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I screenshot it so fast I nearly sprain a finger and send it to the group.

Emily: Girl.

Emily: You’re not exploring the map anymore.

Emily: The map is exploring YOU.

I laugh until my stomach hurts, sitting in my car in a parking lot, grinning at my phone like it holds the secret to everything.

Saturday suddenly feels very far away.

CHAPTER 4

Saturday arrives with entirely too much pressure for a cup of coffee. Which is stupid; it’s beans and water, sometimes a deeply inappropriate amount of caramel, and it should not have me standing in front of my closet at eight-thirty debating whether a green sweater says casual but emotionally available or I own three houseplants and have opinions about candles and which way the toilet paper should be hung, which, of course, is over. The loose end should always come over the top of the roll. I’m holding a sweater in both hands and trying to decide between my favorite pink sweater and the green.

Emily: You awake? Date day.

I stare at the message. Rude. Of course I’m awake!

Me: NOT A DATE. He called it coffee.

Emily: He called it coffee and then asked if you wanted it to be a date.

Me: Semantics.

Chloe: Wear the pink sweater.

Me: HOW DO YOU KNOW I’M HOLDING THE PINK SWEATER?

Chloe: Because it’s your favorite. And you sent me a pic three months ago asking if it made you look twelve, and I told you how beautiful you look in it.

Fair.

Maya: Wear whatever makes you feel cute.

Madison: Also wear something easy to take off.

Holly: MADISON.

Madison: What? We are all thinking it.

Lily: It’s not even ten in the morning.

Madison: Desire observes no clock.

I laugh out loud.

Emily: Ignore her. Be yourself.

Me: Myself is currently panicking.

Emily: Then be panicky yourself.

That is such an Emily answer.

Me: Fine. Jeans. Pink sweater. Boots.

Chloe: Cute.