But then he said, “Cute towel.”

Oh no. All the giddiness that had filled her up a moment ago rushed out. She’d forgotten to hide the babyish sea-green monogrammed letters that spelled out her name along one end.

There was Connor, all tall and muscly, looking about twenty years older than she felt, and here she was wrapped in the towel her mom had gotten personalized with her favorite colors, as if she were a six-year-old. She retwisted it so her name was covered, but it was too late.

“Oh. It’s from a long time ago,” she lied. “Nothing else was clean.”

Connor laughed. Because he didn’t believe her? Because the towel was so babyish? She wasn’t sure. But then he gave her a hand-sizzling high five and said, “See you tomorrow.”

He jogged away to meet up with Jordan by the parking lot, and she walked over to Mia, trying to let the sensation of Connor’s palm against hers block out any towel-related embarrassment. Mia was too far away to have heard that part, at least.

The other middle school girls had gone into the locker room, so Mia was waiting by herself.

“Good practice?” she asked. Cheerfully. Casually, as if she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary.

What?

Annabelle was supposed to dissect every detail about the way the random guy at the Creamery said the words “Enjoy your ice cream,” but Mia wasn’t going to say anything about what had just happened with Connor?

Mia knew Annabelle was into Connor, and she’d watched him take her phone number. There was no way she didn’t realize that was a big deal! But still . . . nothing?

“Practice was great!” Annabelle told her, just as cheerfully and casually.

“Oh good.” Mia lowered her voice to a whisper. “I felt so bad after the last meet. That was so terrible with the DQ.”

The words were like a giant wave that came out of nowhere and spun Annabelle under, tossing her to the ocean floor. It had been terrible, but Annabelle didn’t need to hear somebody else come right out and say that, especially when she wasn’t thinking about it at all.

And okay: Maybe Annabelle shouldn’t have left the meet without saying anything to Mia when Mia had stayed to watch her, and maybe she should have included Mia earlier today. But Annabelle knew Mia was only commenting on the DQ now to make herself feel better and Annabelle feel worse.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, ordering her voice to stay steady. “But you really don’t need to feel bad. Every-thing’s good! Have a fun practice!”

With the other middle schoolers, she wanted to add, to rub it in that Mia wasn’t the one who’d been called up to swim with the high school team. But she stopped herself before she said it.

As Mia went into the locker room, Annabelle’s phone buzzed with a text, so she pulled it out of her bag.

It’s Connor. Hey there.