Colette shifted on the rock, leaning to one side and then the other to pull her shorts down. “Okay, your turn!”

“Okay,” I said, taking a breath, ready to share the story I’d been writing in my mind for weeks. In a low, quiet voice, I said, “Once there was young man named William who fell madly in love with the butcher’s daughter, Lilah.”

“Did you say the butcher’s daughter?” Colette said, scooting closer. “That’s never good.” She gasped. “Look! A falling star!”

“Where?” I asked, searching the sky until I saw the diagonal two-inch streak, brighter on the low end and fading at the top, then disappearing altogether.

“Make a wish.”

We both closed our eyes and made wishes but didn’t tell each other what they were because then they wouldn’t come true.

Colette said, “Keep going.”

“Okay, so William and Lilah went out on many romantic dates—”

“What did they do?” Colette interrupted.

I tilted my head to the side and looked at her with an annoyed expression.

“What? I like romantic details.”

I laughed, then said, “They went on picnics and to the movies and walks on the beach and stuff, I don’t know. Anyway, Lilah fell madly in love with William, too. They talked about going to Paris someday because that was Lilah’s dream, to go to chef school in Paris. So, William proposed, and Lilah accepted, and they got married six months later.”

“Way to rush into it.”

“Shhh,” I said, laughing again, feeling her own laughter in my rib cage. We were so squished together we were like one being. “They took over the butcher shop from Lilah’s dad and had a great life. For William’s birthday one year, Lilah knitted him a beautiful red scarf to keep him warm all the t—”

“Ew, red is ugly,” Colette interrupted. “He needs a yellow scarf. Yellow is way happier.”

“No men wear yellow scarves.”

“I know, he’ll be unique!”

“What shade of yellow?” I asked, my art brain taking over.

“I don’t know . . . bright?” Colette asked back, laughing.

I sighed. “Fine, she knitted him a bright yellow scarf. He loved it so much he wore it everywhere. But one day, he came home without it, and he told Lilah that he didn’t remember where he’d left it. A few weeks later, a beautiful woman rang the doorbell. She was like modelworthy.”

“I think I know where this is going. Pumpkin Eater City.”

“Totally. So, she says, ‘Your husband left this at my house.’ Lilah didn’t ask any questions; she just slammed the door on the woman and went to confront William, who was working at the butcher shop. She was convinced he was cheating on her!”

“Billy’s in trouble.”

“His name’s William.”

“He goes by Billy to his friends.”

“He totally doesn’t,” I said. “And this is my story. Shush your face.”