“Well, yeah.” I blinked, unnerved. She’d thrown me off my game. “Yeah, I do.”

I cleared my throat and kept going. “You can’t help wanting the friends of the person you’re in—the person you’re interested in to like you. Even if it isn’t going to go anywhere.” I took a sip of my coffee, trying not to let on how self-conscious I felt about admitting all this to them. “And also because I think you’re both cool.”

“Aw,” said Cleo, taking a sip of her drink.

“And you’re dating Perrine.” I gestured to Lola. “And it’s important for me to know you, and be your friend.”

Lola’s face softened instantly when I mentioned Perrine.

“Does she know about this?” I asked.

She waved a hand between us. “No. I’ll tell her. But first I wanted to talk to you.”

Lola shifted in her seat and leaned toward me. “As long as we’re here,” she said, “there’s something I wanted to ask you. I need your help with something.”

“Okay,” I said, grateful for the attention to be off me. “Tell me what you need.”

Lola leaned forward in her seat, sliding her hands onto the table. “I want to propose to Perrine, and I want you to help me to do it.”

“Holy shit,” I said. This was definitely not what I was expecting her to say. Cleo let out a squeal and clapped with excitement.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Wow. Of course I’m game.”

“Good.” Lola’s smile was wide and wicked, and she brushed her bleached-blond hair off her face before reaching her hand across the table to shake mine. “Just so you know, I really wanted us all to go on a double date.”

I laughed wistfully at this. “That would have been fun,” I agreed.

“Who knows,” chimed in Cleo. “Maybe you’ll get the chance.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Franny

I’d never been more nervous in my life to see someone, and we weren’t even meeting face-to-face. But for days, I’d been in a panic, nerves raging. Then finally the day arrived, and I spent hours prepping myself, getting ready. I washed my hair and shaved my legs, and spent a good fifteen minutes trying to do a cat eye with eyeliner before giving up and wiping it off, hoping the smudges on my lid weren’t too noticeable. Then I changed my shirt three times, only to end up back in the first one I put on. And now there was nothing left to do but pick up my phone.

“Franny?”

That face, the voice: It was foreign and yet so familiar, all at once. It sent my heart racing, out of my chest, up into the sky, setting off fireworks.