Page 47 of Sister of the Bride

Yes. Play along.

Toby

Okay. What concert costs just 45 cents?

Pippin

50 Cent featuring Nickelback

Toby

… Damn, that’s a good one

Pippin

It’s not, but thank you. Do you want to come cake tasting with us? Tomorrow at noon. All you can eat, all the flavors you can imagine. Polly needs opinions. Meet me at Starbucks and we’ll go together.

The three dots blink, then disappear. Blink, then disappear. This little digital choreography continues long enough that my stomach has time to claw its way directly into my throat, and by the time his reply finally appears, I’m wound so tight that the little ding nearly causes me to send my phone sailing across the room.

Toby

Yum. I’ll be there.

I let out a breath I absolutely knew I was holding.

“Toby’s in. We’ll meet you and Mackenzie at the bakery,” I say, and Polly just grunts in response. I swear, if she doesn’t come up for air soon, I’m going to have to pry her jaws open and start chucking garlic knots into her mouth to make sure she gets enough sustenance.

I haven’t told Polly about kissing Toby. Partly it’s because I don’t know if I can drag her out of her academic coma long enough to get the whole story out. Partly it’s because I don’t want a steady stream ofI told you sos and smug looks whenever the three of us are together.

But mostly I think it’s because if I tell Polly, I’ll have to tell her all the details, and if I relive what happened, I may not be able to go through with the next part of the plan. Sure, Dr. Nora lightly suggested that I “interrogate” my desire to friend-zone Toby, but she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know Toby. She doesn’t knowToby. It was easy to tell her what I felt. Polly would make me work for it, and frankly, I don’t want to.

I just want to rip off this Band-Aid and then go back to how everything was before, when Toby and I were friends who had never kissed and I didn’t know how fucking good he is at it.

* * *

Toby’s waiting outside the Starbucks when I arrive, leaning against the wall with one leg bent, his foot pressed to the brick. There’s no novelty T-shirt today, just a well-worn pair of jeans and a loose button-up, the sleeves rolled to display his corded forearms. I press my lips together, worried that if I’m not careful, my tongue will fall out of my mouth and unfurl down the pavement like a cartoon character’s.

“I went ahead and ordered,” he says, pushing off the wall, two coffees in his hands. Well,mineis a coffee; Toby’s is the beverage equivalent of a stripper who calls herself Coffee. He passes me my drink.

“Venti sweet cream cold brew with caramel drizzle and whipped cream,” I say, reciting his usual order while staring in horror at his sweating cup. “There’s, like, a hundred grams of sugar in that, by the way.”

Toby shrugs. “I don’t do drugs. Caffeine and sugar is basically my speedball.”

“Lord be with you,” I say, holding up my cup.

“And also with you.” He clinks our plastic cups and then takes such a long pull from the straw that it makesmyteeth hurt.

“Don’t judge. I once saw you smear rainbow chip frosting on a piece of cinnamon toast,” he says.

“In my defense, I ate an edible half an hour before I did that,” I reply. I point to his sugary, creamy cup. “That right there is a sober choice.”

“I am what I am,” he says with a smile so warm it reignites Tuesday night’s fire in my bloodstream. If I don’t do what I came here to do—and fast—I’m going to accidentally trip over a cobblestone and fall directly into Toby’s lips.

“Hey, so, I don’t know how to, like, ease into this conversation, so instead I’m just going to Kool-Aid Man my way through it.” I glance at him over the rim of my cup.

“I wondered if we were going to talk about it,” he says. His shoulders noticeably tense, and in that instant I imagine at least fourteen wayshemight want this conversation to go. But before I can get too far off track, I bring Dr. Nora’s words to the front of my mind like a mantra.

Be honest with Toby.

---