But when she drops her hand, those wrinkles are back. “We are an us,” she says, reaching out to twine her fingers with mine. “Maybe nobody knows we are, but to me, I feel . . . us-ish.”
Cheeks hot, I squeeze her fingers back. “The us-iest.”
Jude reaches over to fiddle with the ends of my hair again. “The most us I’ve ever felt with anyone,” she says.
“More us-y than with Mason?”
The words are out before I even have time to think about them, really, and I immediately wish I could call them back. Mason is Jude’s ex, the boy she’d dated since freshman year, and they broke up last spring. Right before it all started with me and Jude. Since that first kiss, sitting on the floor of her room last month, we haven’t mentioned Mason. It’s been easy, since he’s away at soccer camp or something for part of the summer, but sometimes I wonder how it’ll be when he comes back. I’ve always liked Mason even if I am head over heels for his girlfriend, but there’s no doubt things have been easier with me and Jude without him here.
Jude flops onto her back, studying the ceiling of the tent. “Weren’t we kind of an us even when Mason was around?”
She rolls back onto her side to face me, and I feel my cheeks go hot again, because yeah, we were. There wasn’t any of this kissing or other fun stuff, but she was definitely my favorite person to be around.
“Maybe,” I acknowledge, and she grins before draping an arm over my waist.
Jude kisses me again, and thoughts about Mason, Scotland, and fancy schools with unicorn crests vanish in the warm summer air.
CHAPTER 2
“Mason is back.”
I’m sitting in Darcy’s game room at her house, slouched on the floor with my back against the couch, an Xbox controller in my hands.
On the giant TV in front of me, I watch a dragon grab my avatar, Lady Lucinda, by the head, shaking her so hard that the body goes flying offscreen.
Great.
Sighing, I rest the controller on my stomach as the screen goes white. “That was my last life,” I mutter, reaching for the can of Sprite Zero beside me. Darcy nudges my foot with hers, her toenails a bright purple.
“Millie, did you hear me?”
On my other side, Lee sits up, taking the controller from me and restarting the game. “She heard you, Darce. She doesn’t care.”
“I do care,” I insist, “because I like Mason, and it’s nice that he’s back. I just don’t think it has anything to do with me.”
Crossing her legs, Darcy sits up straighter as she looks at me over the tops of her glasses. They’re new, the acid-green frames bright around her dark eyes. “Millie,” she says, and I roll my shoulders, uncomfortable.
“They’re done,” I remind her as I sit up, too. “Over. And me and Jude are—”
“A summer fling that will break your heart,” Darcy fills in, and I scowl at her.
This is the drum Darcy has been beating ever since I told her about me and Jude—that Jude is flighty, that she changes her mind more often than she changes hair colors, that I know what Jude is like.
I know she’s saying it because she cares about me, but it’s still not exactly my favorite stuff to hear, and besides, she’s wrong. And maybe a little jealous. Jude and Darce were really close a few years back, but as Jude and I got tighter, Darcy sort of ended up on the outside a bit. Our Foursome Friend Group is constantly shifting.
Me and Jude now being a thing has obviously shifted things even more.
“Jude is kind of flaky,” Lee acknowledges as his fingers fly on the controller’s buttons. He glances at me, auburn hair flopping over one eye. “Sorry, Mill, but you know it’s true. It’s one of the things we love about her, but I can see it making her a bad girlfriend.”
“You’re not exactly an expert in girlfriends, Lee,” I say, and he gasps with faux outrage, his eyes still glued to the game.
“How dare you, Amelia Quint?” Then his face breaks out in a grin. “Also, yes, fair. But I am an expert in you, and I don’t want to see you get your heart smashed. Darcy is being kind of bitchy, but Darcy is not necessarily wrong, which is usually the case with Darcy, let’s all be very real here.”
“Why do I even invite you over?” Darcy mutters, picking up her can of soda and taking a long sip.
“Because you love me, and you want to support my video game habit,” Lee says, then gives a triumphant whoop as the dragon on the screen flops down dead.
Tossing the controller to the thick carpet, he leans over me to grab the bag of cheese puffs that have ended up stuffed under the sofa. “This setup is so wasted on you, Darce,” he tells her. “You don’t even play.”
Darcy shrugs, and I take a cheese puff from Lee, careful not to get any crumbs on the carpet. Not that Darce or her parents would care. But their house is so nice that I feel like I should care.
Darcy’s dad works for some oil company in Houston, which means her family has a lot more money than mine or Lee’s does. It’s never been an issue, but I’m still really aware of the pretty flooring, the giant TVs, how Darce has her own bathroom attached to her bedroom.
Now she looks at me, eyes narrowed a little. “Jude said you got into that fancy school in Scotland.”
“What?” Bright orange flecks fly from Lee’s lips as he brings a hand up to his mouth, and I look back and forth between the two of them, my stomach dropping.
“She told you that?” I ask, and Darcy grabs the bag of cheese puffs from Lee.
“Yes,” Darce tells me. “Are you not going because of her?”
I pick up my soda again, more for something to do than because I’m actually thirsty. “No,” I finally say. “I’m not going because it’s expensive.”
Lee snorts at that. “Right, because a scholarship is totally beyond you, O Lady Smartypants.”
“Exactly,” Darcy agrees, and I just shrug. It bugs me that Jude said anything to Darcy, especially since I hadn’t told anyone else myself.
But I just say, “It’s probably too late to get financial aid. And it was a stupid idea to apply in the first place. I just . . . wanted to see if I could get in. I didn’t really want to go.”
“Calling major BS on that, Mill,” Lee says, wiggling his toes at me. “You were talking about Scotland all last year.”
“We watched Brave at least three times over winter break,” Darcy adds, and I give both of them what I hope is a stern glare.
“A girl is allowed to change her mind,” I say, and then watch as they exchange glances.