“She changed the lyrics of the song for her 2018 tour during Pride month to ‘Go tell your mother.’” I drop a random fun fact I learned from Demi Lovato stans on Instagram.

“Huh,” says Jasmine, tapping a finger on the wheel. “That’s … definitely different.”

“It is,” I agree. “Just one word—‘go’ instead of ‘don’t’—and it made her fans so damn happy, I literally saw pictures of rainbow shrines.”

“Well, makes sense. I mean, it’s Pride month. ‘Tell your mom about it’ is certainly prouder than, like, ‘hide your secret shame girl.’”

I snort. “‘Secret shame girl’ sounds like the title of really terrible porn.”

“You sound like the title of really terrible porn,” Jasmine retorts.

Like that, the conversation is over.

And the next night, in front of a bonfire, everything changes.

NOW

One look at Jasmine’s face, wide open with heartbreak, and I know exactly which version she sang.

“I didn’t sing that to you because I wanted you to forget the summer,” she says softly, confirming. “I sang it to you because I wanted you to remember how good it was. And I know it was a stupid night to do it, but it felt like my last chance before I lost you for good. When I finally got the nerve to look at you, it was clear I’d already lost you before I even got here.” Her gaze meets mine, and it looks like it takes all the effort in the world on her part. The least I can do is hold it.

“I moved in with my dad because I could not get you out of my fucking head. I thought about going back to school and pretending our summer was just a summer, and I couldn’t do it. I thought that maybe if I came here, we’d have a chance to be something real, but I didn’t know how to tell you I was coming. And before I could even see you, you had a boyfriend, and I was stuck here. Watching you live this perfect life that was already full without me. I’ve been trying to carve something out and save what’s left of my dignity and my senior year, but I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I just need to go crawling back to my mom. My heart can’t take you breaking it anymore.”

Her gaze drops, but she doesn’t walk away. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole all night. For longer than tonight, I guess. I really didn’t handle it well that coming to Stratford wasn’t what I hoped it would be.”

“Because you hoped…” God, I feel slow. And yet my pulse is racing. “Jasmine. Why didn’t you say anything? You had a billion chances!”