Page 31 of Plotting Summer

Tristan’s gaze lifts to mine, and he smiles that darn smile of his that makes me start repeating my motto again: Just friends. We’re just friends.

“What do you mean you started crying?” Jane asks, sharing a nervous glance with Tala as we sit around the kitchen table.

I drop my attention to Serenity’s nails and the layer of pink polish I’m brushing on. “I don’t know. I just started crying when I saw the manatees.”

“Like a tear or two?” The hope in Tala’s voice makes my stomach sink. Both Jane and Tala have observed my floodgate sobbing at one point or another throughout the years, so I’m sure they’re hoping Tristan wasn’t witness to one of these sporadic episodes that seem to be brought on by emotionally heightened situations.

For example, my eighth-grade English teacher asked our class if we could think of an event in literature where someone risked their own life for another person. When he called on me (no, I didn’t have my hand raised), the first thing that popped into my head was Mrs. Weasley battling Bellatrix Lestrange in Ginny’s place—the “Not my daughter!” scene. And then suddenly, I was sobbing and blabbering about Fred and Tonks and Lupin. This occurrence had as much to do with the emotional overwhelm of being called on when I wasn’t expecting it as with my strong feelings about this moment in Harry Potter. It’s lucky Jane and I were established best friends at this point because her support mitigated most of the teasing.

“Nope. Full on bawling,” I say. “And then I told him it’s probably because I’m PMSing since I’m about to start my period.”

Neither of them speak, but I keep painting as if my admission doesn’t faze me.

“All in all, I definitely think I helped make the outing even more memorable.” But not in a good way. I finish painting Serenity’s last nail and begin blowing on them.

“What about the rest of the date?” Jane asks.

“It wasn’t a date,” I remind her for the tenth time since she dropped by to see how things went with Tristan. I screw the lid on the nail polish and lean back in my chair. “And I’m not even sure how the rest of it went. From my ugly-cry session onward, I couldn’t get out of my head. I highly doubt he’ll want to repeat the events of today.”

“He will,” Jane says resolutely.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should call this whole thing quits before I embarrass myself worse.”

Tala quirks her head from the other side of the table to see Serenity’s nails. “Those look so pretty,” Tala says. Serenity lifts up her hands and wiggles her fingers. “How about you go pick out the movie. We should probably start it soon so you can get to bed on time.”

“I already decided what movie we’re watching—The Princess Bride.”

Jane smiles. “Count me in! That’s one of my all-time favorites.”

“Don’t you have plans tonight?” I ask. “Because there will be plenty of time to watch movies with us after you fall in love.”

“No plans.” She sighs dramatically, but then brightens again. “Well, besides The Princess Bride.”

I lean toward her, reaching for her hand. “In that case, you definitely have to stay.”

“As you wish.”

At the laughter that bursts out of Jane and me, Tala rolls her eyes. “It’s incredible that you two are still single.”

Jane and I look at each other with widened eyes and gaping, offended mouths, then we laugh harder.

“We’ll start the movie in a few minutes.” Tala is looking at Serenity again. “Do you want to go get in your jammies?”

Serenity hesitates only briefly, then hops up from her chair at the table. When her footsteps echo on the stairs, Tala’s gaze narrows on me, silencing the last of my laughter. “I’m going to begin by saying that I love you. Every. Single. Bit. Of. You. Is that clear?” I nod, the realization of why Serenity was sent away now dawning on me—Tala’s transitioning into Mama mode and she doesn’t want her daughter to hear the forthcoming lecture. “But you need to stop overthinking EVERYTHING. Tristan wouldn’t have come up with this plan if he didn’t enjoy being around you.”

“He’s trying to help. That’s what Tristan does.”

“Or maybe he actually likes you.” When I pin Tala with a look, she lifts her hands. “As a friend. But either way, stop selling yourself short.”

Jane is nodding in a way that makes me think this is some kind of intervention. “Tala's right. Just be your wonderful, glorious self. He won’t be able to resist falling in love with you.”

“I don’t want him falling in love with me.” Okay, so that’s not entirely true. I may have subconsciously concocted a few fictional scenarios where he does exactly that, but that’s beside the point. “I just need to be good enough friends that I can tell him the truth.”

Jane and Tala sober, as though they’d forgotten that monumental piece of information.

“Preferably in a way that doesn’t end with me having my name on a court order.” I pause. “And, after today, I’d prefer to avoid another emotional breakdown during my confession.” Is that asking too much?

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be,” Tala says.