Page 2

Chapter Two

“I’m sorry it didn’t work with Hot Dog Cart Guy.” Ava climbs onto my bed and sits next to me, crisscross applesauce, leaning against the headboard.

“I am too,” Bek says, from her favorite spot in the retro bubble chair. My dad bought it for me when I was twelve and going through a 70s phase, but really, it has always been Bek’s chair.

“It’s no big deal. I still feel sort of guilty that it took him by surprise though.” I pull up the app on my phone to order a pizza. I tap on our last order and hit the reorder button. Three more clicks and pizza is officially in our future. I lean back against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder with Ava, and soak in the comfort of the moment. Over the years, this scenario, with Ava tucked up next to me on the bed and Bek curled like a cat in her chair, has become my favorite of all scenarios.

“Maybe you have helped make him a little easier for future first dates by explaining that his topics of conversation weren’t appropriate.” Ava pulls my pink, furry heart pillow into her lap .

I love my two best friends more than anything in the world. Where Bek always sees the best in a person, Ava always sees the best in a situation. “Honestly, there’s probably a girl out there who would enjoy his stories,” I say. “He’s a good storyteller, I just didn’t happen to enjoy the content. He doesn’t have to change. He just needs to find a different first date.”

“That’s true, Sam.” Bek looks at me like I’m her best student. “Just because the two of you didn’t hit it off doesn’t indicate that either of you is flawed in any way. Neither of you must change, you just need to look elsewhere.”

Ava leans her head against the headboard, a contemplative expression sharpening her usually soft features. “You know who I think you should date?”

I look at her and frown. She’s never played matchmaker before. “Who?”

“Brent Post.”

“What?” I laugh. “That’s so random and weird, Ava. Are you punking me right now?”

“Oh, he’s so sweet,” Bek says.

I side-eye her. “You think everyone is sweet.”

“She doesn’t,” Ava wags a finger. “So far, she has only thought Dylan Scott is sweet, and look how right she was about that.” Dylan and Ava are dating.

I admit, I’m envious of the way Ava’s face lights up when she talks about her boyfriend. And of the devilish smirk he gets when he first sees her, like he can finally have fun now that they are together. They are a ridiculously happy couple. I think of Brent--tall, lanky, with glasses--and shake my head. “Brent Post is a nerd. We would have nothing in common. What would we even talk about?” I can’t stop laughing at the thought of me sitting across a romantic candle-lit dinner table from an awkward Brent while he pushes his glasses up his nose every thirty seconds and says “um” every fifth word. He would probably wear a plaid shirt with a pocket protector while I’d be in Chanel and Dior.

“He was my lab partner,” Ava says. “And he was so nice and super patient with me all year. You can imagine how hard it would be to have clumsy me as a chemistry partner.”

I grimace. “Yikes.”

“Right?” Ava chuckles at herself. “And he isn’t a nerd. He’s more…bookish, I think.” She peers at Bek who nods in agreement. “He isn’t particularly scholarly or uber-smart, he just likes to learn. And he’s really cute!”

I give Ava an ironic look because my memory of Brent doesn’t conjure up cute.

Bek giggles and hugs herself. “He really is.”

“You should date him then.” My glare cuts to Bek. I don’t even understand why they’re suggesting this nerd for me. I need someone as outgoing as me, not someone who always has their nose in a book.

“Just think it over.” Dang, Ava is unusually persistent with this. “The more I got to know him, the more I liked him. I can’t believe I didn’t think to suggest him sooner. The two of you would get along great.”

“Now I feel desperate.” I bury my hands in my hair like I’m going crazy. “You’re pushing just anybody on me.”

Ava rolls her eyes. “Have you been listening? He isn’t just anybody. I actually got to know him and think he’s great.”

“He reads books, Ava. Have I ever read a book voluntarily?”

Bek chimes in. “I think it’s a good idea too. But we need to pick a show before the pizza gets here. You didn’t order anchovies, did you?”

I bite my tongue, close my eyes, and silently count to five. Bek drives me crazy with her paranoia that I’ll order anchovies on the pizza. She reminds me every single time. Even if she didn’t have a fish allergy, I would never choose anchovies. I throw my white, fuzzy bunny pillow at her and she catches it and tucks it between her cheek and the chair.

My irritation softens as I study her in the bubble chair. She is as opposite from me as it gets. She’s petite, with short brown hair, delicate features, an airy voice, and an ethereal personality. I’m tall, with a curvy figure that carries about ten pounds more than the body mass index recommends. My stick-straight, white-blond hair falls to just past my shoulder blades. My face is carved from dramatic angles and my eyes are a pale, pale blue. My manner is always self-assured, even when I’m not sure. She’s a flitty fairy princess and I’m the unshakable Ice Queen.

“Anyway, he works at the bookstore if you decide to reconsider,” Ava says.

I grin. “Bookstore Boy!”

Ava, on the other hand, is somewhere in the middle of Bek and me in looks and demeanor. She’s taller than Bek, but shorter than me. She has only enough curves to make her gender clear. Her hair is a rich chocolate brown to Bek’s sun-kissed caramel. She is shy and reserved, less so now that she’s dating Dylan, but I think Ava will always be the type to think before acting.

Hmmm.

I squint at her now and reconsider what she said. If she’s recommending Brent Post, that means she’s taken the time to think it through and has concluded that it’s worth mentioning. I bite my lip and turn my attention to the television, where I’m supposed to be scrolling my streaming services to find something for us to watch. I try to pay attention to the titles and descriptions I’m scrolling through, but now all I can see is Brent. With his floppy hair and glasses, I don’t even really know what he looks like. Dismissing the suggestion, with a mental eye roll, I focus on choosing our evening’s entertainment.