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And they were all...paired off.

Well, not Fia. But that didn’t surprise Rory. Fia didn’t want that kind of thing, and Rory wasn’t sure she did, either. Or rather, she had other things to worry about first.

Such as getting a date. Getting kissed.

Not being such a loser.

Well. She was on the right path.

She had four weeks left in Pyrite Falls. And she had a plan.

Her Summer of Rory.

It was such a funny thing, but she’d been thinking a lot about reputations and legends. Rory Sullivan had, for the longest time, been known as a quitter. A weird girl, best ignored—which was easy enough because it wasn’t like she was going to push her way into a social group. Somebody you didn’t want to invite to your birthday party. Somebody that you poured beer on after abandoning her in a closet.

Rory was a wet blanket because her reputation preceded her, and she allowed it to define who she was. She was done with that. She was redefining herself.

Perhaps not by kissing strange hot men in the woods, but there were other ways to have a rebirth. She was certain.

Thank God for Lydia, because without her, Rory wouldn’t have had anyone. But Lydia liked that Rory’s humor was quiet and a little bit sly. She liked sitting in a corner, too, even though Rory was confident that Lydia didn’t have to do that if she didn’t want to.

Rory had always been a bookworm. Content to experience adventure in the pages of those books, because she was too anxious to do it any other way, and it was far too easy for her to let herself back out of things when she was uncomfortable. But if she was going to make this move to Boston, if she was going to start over, if she was going to reinvent herself, then that meant she had to get a firm foundation underneath her.

It was funny that all of this was happening when Gideon Payne was coming back home.

His name elicited a reaction from everyone. He was a legend in town.

But the reaction he elicited in her was different.

Personal. Somewhat embarrassing. Definitely deep.

She stared down at her journal, an ironic thing to be looking at while thinking of Gideon. But writing things down had always been formative for her. And yes, that had backfired on her that time in middle school. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore.

Thank God.

This list was a part of her plan. A big part of it.

But she wasn’t going to share it with anybody. And anyway, this was all part of her whole process. She didn’t need to feel silly, because she was happy enough with what she was doing. She didn’t need to feel silly, because she stood by the decision she was making to change her life. And maybe all of this would blow up in her face, but this was about being active, rather than passive.

Well. Quitting was active. In its way.

She had actively shoved herself into the category of thebeige secondhand sweater.

If she were an article of clothing, that would be her.

She wanted to be a pair of stilettos. A miniskirt.

A bit exciting, a little racy.

How could she go to her new life in Boston when she hadn’t even conquered the life she had here?

She started to feel warm and peeled her sweater off.

And nearly groaned when she realized that she had a beige T-shirt on underneath.

She was still wrestling with the sweater when Fia walked in, carrying a basket overflowing with fruits and vegetables. Bright pink and golden raspberries, sun-warmed apricots, carrots with cheerful green tops. She loved that. She would miss it.

“Can you go check on our new tenant today?” Fia asked, setting her heavy basket down.