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“That you spend too much time paying attention to who I hook up with?”
“Joke around all you want. Things with this girl are good—now. You have a stupid-ass smile on your face every time you’re on your phone, which I now know has to do with her. You also seem just as excited for her to visit as the fuckingchampionshipgame next weekend, which I never thought I’d say aboutanything. But what happens when things aren’t good? When she meets a guy who doesn’t live thousands of miles away? Far as I know, guys in California aren’t blind, just tanned.”
I unclench my jaw to say, “Oliver, seriously, I’m not stupid enough to hang my happiness on one person. She’s afriend. That’s it, and there’s a reason for that.”
He has the audacity to laugh at my assurance. “You think you need to kiss a girl to fall in love with her?”
“I haven’t kissed her.”
“Exactly.”
Auden
Waves crash against the shore. A seagull caws in the distance. Warmth from the sand radiates upward, tempering the breeze.
It’s peaceful. Until… “He still hasn’t texted me back.”
I lift my head and look over at Lana. “He’s not worth it.”
“I really like him, Laney.”
“Don’t call me that.” I sit up with a huff. “We’re not kids anymore.”
“Doesn’t Elliot call you Denny? That’s way worse.”
“I made him stop.” I haven’t, but that’s only because the stupid chain restaurant nickname has grown on me. I’ve never liked being called by my middle name.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Lana rolls her eyes.
“I did,” I lie.
“You going to tell him you like him on this trip?”
“I don’t like him. Not like that.”
Lana lets out a disbelieving scoff. She badgered me into telling her Elliot’s last name a few months ago, and if her response to stalking him on Instagram is any indication, he doesn’t post unflattering photos of himself—if such a thing even exists. “I don’t believe you.”
I don’t believe me either.
Iabsolutelylike Elliot like that. I’m also thoroughly committed to pretending I don’t. In the eleven months, three weeks, and five days since I left Canmore, he’s become my closest friend. I’ve told him things I’ve never told Lana, who’s been my best friend since kindergarten when we bonded over our mutual love of dolphins. We talk every day, often multiple times. I asked my parents to recreate the trip to a place I once viewed as a scenic purgatory just to see him. But those are truths I’ll only admit to myself.
“He has a girlfriend,” I remind her. It’s a lie I concocted after two months of her badgering me to tell Elliot how I feel, of her insisting no guy would text me that often unless he liked me as more than a friend.
“Whatever. He clearly likes you a hell of a lot more than his girlfriend.” As if on cue, my phone buzzes. The photo I took of him when we went canoeing—while pretending to take one of the scenery, of course—flashes across the screen. “Alotmore.”
I roll my eyes before I answer the phone. “Hey, Eli.”
“Hey, Denny. Your flight lands at two tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay, good. I wanted to make sure I didn’t tell my mom the wrong time.” There’s a loud crash in the background, followed by some raised male voices. “Hang on.” There’s more background noise, this time muffled, and then he’s back on. “Sorry. I’m at practice. Some of the younger guys are being idiots.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure you taught them everything they know.”
He laughs. “Maybe some of it.”
“What did you mean about your mom?”
