I smash my face into the bed and pretend to scream. It doesn’t matter if I want Aiden, because I can’t have him now. I never could. This is pointless to debate because it’s already over, anyway. He’s gone, I’m leaving, and according to the shiny president in my palm, tomorrow I’ll talk to Zander.

Chapter

Seventeen

OLIVIA

I regret the results of the coin flip almost immediately, but now I’m here, and Zander is walking toward me, almost jogging across the dirt parking lot. He’s tan. Maybe more tan than I’ve ever seen him, his skin a deep brown thanks to the last six weeks on the lake. His hair is a little fluffy, the way he lets it get in the summer, when it’s growing out from the late winter buzzcut he kicks off every baseball season with. I hate his hair buzzed, but he hates the way long hair feels under his helmet. I don’t feel the anger I thought I would. The hurt is back. The little jab of pain under my ribs that reminds me that one of my best friends is gone.

Zander nods behind me and squints, as if something’s hurting his eyes. “Is that Emerson’s?”

“Hi to you too.” Until this morning, I’d completely forgotten that my only option to get here on time was driving Aiden’s car. I’ll take it back tonight, after his shift at River Depot; it seems sort of questionable to have it when I’m pretty sure he’s done with me.

Zander raises his brows at me, like he’s waiting.

“Yeah. I’m borrowing it.”

“It’s that serious? That you’re driving his car around?”

I don’t answer. I don’t even know the answer. I told myself it wasn’t serious, that I wouldn’t let it be, because I was leaving, but it felt serious when he left yesterday. It felt like I hurt him—badly. But then he left, and he hurt me, too.

“To get back at me?” Zander asks.

I laugh. This isn’t how I thought our first meeting was going to go. I should be the one grilling him. “I didn’t even tell you about it, so how would it be getting back at you?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I need to talk to you. Leave your bag in the car?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m taking you fishing,” he says.

For the first time, I notice that Zander has his dad’s truck. The little metal fishing boat they haven’t used in a million years is on the trailer behind it.

“Zander, if this is about that stupid text I sent you—”

“Just come, Liv. I want to talk to you. The worms and fish and shit will just make it less awful. For both of us.”