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“Would it be a relief at all?”

“If Gemma was real?”

“Yes,” Kamala said.

My throat tightened and so did my chest.What is that about?

“He would pick you,” she said.

“What? No, I still don’t like him like that,” I said. Icouldn’tlike Asher like that. I’d been lying to him. This wasn’t something I could just joke my way out of at this point. He would not choose me. He’d choose the person who had been truthful…or at leastmoretruthful.

“Okay, whatever you say.” Kamala’s eyes caught on something over my shoulder and went wide. “Don’t panic.”

“What? What is it?” I asked, going perfectly still. “Is it a sea lion? Did one come up behind me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Wren? Has that ever happened to you in the history of going to the beach?”

“There’s a first time for everything.” I looked over my shoulder, feeling a bit safer, and saw the real reason for her warning: Asher and Dale, heading our way from the parking lot of the closest restaurant, each holding a paddleboard under one arm.

“No,” I said. “No, no, no, no. Why do they have those?”

“They are probably planning on paddleboarding,” she said. “With us.”

“Not happening.” I felt the panic bubble rise up my chest at even the thought of going out there. “How am I going to get out of this? Help me think of a way out.”

“There’s this little thing I like to call the truth,” Kamala said, smirking. “You open your mouth and the words that come out of it are things that are real.”

“You want me to tell Asher I’m not Gemma right here, in front of Dale, the wannabe influencer.”

“Dale is not some heartless troll.”

“I mean…”

“Hello,” Asher said as he and Dale joined us. “Where are your boards?”

“I was told you were an award-winning paddleboarder,” Dale said. “I personally like my water sports to involve motors, but using my own muscles once in a while keeps them from atrophy.”

Award winning? Was this girl the self-proclaimed best ateverything? “Who told you that? Your masseuse?”

“I don’t think my masseuse knows your paddleboarding history,” he said.

“She meant the atrophy part of that statement,” Kamala said.

“Oh,” Dale responded. “The atrophy part was obviously fictitious.” He flexed his biceps as if to prove his muscles were the opposite of withering.

“How are you?” Asher said to me. He looked adorable in his swim trunks and an oversized bucket hat.

Panicking!I wanted to yell. “Trying to figure out what we’re going to do for the next Bean Games. We have twelve people signed up.”

“I know! And Chad thought nobody would be interested.”

“Who’s Chad?” Dale asked.

“He was literally in your backyard,” Kamala said.

“Oh, the pretty boy?”

“Heispretty,” Kamala agreed.