She hums, twisting around the boys in front of her to eye the multicolored tubs. “You should try the green tea.”

I don’t know how vanilla led her to green tea, but I nod, and she grins like this is some spectacular moment for us. If this were a movie, this would be the moment we realize we are destined to be friends forever. We get to the counter, and she orders me one scoop of honey vanilla and one scoop of green tea. She orders lavender and peanut butter for herself—just the thought of the combination makes me gag, and I try not to show it. She pays for our cones before I can even reach for my pocket.

“You don’t need to—”

“I want to. It’s what friends do.”

“You’re not friends,” Roman grumbles behind me.

I glare at him like I wasn’t thinking the exact same thing. We can’t be friends.

She ignores Roman and leads me to a chrome table surrounded by metal chairs with wooden seats and backs. The chairs shriek in protest as she rearranges them.

“I guess we have to include him,” she says, and sighs.

“I guess.” I glance at Roman, who sits next to Willow with a single cup of honey vanilla. He seems to be pretending not to hear us.

Willow licks a drip of cream running down her cone and eyes him. “He doesn’t know how to do ice cream.” She grins at me.

“It’s sad, really,” I answer with a stiff smile, but I can feel myself melting a little bit, like the ice cream in my hand. In this bright place, Willow’s energy bounces all around, filling me with a buoyancy I don’t often feel in social situations. I take a lick of my vanilla ice cream. It’s sweet and thick, with the slightest tang of honey. “That’s amazing.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Willow says, and just like that we’ve known each other forever again. I don’t actually know her at all, but something about her demeanor makes me feel like I do, and I never get that feeling—that feeling like we’re friends.

I try to shake the feeling. It’s not why I’m here.

Roman glances between us and sighs. “This was a bad idea. I told you. No friends.”

Willow pouts. “I need friends.”

“Why?” I ask. I’m genuinely curious. Friendship is not something I’ve ever felt like I need, even if I sometimes want it. Even if I want it now.

“Look at who I’m stuck with all day. He’s the only member in his troupe.” Her smile drops just a hair—it’d be unnoticeable if I weren’t so used to reading people. “I miss my big family.”

“You’re competitors, not friends. You can’t be both,” Roman says darkly. “Only one of you will stay.”