“Do you have plans for today?” I ask.

“Breakfast at a café?”

Finally. Something perfectly my aesthetic.

It’s this little French place, and they’re obviously just opening for the day because some guy in an apron is wiping down the windows and a girl with the same apron seems to be setting up the display case. Drew knows I hate early mornings, but at least there’s no line, and it’s easy for us to step up, order our coffee and pastries, and wait only a few minutes before they’re handed to us across the counter.

We sit in a little booth with a rustic wooden table and plush white seats. I raise my blueberry scone to my mouth before I notice Drew staring at me. No, wait, he’s staring at my scone.

“Something wrong?” I say.

He jolts like he’d forgotten I was there. “Sorry,” he says. “Just lost in thought, I guess.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I offer.

He looks down at his hands for a moment and says, “About my parents’ divorce . . .” He pauses for a moment before looking up at me and saying, “Actually, I don’t want to talk about that. Just forget it. Did you see the Diary posts I made while you were gone? People loved them. I could replace you as the Diary mod, and they wouldn’t even notice.”

I hadn’t gotten a chance to check the posts, but now I’m a little nervous as I pull out my phone and scroll through his blog. He’s right about people loving the posts. There’s tons of excitement and a shit ton of notes on them, way more than his earlier stuff, but they’re also really intense, all talking about how desperately I love him and missed him and can’t live without him.

“Why are all of these posts about me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from sounding defensive. “I mean, you could’ve written about your own feelings too. Not just mine.”

He shrugs. “Well, sure, I guess, but you’re way more interesting to people, and I get way more engagement when the posts center you. Besides, it was more fun to think about how much you missed me than get sappy about myself.”

“I get that,” I say, “but it kind of feels like you put words in my mouth, you know?”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he says. “Besides, my life’s really shitty right now, and the fans make me feel better. You’re not mad about that, right?”

“No, I guess not,” I say.

He flashes me a smile and says, “Anyway, how was camp?”