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She waited a while before she said, “Um… typically you’re supposed to follow that up with what the actual answer is.”

“You’re so stodgy.”

“Stodgy?”

“I told you this isn’t reallyme.And I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She swatted my arm. “Oh my god, you dork, that’s literally why I’m offering. I can give advice and stuff! I know clothes better than you, and you know your likes better than me. Two heads are better than one!”

“Um. Maybe.” I scratched my head. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right? I’ll have you disappear if you do.”

“No need for mafia-esque threats, I’m not telling a soul.” Her expression softened. “Relax. I get that this is a big step for you. And I’m super, super excited for you. Both, you know, changing up your style, and your date with—”

“There’s no date and I’ve gotta go,” I said, turning and heading out the door. Kay shouted something behind me, but it turned out that when I had to go, heels were no impediment to Paisley Macleod—I sprinted over the pavement and didn’t slow down until I was at the end of the street, turning the corner and disappearing.

I texted Harper on my way, walking with my head down so nobody would see my face and realize.i'm sorryyyyy i got held up!!! out the door running rn

I’d kind of expected you’d just forgotten about this and were playing tennis

hey!!! i don’t have the attention span of a coked-up fruit fly

It wasn’t too long, thankfully, before I got to walk under the creaky old wooden archway and onto the boardwalk to where Harper was leaning against the rail, looking out over the water. The boards creaked underfoot, and she turned to look at me, her lips parting, eyes widening a fraction.

Ugh. The dork. As if she hadn’t seen me in my nice clothes. We’d kicked a couple of buckets since the treehouse—or whatever the saying was—and had a happy week of sneaky little rendezvous, but she still looked at me like she was seeing something rare and incredible. And I, uh, didn’t want her to stop doing that literally ever.

Of course, she’d stop once she left Bayview. But I threw the thought into a big, heavy box and padlocked it shut.

“Hey, loser,” I said, walking over to her side. “I’m sure you were on the edge of your seat waiting for the VIP—”

“You styled your hair differently.”

“Oh. Uh.” I nudged it, suddenly self-conscious. “I dunno, did I?”

I one hundred percent did, hoping she would comment on it. But now I was nervous about her commenting on it. What a world.

She smiled lightly, distantly, like she didn’t realize she was doing it. “You did. It looks really good on you.”

I felt swimmy and bubbly-happy all of a sudden, but I put my hands on my hips. “See? It’s not that hard to compliment me when you see me.”

She flinched, only just realizing she had complimented me, and she looked away. “I just… er… forget it. Let’s get going. My feet are killing me from standing around all day.”

“I was four minutes late. You run a bakery. You’ve been on your feet more than four minutes at a time.”

“Suddenly I can’t hear you.”

“Hey!” I jogged to catch up as she started away, walking alongside her. “You don’t want to play that game. You know how loud I can raise my voice.”

She laughed, and we settled into easy conversation, small talk, as we walked under the softening dusk that spilled from the horizon and over the water. It was pretty, casting the ocean in all shades of orange and deep vermillion, with a cool breeze blowing in over the water, and all I could think was that it was really awfully romantic.

This was what people did, right? Take the girl you liked out on a date to walk on the boardwalk together, head to a special place to spend some time together with just the two of you. You’d watch the stars come out over the ocean, hold hands, and stare deep into one another’s eyes. And all of that sounded… nice, with Harper.

So why didn’t I just say I liked her? Why did it feel like I had cotton balls jammed down my throat?

The bungalow was a cute little colonial-style thing jutting out over the water, past all the shops and where the boardwalk weaved through little resort houses, and Harper led me up to the front door, salmon-pink with a shiny gold number and doorhandle. She punched in a code on the keypad by the door, and she pushed the door open when it clicked.

“Home sweet home,” she said. “For a night, at least.”

“Oh my god, it’s so cute,” I laughed, hurrying inside ahead of her, into where the living room was all dressed up with pastel pink and blues, and even a little snack buffet set up on thelimestone countertop into the galley-style kitchen. The wall was all windows out onto the water, a glass door leading out onto a rear deck, and the view was just unbelievable. Maybe the sunrise from a place like this was worth waking up early for.