Page 185 of Tangled Like Us

“Please tell me my brothers didn’t put you up to that,” I say.

“All I’ll say is that it was the summer of a lot of stupid shit, not all I would repeat, and Tom, Eliot, and I have officially dubbed it the Stoopid Summer. Stoopid with two O’s.”

They have a name for a summer. I shouldn’t be surprised.

“And speaking of summer,” Sulli says, a smile burgeoning on her face as she glances to Luna. Like they’re in on something. Can’t be surprised about that either. They do share a room together. They’re practically college dormmates.

I rub the avocado cream on my face and pass the bottle to Sulli.

Luna sheds her shirt and pants, only in a pair of underwear and a bra. She starts lathering her avocado cream-glitter mixture all over her belly. “You know how Moffy will offhandedly mention that Farrow says he smells like summer? Like all the time.”

Yes, Maximoff will do that frequently. Almost like he doesn’t even know he’s speaking out loud.

“Oui.”

Sulli swipes two green stripes underneath her eyes like warpaint. “And then we overheard Thatcher saying you smell like spring. I wasn’t fucking eavesdropping or anything—”

“I was.” Luna raises a green glitter hand.

My heart thumps hard in my chest.Please tell me they didn’t hear anything else.

“Your door was cracked open,” Luna explains.

Thank God.

Relief washes over me. Thatcher and I most definitely always closedandlocked the door when we had sex. Very little chance of being overheard.

Luna rubs the green glitter on her legs, about to completely cover herself in the avocado mask.

I try to follow their logic. “So Maximoff smells like summer. I smell like spring.” Where is this going?

Sulli nods. “And Farrow has white fucking hair. And Thatcher always wears those plaid flannels like he’s about to chop some wood in the forest.”

Uh-oh.

Luna beams. “Farrow is winter. Thatcher is fall. Which makes the four of you theSeasons.” She claps her hands accidently. “You have your own friendship name. We do our best.” She pounds a fist with Sulli.

“The Seasons,” I say with a smile.

“And the best part of it,” Sulli says. “Is that the media doesn’t know about it, so they can’t ruin a good thing like they always do.”

Luna and I share a look this time. Sulli blames the media for picking up the story about Beckett’s texts so quickly.

It spread like wildfire and made it harder for security to remove them. And even with the girl breaking her NDA, all she did was pay a fine. Beckett shouldered most of the consequences. Now he doesn’t text anyone. Not even me. He’ll only call or FaceTime.

A knock suddenly raps on the door.

“Jane.” Thatcher’s deep voice is a bit muffled outside. “My mom wants to know if you prefer white or red pasta sauce.”

I’m meeting his family in a couple days.

Security surprisingly approved the outing. Thatcher isn’t sure why they would, and I know it’s put him on edge.

I want to make a good impression with his family. I’m nervous that I’ll fail at this too. I’ve never had to do this before, and I can’t ask Moffy for advice.

Farrow doesn’t have much of a family. So Moffy didn’t really “meet the parents” in the traditional sense.

I speak to the door. “I like both sauces.”