Chapter 34
"If you don't stop reorganizing those sprinkles, I'm stealing your ice cream," Amelia threatens, pointing her spoon at me from across our corner booth at The Sugar Spot.
She's rocking her usual thrifted-but-make-it-fashion look—a cropped vintage band tee, paired with jean shorts that showcase her new belly ring.
"And don't think I missed you trying to dodge the wedding recap. "
I abandon my assault on the mint chocolate chip, my stomach twisting with the story I'm about to sell.
The same story I've been feeding myself all week, hoping that if I say it enough times, it might start to feel true.
"There's nothing to dodge. Kristal ran it like a military operation in tulle.
The chicken was dry. Caleb did the electric slide barefoot. The end."
"Bullshit," Vinnie coughs into her strawberry scoop, earning an approving smirk from Amelia.
For someone who knows me less than a year, she's gotten terrifyingly good at calling me on my crap.
Must be all that artist's intuition. Or it's just that she's dating the most observant man in Hallow's End.
"The chicken was dry," I insist, focusing on my ice cream because looking at them would mean admitting too much—like the fact that I can't stop thinking about that kiss.
Daphne watches me over her butter pecan. She's different since coming home from Cresden. Softer edges, less pristine scrubs and perfect ponytails, more like the girl who used to split sundaes with me after failed math tests. "You know that's not what they're asking about."
My spoon scrapes ceramic. "Nothing happened with Caleb."
"Wait, nothing?" Vinnie's eyebrows shoot up. "Like, at all?"
"Nope." I keep my voice casual, ignoring the hot flush creeping up my neck. "Not even a moment."
"I was sure something would happen." Vinnie leans forward, hair falling into her grey eyes.
The girls exchange glances, and I focus on my ice cream instead. They'd never understand why I can't tell them. It's not just embarrassment. It's that telling them would make it a thing. A crisis. A situation that needs fixing.
And I can't handle their well-meaning intervention.
Amelia would immediately go into protective mode, ready to verbally eviscerate Caleb.
Daphne would analyze it to death, trying to find some logical explanation that makes me feel better.
Vinnie would give me sympathy, seeing right through my fake smiles.
I shrug. "We danced. We drank. He complained about Kristal's playlist lacking sufficient punk-rock. That's the whole story."
What I don't say is how deeply I've fallen into the shame spiral since that night.
How I've spent hours replaying every touch, every look, every word, wondering how I got it all so wrong.
If I can't even read the energy between me and my best friend, what the hell am I doing selling crystal kits and manifestation journals to tourists?
It's not just about Caleb rejecting me. It's about my entire identity crumbling.
And there's this other thing. This tiny, fragile hope I can't quite kill. That maybe he just panicked. That if I give him space, he'll figure it out. Telling my friends would mean watching that hope die in real time as they gently explain reality to me. I'm not ready for that kind of clarity yet.
"Honestly," Daphne says, twisting her delicate gold bracelet. "I honestly wasn't sure you'd all still be this close. Especially you and Caleb." Her ocean-blue eyes find mine. "After I left . . . I was sure I'd broken everything."
I reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You didn't break anything, Daph."
"Yeah, though I still stand by calling you both idiots. Mostly James," Amelia adds.
Daphne rolls her eyes. "Thanks for that stellar assessment."
"Have you talked to him at all since being back?" Vinnie asks.
"He's mastered the art of pretending I don't exist." She attempts a laugh that doesn't quite land. "So . . . no, not really."
"He's processing," I offer gently. "Six years is a long time to hold onto something, then suddenly have it standing in front of you."
"It's weird being back," Daphne continues. "Like everything's the same but I'm different."
I know exactly what she means. Because yeah, some things haven't changed.
The Sugar Spot still serves the best mint chip in three counties, and Amelia still steals bites of everyone's dessert.
But we're not the same girls who used to cram into this booth after football games, dreaming up futures that look nothing like the lives we're living now.
I stare at my melting ice cream, wondering why Caleb hasn't shown up at my place once since we got back. I figured I'd at least get a how's Ducky text. Or a meme. Or anything.
Guess not.
"Anyway," Daphne says, her smile turning mischievous. "You and Ethan, huh?"
Vinnie blushes. "He's a good guy. Smart. Quiet. Weirdly into stargazing." She ducks her head, grinning. "He's just . . . perfect?"
"Hard to believe Ethan even notices women," Daphne teases. "He's been ignoring Emily for years."
"Apparently he does." Vinnie's smile turns private, like she's remembering something too good to share.
"Living together has been incredible. He reads his comic books in bed wearing these dorky reading glasses, makes me tea when I'm stuck on a painting, and .
. ." She bites her lip, cheeks flushing. "Let's just say the sex is next level."
"Get it, girl," Amelia cackles, clearly delighted by this development.
Vinnie winces, glancing at Daphne. "Sorry, I don't want to be that annoying person."
"You're allowed to be happy." I smile at her. "Seriously. Gush away."
"Plus," Amelia adds, "we need someone in this group to have their shit together romantically. And spilling coffee on the hot English teacher on your first day in town? That was some top-tier meet-cute material right there."
Vinnie laughs, relaxing back into her seat. "It really was something special."
Amelia points her spoon at me. "Why are you working so much since getting back?"
"I like to keep busy."
"Zara and Katie said you've been showing up on your days off," Amelia says, her caramel eyes narrowing in that way that means I'm not escaping an interrogation. "And they need more hours with summer break. You're literally hovering when you should be, I don't know, not working."
"And," Vinnie adds, "you've basically taken over the entire Fourth of July celebration."
"Well, someone has to organize the parade floats." I aim for nonchalant, as if I haven't been volunteering for every possible committee just to keep my mind occupied.
"You don't even like parade floats," Daphne laughs.
But staying busy means not feeling anything. Helps me avoid checking my phone every five minutes like some lovesick teenager.
"Let's plan something fun," Amelia continues, clearly done with my deflection. "Group bowling, like old times? We can go for drinks after?"
"I don't know," Daphne worries her lip between her teeth.
The possibility of seeing Caleb makes my stomach lurch, which is ridiculous because we are fine. "Yeah, maybe not this year."
"Come on!" Amelia protests. "Vinnie needs to witness how horrible our skills are."
"Unfortunately, I'm going home for the Fourth." She offers an apologetic grimace. "But next time, I'm there."
Amelia narrows her eyes at me and Daphne. "You two aren't getting out of this. And Ivy," her grin turns wicked, "don't forget about your date tonight."
I groan, dropping my head onto the table. "How could I? You've only texted me about it seventeen times since breakfast."
"Date?" Daphne perks up. "With who?"
"Mark," Amelia answers before I can. "Pottery class guy. I set her up."
"That sounds exciting," Vinnie offers.
Sounds like someone Caleb would hate. The thought slips in before I can shove it back down. But maybe that's the point.
"He seems nice," I shrug.
"Nice is good," Daphne murmurs.
"Plus," Amelia adds, "he makes these amazing ceramic planters. Very cottagecore meets modern art."
"As long as he doesn't have a man bun," I mutter.
"Nope!" Amelia grins. "Just regular, non-threatening hair. And he volunteers at the animal shelter."
Of course he does. Because the universe clearly wants to punish me with the perfect on-paper guy when I can't stop replaying the way Caleb looked at me that night.
"Earth to Ivy!" Vinnie waves her hand in front of my face. "You went full space cadet on us."
"Just distracted by work stuff." The lie comes easier every time. "Summer tourist season is wild."
What's really on my mind is how my couch is too big without Caleb sprawled across it—critiquing my Netflix queue, or feeding Ducky contraband bread despite my lectures on proper duck nutrition.
The silence in my house stretches longer each night, now that his midnight texts about failed pizza experiments, or philosophical rants about whether a hot dog counts as a sandwich, are gone.
(It doesn't, and I'll die on that hill.)
I focus on Amelia's story about her mom, but my mind keeps drifting. Keep wondering if Caleb's as okay with this distance as he seems to be. But he made it clear what happened between us was a mistake. So I'll bury how I feel and go on this date with Mark.
"You're doing it again," Amelia says, pulling me back to the present.
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you disappear into your head while pretending to listen." She steals the last bite of my ice cream. "Usually means you're overthinking something."
"I'm not—"
"You've reorganized those sprinkles six times," Vinnie points out.
"I'm just tired." I drop my spoon. "And worried about the date tonight."
"Wear that green dress," Daphne suggests. "The one with the—"
"Already picked out," Amelia interrupts proudly. "Along with backup options if she chickens out."
"I'm not going to chicken out."
But part of me wants to cancel, curl up on the couch with Salem, and ignore the growing hollow in my chest.
"Good!" Amelia stands, pulling me into a hug. "Go home. Take a bath. Put on that dress. Let yourself have this."
I hold her tightly, resisting the urge to cry into her shoulder like I'm fifteen again, fumbling through my first heartbreak.
"Text us how it goes?" Vinnie asks as we head outside.
"Every detail," Amelia adds. "Especially if he makes you something on the pottery wheel. Very Ghost-moment potential there."
I manage a laugh that doesn't sound completely forced. "You've seen that movie too many times."
"There's no such thing as too much Patrick Swayze," Daphne says sagely, and we're all giggling like we used to, like nothing's changed.
But everything has.