“I forgot,” I say, voice falling flat. “But you can still come, if Miles doesn’t care.”

Claudia presses her lips together but says nothing. We both know that I don’t actually expect her to come. I can tell by the twitch under her eye, the way that Lydia nervously glances at her. Can they blame me, though? It’s not a secret that we haven’t been spending as much time together as we used to, but it’s not like I’m ignoring them. Hell, I’m allowed to have lunch with someone other than Claudia. It’s not just about having a boyfriend.

“We could go to my house,” Miles offers. His words are hesitant, like he knows he’s stepping into a fight. “It’s close, and we have sandwich stuff.”

“No, it’s fine. We have to go to GSA,” Lydia says, jabbing Claudia’s ribs. “Right, Claude?”

“Sure,” she says. Her eyes don’t move from my face. I’m not sure when this happened, or why it has to happen right this second. “You guys go. Have a great time.”

I roll my eyes, shrugging on my coat.

Lydia frowns. Claudia walks down the hall, not sparing me a second glance.

CHAPTER 23

“Do I get any hints?”

“None,” Miles says on the other end of the line. “Just trust me. And meet me at Dolores Park in an hour. But don’t bring any chairs!”

“I wasn’t planning on bringing chairs.”

“Good,” he says. “I’ll see you then.”

I’m a little bit suspicious, mostly because he spent all of yesterday sending me weird texts (What’s your favorite snack? On a scale from one to ten, how do you feel about Hugh Jackman?) and was grinning at me during Saturday rehearsal this morning. I mean, he usually smiles at me, but this was way different.

“Make sure you text me when you get there,” Pops orders. “It’s always busy on Saturdays and I don’t like all of this secrecy.”

“Well,” I say, grabbing my bag. “It’s just the park.”

“Right.” He narrows his eyes. “Is that a new slang term?”

“Ugh,” I say. “Bye, Pops.”

It’s not unusual for Dolores Park to be busy, since tons of people hang out here. What’s unusual is all the people with picnic baskets and blankets. Did everyone collectively decide to have a gigantic picnic or something? I wouldn’t put it past San Francisco.

Miles is waiting near the entrance when I walk up. He has a picnic basket, too. I bite my lip to hide my smile.

“Are we having a collective picnic with everyone in the park?”

“What?” His face scrunches up. “No. I mean, I guess you could think of it that way, but that’s really not what it is. Just come on.”