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“True,” she said. “I hate you.”

I put my face in my hands and groaned.

“Maybe tonight you come clean?”

“Yeah, maybe.” I knew I should. I couldn’t even remember why I was doing this. To save a guy I hardly knew from humiliation? To help him restore his confidence after a bad breakup? To make Chad jealous? Those didn’t seem like good enough reasons anymore.

“Asher seems to have some sort of magical powers of persuasion over you,” Kamala said.

“He does not,” I insisted, but if I were being honest with myself, he did. He had charisma, an openness and optimism that were like pure sunlight drawing people in. It was an addictive feeling, but one I didn’t trust at all. It’s how my mom made people feel…until she didn’t.

“Is this it?” Zoey asked as we pulled up in front of the house with the bright blue door.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

I picked up the plastic container of cookies I had bought earlier today and got out of the car.

The walkway was lit, as was the porch, and Kamala rang the doorbell the second we stepped onto it.

“What?” she asked when I gasped. “Did you want to wait here and be anxious for several minutes?”

“Yes, I did.”

She laughed and the door swung open to reveal Asher and Dale, our official welcoming committee. Asher had not told me that Dale would be here too. He didn’t seem like the D&D type.

“Hi. This is Kamala.” I thrust the container of cookies forward.

“You named the cookies?” Asher asked, taking them and ushering us inside. “Individually? Or is that what they’re known as collectively?”

“Funny,” I said. We walked into a small front room that housed a pair of couches that looked like they’d never been sat on. They were a pale cream, with carved wood trim along the back and arms. Show couches. I wondered if we would’ve had show couches if Mom still lived with us. When she moved out, we had moved shortly after, into a smaller house. “No, the cookies are for you or your friends or whoever. This is my friend Kamala.” I presented Kamala like she was a guest on a talk show, holding out both my hands in her direction.

“You’re Coffee Shop Girl,” Dale said.

“Yes, I work at the coffee shop,” Kamala said

“I tried working once,” Dale said. “At Wren’s shelter. I decided it wasn’t for me.”

I rolled my eyes.

“He’s kidding,” Asher said to me. “I told him to try not to act like a rich snob around you and apparently he’s decided to lean into it.”

“When we were stalking you online,” Kamala said, “we saw you were loaded.”

Dale gave her a half smile. “I’m disappointed in myself for not being better prepared for online stalkers. I don’t have nearly enough shirtless pics on my page right now.”

“There were plenty,” Kamala said with a laugh.

“Did you like the short shorts one?”

“I mean, I didn’t click the little heart or anything. What kind of stalker would that make me?”

“But you liked it?”

Kamala giggled. Like actually giggled. Maybe I should’ve left her at home.

“So wait, you work at the coffee shop where Asher met you for the first time.” Dale pointed first to Kamala and then to me.