Love Song(54)

After several seconds of indecision, I type.

You around tonight? Want to grab a drink?



Then I tap Send before I can overthink it.





“You going out?”

Blake appears on the stairs as I’m rummaging on the hall credenza for the Jeep keys. I was the last one to drive it, and I swear I dropped them in this glass bowl. But all I see are decorative acorns.

I keep my head down. “Yeah.”

“Where you off to?” she asks curiously, bounding down the steps.

“Nowhere really.”

“Right, because that’s not suspicious.” Her laughter tickles my back. “Let me guess—you’re going to a secret underground poker ring? Moonlighting as a stripper?

I move my key search to the credenza drawer. “Nah, just meeting someone in town.”

“Who?”

My fingers collide with the key fob. Thank God.

“Who?” Blake pushes when I don’t respond.

“Just a girl,” I say vaguely.

Silence.

I don’t want to see the look on her face, but I’m a masochist so I turn around. Her expression is too bright, her smile forced.

“Anybody I know?” she chirps.

“Doubt it.”

“Is it the girl who sent you the nudes on the boat?”

Her hurt tone triggers a prick of guilt. Which only makes me want to distance from it.

“Yes. Her.”

I could’ve stopped there. Could’ve walked out without another word. Instead, I force myself to twist the knife.

“She’s a fun time,” I add. “We hooked up last summer.”

I watch it land. The wounded flicker in Blake’s eyes. The way her shoulders pull back like she’s been slapped but doesn’t want to show it.

Good. Let her hate me. It’s better than the alternative. If this friendship between us is going to stick, then I need to quash the attraction. On both sides.

“Uh-huh. Cool.” Blake pauses. “Your vow of celibacy is null and void then?”

I exhale through my nose but say nothing. I’m a dick.

“If the sex is good, are you going to write a song about it?”

I stifle a sigh. “Blake—”

“Whatever, it’s fine. Have fun tonight.”

Her cavalier shrug is betrayed by the stiffness in her shoulders. She strides into the kitchen. I don’t follow her.

Instead, I slide out the front door to go pick up Mira.





Chapter 17


BLAKE





WYATT’S ON A DATE TONIGHT. That’s fun. I hope he has the best time.

Like the best time.

I don’t care that he’s on a date. Why would I? It’s not like I wanted to hang out with him or anything. I’m perfectly content to stay in and work on the puzzle. I love this puzzle. I’m not purposely jamming this piece into a spot I know is wrong, just to feel the resistance and bask in the power trip of doing something I know will make Wyatt angry.

Of course not.

JULIETTE

You should key his car.



I peek at the message that popped up, grinning.

Can’t. He took it on his date.



I try to focus on the puzzle, but the ticking clock above the kitchen doorway is too distracting. Has it always been this loud? It’s making me hyperfocused on the time. 8:38. He left less than an hour ago, but it feels like it’s been two days. And who is this girl he’s out with? He said they hooked up last summer, and my nosy brain is now cycling through every female I remember seeing here last year.

Was it that blond from the mini golf place? I think her name was Cassandra?

No. She hooked up with Gray, I recall.

Maybe those two punk-rock chicks from the music festival at Commons Beach?

Wait. That was also Gray. His dad found them on the boathouse roof after the concert, and we all had to listen to Uncle Hunter’s lecture the next morning about how threesomes—“however awesome,” Uncle Dean had interjected—are not appropriate during our Tahoe family summer.

Wyatt better not be having a threesome tonight.

My phone lights up again. I expect to see Juliette’s name, but it’s Isaac. It’s taken him three days to respond to my last message.

THE CHEATER

Be honest, Blake. Is this even about a toaster? Because I’m starting to think you want me back.



I gape at the screen. Wow.

I don’t want you back.



THE CHEATER

It’s okay to admit it.



You cheated on me. For a whole year.



THE CHEATER

And I’m willing to work things out if that’s where your head is at.



He’s willing to work things out? What in the actual fuck.

Fuming, I type back one word at a time.

You



Cheated



On



Me



THE CHEATER

I made a mistake.



Really? Was it a one-night stand? Because a repeated mistake is a choice, Isaac.



I don’t want you back.



I just want my fucking toaster.