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I fiddle with the mascara tube, picking at the label.
I’ve been trying not to think about Meg leaving. She’s the closest thing to a real family that I have, and once she’s gone…
It’s gonna suck. That’s all.
“So would I, but Meg… I don’t think we’ll see each other much when you’re gone.”
It’s just logic. My own parents lost interest in me long before I left for college—why on earth would Meg’s dad stick around? Duke doesn’t owe me anything.
And sure, we spend a lot of time together, but Meg’s always there. She’s the glue; the reason we’re all in the same place at the same time. Put Meg in Scotland, and Duke and I have no excuse to visit each other any more.
Exhaling shakily, I start brushing mascara over my lashes. Life without Duke? Sounds miserable.
“Bullshit.” Meg springs up, slick muscles flexing, and Iknowshe’s checking herself out in the mirror. So vain. I raise an eyebrow, and she pokes out her tongue.
I don’t even register that she’s wandered to my nightstand until I hear the whisper of pages turning. My heart thumps, and I’m rigid. Hands clammy. Tongue thick.
“Please don’t read that,” I grind out.
Meg grunts, flipping my journal closed. God, I can’t believe I left that lying there, open for anyone to read. Did she see what I wrote about her dad?
Crap. Almost every single page in that journal has something about Duke. My fantasies about him; my daydreams. All the shameful things I can’t say out loud.
I open my mouth and close it again. I’m such an idiot. What have I done?
“Look lively,” Meg says, like nothing happened at all. She winks at me in the mirror as she crosses to the guest room door. Her undone laces whip against her sneaker as she walks. “Don’t want to miss your riverboat.”
Maybe she didn’t read it. Or maybe the parts she read weren’t that bad. I swallow, and my mouth is so dry.
“Dad!” Meg yells from the corridor, her voice echoing through the house. “Hot date time! I hope you wore that good shirt!”
She wouldn’t joke about that if she’d read my journal. Would she?
I stand, smoothing down my sundress.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
My best friend doesn’t know that I’m head over heels in love with her dad. There’s no need to panic.
Six
Duke
I’m panicking. This was a bad idea. A whole evening alone with Clementine, out on a boat beneath the stars? Eating together, sipping wine? Just the two of us away from reality for a few hours?
Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.
Even the band playing on the top deck is really good. Fuck. We need someone to knock over a table or something. A gross smell to float up from the river. Anything to make this feel less perfect, less like a date.
What was I thinking, bringing her here?
It’s dangerous. No one’s even looking at us weirdly—like I’m too old for her. Too giant. Like they’re trying to figure out how I don’t crush Clementine in my grip like King Kong.
We get looks like that sometimes, when Clem and I walk side by side in public. Can never tell whether I should be more flattered or offended by them.
Guess I’d do better not to notice them at all.
“I suck at this.” Clem’s laughing at herself, chasing a cherry tomato around her plate with a fork. Christ, she looks so beautiful in that dress, her red hair loose around her shoulders. Every time it flutters in the breeze, I get a whiff of coconut shampoo. She’s gonna give me a heart attack.
