“Wow.” She looks from the picture to me and back again. “You’ve got a whole thing going on here… and I am here for it. Why did you cut it?” She holds the phone up. “Do you mind?”

I nod my permission, and she flips through the pictures while I try to figure out how to answer her. I did it so my best friend would date me isn’t exactly the truth, but it isn’t a total lie either. Gabby had all but told our friends she didn’t like my hair, and Gabby represented everything I thought I wanted—sweet, beautiful, and fun.

“It was indirectly Gabby’s idea,” I say. “She made a comment about liking short hair. I miss the long, but I don’t have to steal hair ties from chicks anymore, so there’s that.”

Chloe’s eyes snap to me. “Did you have a thing with Gabby?”

“No.” I shake my head. The sting of rejection is still there. “I did like her for a while, or maybe I just liked the idea of her.” I shrug. “She didn’t feel the same way.”

I wince at my honesty and how it sounds when I say it out loud.

“Her loss.” She puts the phone on the bed and crawls into my lap. I’ve never been so happy to have been rejected. I don’t have feelings for Gabby anymore, not like that, but if Chloe wants to take pity on me and try and prove how happy she is that things didn’t work out with my best friend… well, I’m not about to stop her.

The next morning, I stand back while Chloe and Camila hug and tear up saying their goodbyes. I look at my phone while they talk, trying to let them have their time. I glance up as Camila looks over Chloe’s shoulder. She smiles and waves me over.

“I’m so glad you came. Thanks for looking out for my girl. You’ve got my number now if I need to come down and cut a bitch.”

“Easy, killer.” Chloe laughs and hugs her again. “But thank you. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Chlo.”

The ride back starts out cheerful. Loud, very bad singing, on my part, to songs on the radio. Chloe knows exactly zero song lyrics despite claiming to know them all. I don’t care, though. Off-key, wrong words, her voice makes my chest feel like it’s cracked wide open.

About seventy miles out, the singing stops and Chloe goes to staring out the window. Pressing and talking about feelings isn’t really my bag, but I know I have to say something.

“Missing California already?”

“Yeah and thinking about how crazy our schedules are going to be now with your games starting soon.”