Page 66 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

I wonder what to make of her visit until the familiar scent of apple pecan muffins tips me off as to her intentions. She got my favorites—wild guess: she’s here to apologize.

“Hey.” She jolts to her feet, her full lips shaped into a timid smile.

“Hey?”

“Your mom let me in,” she explains. “Then she had to go monitor Ashley’s dance lesson.” She points to the ceiling, more specifically to the upstairs studio where Ash’s lessons take place every weekend.

Beyoncé’s “P

artition” echoes throughout the house, all the way down to the kitchen, and I roll my eyes to another dimension.

That’s so my mom.

God forbid the pricey, professional dance teacher she hired—the woman literally choreographed for some of the industry’s biggest names—be trusted to do her job correctly.

“I just thought I’d bring you muffins.” Dia gestures to the gift basket—her version of a white flag.

I stare blankly at her.

“What are you really doing here, Diamond?” I cut to the chase.

She cringes at my usage of her full name, bracing the basket on the bench behind her, then letting out a pained “Trying not to lose my only friend.”

I drink her in.

Wearing sweatpants, an old cardigan, and a messed-up bun, she looks like she hasn’t slept a wink in at least twenty-four hours. On second thought, I’m positive parts of the dark spots under her eyes are remnants from last night’s makeup.

Has she been crying?

“I’m not your only friend. You have Lacey, remember?”

She heaves a scoff. “Not anymore.”

I want to ask what she means by that. To ask her what happened after I left. If only my wounds weren’t so painfully fresh.

“I’m so sorry, Vee. I’ve been an awful friend.” Her eyes glimmer with regret. “And I’m not just talking about last night. I’m talking about all of senior year.”

I can’t maintain the eye contact, but it feels like a three-thousand-ton skyscraper has just been lifted off my shoulders.

Maybe there’s hope for us yet.

“If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been an awful friend since the moment I stepped into Finn’s house last summer. I’ve changed. I know I have.”

She’s right.

She has.

Ever since the day she dropped by my place and broke the news that she was seeing Finn Richards, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I was crazy. That by being reluctant to embrace Dia’s new world, I was standing in the way of change.

Change is normal, I told myself.

Change is a part of life.

Change is to be welcomed.

I just wish our friendship didn’t have to change, too.

“I got so wrapped up in it. I wanted to get a taste of that teenage experience everybody talks about, to try new things and I…” She pauses. “I love you so much, Vee, but I’ve always felt like I had to hide this part of myself from you. The part that wants to make mistakes, kiss the wrong boys. The part that wants to go wild every once in a while.”