Page 97 of The Surprise

“Don’t I?” I’d never thought of it in those terms, but I think I must. “I can’t stop thinking about her, and it’s not a crush. I’ve known her for a year. I’ve kissed her. I’ve spent as much time with her as I could. She’s tried to push me away a million times.”

Izzy squeals, and both our horses startle. “Youlovesomeone, Ethan Elijah Brooks.”

“I knew I’d beat you to it.”

“I love her, too,” Izzy says. “But maybe not the same way as you.”

“You do like her, though, right?”

“Mom does too, you know.”

“Does she?” I doubt Mom would say it to me.

“She has her reservations, but she will with anyone we like. She says good things about her, and she loves Donna.”

“That’s true.”

“Steve likes Donna, too. So it’s not like her whole family’s a mess.”

“Not exactly like they’re the Capulets,” I say.

“Wait, isn’t Romeo the Capulet and Juliet’s the Montague?” Izzy scratches her ear.

I shrug. “It’s been like five years since I studied that.”

“Either way, it’s not as bad as their situation, so that’s good.”

And even better, when Izzy texts Beth, suggesting they meet for coffee, Beth agrees right away. I spend the next few days running through ideas for what to do when we meet. Flowers? Too corny. Plus, last time I got flowers, it didn’t end well. A big pile of balloons might embarrass her. Brownings is kind of the central hub of Manila, so everyone would be sure to notice them.

In the end, I just put on a nice pair of jeans, a polo shirt I got from Amanda, and a clean pair of cowboy boots. My more elaborate plans have all crashed and burned, so I decide to keep things simple. I’m sitting at a table that’s facing the door when Beth walks in, wearing a cute summery dress with a little peach sweater. Her sandals clack as she walks, her eyes scanning the tables.

Until they meet mine.

Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. “Where’s Iz—” She sighs. “Really?”

I stand up. “It’s just coffee.”Please, please sit.

“Ethan.”

“Please?”

Beth looks at the ceiling, and. . .is she tearing up?

I walk toward her. “Are you alright?” I reach for her arm.

She yanks it away and steps backward.

I’m not going to lie. It hurts a little, being treated like I’m some kind of pariah or something. I can’t tellwhy. I didn’t do anything bad. The last I knew, we were finally going on a date.

As if I’ve accosted her or something, she asks, “What do you want?”

“Just have a muffin or something,” I say. “If you don’t want to see me after we talk for a bit, well, I won’t do anything like this again.”

She looks like a startled deer, unsure whether she should run or freeze.

Freeze, I think.Don’t run again. Not yet.

As if she could hear me, she shakes her head. But then she sits down. “One cup.”

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