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“Fine. Lacrosse. And you played the flute. First chair.”
I can’t help chuckling. “You really have been taking notes. But remember how tiny the orchestra was? Miniscule. There were only two flute players, so first chair wasn’t all that impressive.”
“Nope. Sorry.” Jill shakes her head. “You’re my best friend. And you’re amazing. Anyone who can’t see how fabulous you are has to answer to me. Including you.”
She lifts her hands and turns them into fists, shadowboxing me across the porch.
“You’re a toothpick, Jill. You can’t take me.”
“Oh, really. Did you see the muscles Spencer Crane’s been hiding? You have no idea what I’ve got going on under my shirt.”
“You’re wearing a tank top.” I snort. “I can see your noodle arms.”
Jill’s laugh is so infectious, I can’t help joining in. This always happens with Jill and me. We keep on laughing in between sips of tea, but in the back of my mind, I’m thinking this:
Jill Raleigh noticed Spencer Crane’s muscles too.
As if I just sent him a message via ESP, my phone buzzes with a text from Spencer. Except that’s not his name in my contacts.
Clark Kent: We should meet up to talk more about this camp situation.
“Sorry, but I’ve got to reply to this,” I manage to say, although my throat’s a little clogged. Probably from all the sugar.
“Spencer?”
“How did you know?”
“Your face. It got all… squinky.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Go look in a mirror. You’re all pink and your mouth is crooked. Squinky.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, hopping up and snatching her glass. “I’ll be right back. Gonna top off our teas.”
The truth is I need to get off this porch. It’s so hot out here, my cheeks are flushed, and I can’t let Jill think that’s about Spencer. Because it’s not. In the safety of my empty kitchen, well out of view from my way-off-base best friend, I message Spencer back.
Me: I can stop by the library this week.
Clark Kent:I’ll be working.
Me:That’s never stopped you before.
Clark Kent: No, it never stopped YOU before. I’m a professional.
Me:Fine. I’ll show up during your break. What time do you eat?
Clark Kent: 6. Usually.
Me:Ah. Right. So 6 ALWAYS. Got it.
A smile blooms across my face. Teasing Spencer is too much fun.
Clark Kent: Which night?
Me:Does it matter?
Clark Kent:SOME of us operate on a schedule.
