“This place is so cute,” Kelsey says as she walks next to me, taking in everything around us.
“It’s hemorrhaging tourists,” I say.
“Which is exactly what we wanted, right?”
“What you wanted. This is not my idea of fun in San Francisco.” I dodge a couple who are sharing a soft pretzel.
“Ooo, they have a carousel. Let’s ride it.”
“You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to ride a carousel.”
She gives me a playful grin and then pulls on my arm. “It’ll be fun.”
“Kelsey, I’m serious, I’m not riding that thing.”
She gets us in line and I attempt to leave, but she loops her arm through mine and surprisingly holds me in place.
“Loosen up. This is what friends do—silly things like this. You can take a boomerang of me on a horse.”
“What the hell is a boomerang?”
“On Instagram,” she says, as if I’m an idiot.
“That clarifies nothing.”
“It’s what we did in front of the Full House houses.”
Yes, we were those people. We searched them out, the Painted Ladies to be exact, and we stood in front of them while taking weird back-and-forth pictures. From there, we stopped by the actual house from Full House, where I took a dozen pictures of Kelsey posing. She forced me to take a picture with her, which she texted to me, saying how adorable we look as friends.
Fucking . . . great.
After that, we came down to the pier, where we are, as you know, currently in line for the carousel.
“How many times have you been up here? San Francisco, that is,” she asks.
“More than I can count,” I answer.
“Have you ever been to Pier 39?”
“A few times. Took a date here once.”
“Oooo, a date,” Kelsey says in such an annoying tone. “Tell me more. I didn’t think Jack Parker dated.”
“Not my name.”
“A solid guess.” She smirks.
“It was a few years ago. We went out for fun and ended the night in my bed. Worth the inconvenience of coming down here.”
“Let me guess—since I won’t be ending up in your bed—this isn’t worth the inconvenience?”
“There’s always time for that to turn around,” I answer honestly.
“Not happening.” She pats my forearm. “But nice try. So, tell me, have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Care to elaborate?” she asks as we take a few steps forward in line.
“Not really.”
“Oh, is it one of those stories where she was the one and only girl to break your heart?”
We keep slowly moving forward as the carousel loads up. “No, actually. I was the one who broke her heart.”
“You were?” she asks. “Was she in love with you?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“And you weren’t?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t. And I didn’t think it was fair to keep dating her if I knew the feelings weren’t going to grow in that direction, so I broke up with her. She threw a milkshake in my face and then stormed away.”
“Oh my God, she threw a milkshake in your face? What flavor was it?”
I chuckle. “Why does that matter?”
“Can’t be sure, but you know, details make a story.”
“I believe it was vanilla, another reason why I knew we weren’t supposed to be together. Vanilla milkshakes are boring.”
“Hey, no, they’re not. They’re the original. You’re not going to get another flavor without them. Don’t knock the vanilla milkshake.”
“Is that what you order?”
“Of course not.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Strawberry is obviously what I get.” I chuckle, and we make it to the front of the line, just to be stopped because the carousel is full. Kelsey turns toward me and leans against the gate. “What’s your milkshake order?”
“Chocolate.”
“Could’ve guessed that. You’re so predictable.”
I scoff at that. “And strawberry milkshake wasn’t predictable? All you have to do is say hi, and everyone knows you’re a strawberry milkshake girl.”
“Nothing wrong with that. So, this girl threw a milkshake in your face when you broke up with her. Was there anything that happened after that, or was the milkshake where it ended?”
I wince and smooth my hand over my jaw. “We had breakup sex that night, but after that, it was over.”