Page 47 of War

“Why did I say yes again?” I ponder aloud, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

Though the question is rhetorical, Josie answers anyway. “Because you wanted to be my mom.”

Everyone at the table laughs, and I smile down at her, even if it hitstoo close to the truth. If War is bothered by the comment, he doesn’t let it show, though.

“I should probably tell the boys asap, since none of you know how to keep a secret,” he says, his attention drifting between Lennox and Sara specifically.

Lennox grins. “Oh, honey. When was the last time you checked your notifications? I can’t imagine the group chat isn’t already blowing up.”

Brayden must have been a pickpocket in a previous life, because before War can reach for the device, he’s got it out and is holding it in front of War’s face to unlock the screen. “Dude,” he shouts. “You have ninety-eight notifications.”

“Let me see that.” Grumbling, War reaches for it.

Before he can take it from Brayden, Hannah swipes it out of the teenager’s hand. “The first message is from Aiden. Looks like Lennox has the biggest mouth.” Hannah waggles her brows. “‘Holy shh’—look at me censoring; see? I’m getting better at this—‘you finally got your dream girl to give you a chance.’”

My heart stutters, and my attention flies to War, who just shoves his hands into his pockets and rolls his eyes.

“This one is from Brooks. ‘Congrats, man. Ava is the best. Glad you finally got the girl.’” Hannah’s devious smile grows wider with every word she reads, mirth filling her tone. “Hall chimed in next. ‘Duck’—he didn’t actually say that, but I remembered the rules—another one bites the dust.’ Hall again: ‘But I’m happy for you, man. We all knew it was only a matter of time.’”

“All right, I think we’ve heard enough.” War stretches out one long arm, but before he can grab the phone, Hannah is passing it to Lennox.

“No, I don’t think we have,” my pink-haired friend says. “Exactly how long have you been pining for our precious Ava?”

War scoffs. “I don’t—I didn’t.” He huffs and meets my gaze. “Can you make them stop?”

I should, but I’m too bewildered to form a coherent sentence.

“Since he first met her,” Josie says, popping up on her knees on the chair beside me, her hands splayed on the white tablecloth. “Right,Bray? He told us all about the beautiful ballerina he met and how it was love at first sight.”

Brayden only side-eyes War and shrugs.

With a gasp, Hannah zeroes in on Josie. “When was this?”

I’m also wondering when this happened.

“Brayden and Tyler were visiting me in the hospital, and we were playing Pretty Pretty Princess. I asked if he had his own pretty pretty princess, but he just laughed and said I was the only pretty pretty princess in his life. ThenI asked him if he’d ever been in love.” Josie glances at War, not the least bit ashamed of herself for giving him up, despite his frown. “He said no, but that he once thought he could fall in love. It was when he watched the prettiest ballerina dance. When I asked what happened to her, he said he never saw her again.” She eyes me. “But later, when Tyler was in the bathroom, Brayden told me that he saw Tyler’s pretty ballerina all those years ago. He said she had long red hair and green eyes, just like you. And you’re a ballerina, right?”

It takes everything in me not to look at War. To tamp down on the hope that threatens to bubble up in me when I consider what she’s saying. It’s in my best interest not to let myself believe that he’s felt anything but animosity for me since that day he found me in the studio.

Because the way she describes it, her retelling of howhedescribed it, was exactly how I felt. The closest thing to love I’ve ever experienced was in the moment he had me backed up against the mirror and asked me out on a date. That man was Tyler. He’s been War ever since. He’s asked me to call him Tyler again, but I think doing that will screw with me. All of this is screwing with me.

Love at first sight? That’s absurd, right?

“That’s why I asked Tyler to sign me up for ballet,” Josie continues, like her confession hasn’t completely upended this conversation as well as my understanding of Tyler Warren.

I still haven’t looked at him. I can’t.

I can’t look at anyone. Head down, I study the tablecloth, my empty glass. Every eye is fixed on me. I can feel it. And I want to turnand run, rush back to my apartment and hide while I consider what this all means.

If it means anything at all.

“I always wanted to take ballet,” Sara says, drawing attention to herself.

Relief floods me. I could kiss her for taking the pressure off me.

“But I’m way too much of a klutz for that.”

“Oh my gosh, do you remember when we did that talent show in college?” Lennox asks, full-on laughing.

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