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“But this is yours,” I muttered, flushing at the weeks’ worth of jam pies sticking out of my hoodie. Was I that big for him to suggest that I ate this much? But the embarrassing truth was that I did eat that much.

“Keep it,” he mumbled, his eyes sliding over every crevice of my face.

“Okay, I think I should be going back now.” I poked a thumb behind my shoulder.

His gaze softened. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I mumbled before rushing off to my house, feeling like my heart was going to jump out of my chest if I stayed with him any longer.

My heart still felt like I’d run a marathon after I changed into my pajamas and lay like a starfish in the middle of my bed, staring at the glowing red stars I’d stuck on my bedroom ceiling.

It wasn’t something a fourteen-year-old would do. I was growing up and wasn’t a kid anymore, but I liked it. But Mom said it didn’t matter how old we got. We could do anything we liked. Even the things others labeled as immature or childish.

The faint whisper of piano music leaked through my window and a rush swept through my blood.

Warm tears started to trickle out of the corner of my eyes the more the music rose and fell in a soft crescendo. It wasn’t like the music itself was sad; it was bright and beautiful. Rather, it was the person playing it who was making me sad.

Sad because I could never have a boy like him.

What Sabrina said earlier split through my head.Keep trying; he will never see you as more than his fat best friend.

It dug a deep insecurity in me that I felt like I couldn’t fix.

I wasn’t unhealthy. I just liked to eat, and it showed. It wasn’t like that wouldn’t get me any boys, but it wouldn’t get me a boy like Landon.

He seemed like the popular, cool boy, but on the inside, just like I’d thought, he was nice. More than nice that I found my heart melting for him.

My finger brought the collar of his hoodie to my nose. It smelled like him. I didn’t know exactly what the scent was, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.

It had a label named Brunello Cucinelli, and a little search on the internet told me that it cost more than all the pocket moneyI’d ever received in my entire life. I didn’t know how he could casually tell me to keep something that cost a fortune.

And that thought only made more tears fall out of my eyes. It felt silly for me to think like this, but more than a plain small-town girl, what else could I offer to a boy like Landon?

That night, I ate the entirety of all the jam pies, crying like a stupid girl.

Like I had lost something before it could even be mine.

The following morning, I woke feeling a lot better, my eyes trailing straight to my closed curtains.

I had made up my mind; a boy like Landon could only be a crush to me. I wasn’t allowed to imagine or fantasize more than that.

When I walked to the kitchen, the breakfast table was full. Looked like the boys stayed over last night, which meant that they were going to be practicing the whole day today.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Matty greeted me with a hug, followed by Emmie and Mikey who both nodded morning while they scarfed down the syrupy buttermilk pancakes that Mom freshly made for them.

“Morning, guys,” I muttered, taking my seat as my stomach growled. Even after all those jam pies and dinner last night, I was still hungry.

After polishing off our plates, the boys and I descended to our makeshift garage, which was already loaded with equipment. They alternated between our space and Emmie’s—however it struck their mood.

I liked hanging out with them while they practiced. It was like I was listening to a live version of my favorite playlist. I bobbed my head, busy casting on my first row of garter stitches, when the boys stopped abruptly.

The zap of Emmie’s last guitar note hung in the air like an electrifying current.

Frowning, I looked up, and my world stilled.

Landon stood by our garage door with the bright sun shining behind him. He had a cool, casual expression on his face as he regarded the boys. “I was told you guys needed an extra band member.”

“Really?” Emmie cocked his thick raven brow, his blue eyes squinting. “Says who?”