt pulled taut over his broad chest.

“Hey.” He leaned a muscled arm against the doorframe as he took in my appearance, gaze flicking over me. I’d pulled my freshly dyed hair into a high ponytail and thrown on a casual combination of jean shorts, Rainbow-brand flip-flops, and the earthworm T-shirt that Jo bought me, all in preparation for the day ahead. He appeared to be at a loss for words. “Your hair,” he said finally. “It looks—”

Before he was able to finish telling me whatever it looked like, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a rough kiss. For the briefest of seconds, it was clear that he was caught off guard, because he tensed. But then his arm left the doorframe and found my waist, pulling me in close as he deepened the kiss.

I was breathless by the time I pulled away. “Go on a date with me?” It was breaking Rule Number Four. He had said he wanted to take me on a date, but here I was, taking matters into my own hands and planning one for him. But I didn’t particularly care.

“What, now?” he laughed. He ran a hand through his damp hair, mussing it. “I kind of expected you to hold out a little longer.”

“This vacation’s too short to waste time playing stupid mind games.” He was only slightly taller than me, but I stood on my tiptoes anyway to plant another quick peck on his cheek. “And besides. I’ve got it all planned out.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you’re taking me on a date?” He shook his head, grinning like a kid on Christmas. It was kind of adorable. “I’m not sure that’s what we agreed to.”