“North Carolina,” Scarlett said, feeling the need for the facts to be accurate. “And I didn’t know about her.”

“No. Of course you didn’t. He made sure you didn’t. Because he was cheating on her. With you. And do not…” Dakota held up a finger on this. “…do not give me this stuff about how he really felt bad about it and how he was going to break up with her but he just wanted to wait until he got home. Do not.”

“Yeah,” Josh said, sounding very bored that this was happening again. “Don’t.”

“I’m not even thinking about him,” Scarlett lied. “You don’t have to…”

“Do you want to know how I know you’re thinking about him?” Dakota cut in.

“Nope,” Scarlett replied honestly.

“Because I checked that link to his commercial that you sent me. Remember how you said you were the only person who ever really watched it and how you were embarrassed because the view count was going up really fast? Well, it was at 356 two days ago, and now it’s at 512.”

Scarlett felt her stomach lurch. She had made one of the most basic of life errors, and she saw it immediately: Never give anyone evidence of your crazy.

“I watched it…a few times,” Scarlett said, looking down. “You don’t know it was me.”

“It’s a pizza commercial. You were the one who said you were afraid he’d notice because you were the only person in the world who would watch it besides him.”

“Some people really like pizza,” Scarlett countered. “And I’m wrong a lot. Can we be done now? There’s a bee on your drink.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Chloe was chiming in. Scarlett loved Chloe dearly, but she was a notoriously flirty and flaky dater. She had gone through a total of four “relationships” over the summer. As far as she was concerned, the average life cycle of a couple was a week. If they were very serious. Taking relationship advice from her was like taking flying lessons from a kamikaze pilot—someone who thought the only way to land was nose-first into the ground.

“Why don’t you call him?” she asked. “Why don’t you go and see him? Sometimes you just need to make out one last time to get it out of your system. I’ve done that.”

“Do. Not. Do. That.”

That was Dakota, of course.

“I’m always here,” Josh added.

Scarlett’s problem—the ruling issue of her life right now, her secret inner turmoil—had become a conversational Frisbee. Something to toss around on a bright summer’s day when there was nothing better going on.

“I’m making a new start,” Scarlett said again.

And then, of course, the phone began to ring. She had set it on the blanket beside her. Dakota got to it first and snatched it away.