Page 20 of One Happy Summer

“And now you hate me.”

“What? No, that’s . . . I don’t hate you.” I shake my head back and forth. She looks so sad right now. So small.

“My gosh, it was a stupid moment caught on film,” she says, holding her hands up toward the ceiling, a pleading look on her face. “I’ve never lost it like that. I’ve always kept my cool. But noone seems to care. Everyone is just waiting for you to mess up. That’s all they care about.”

“Presley,” I say. “I don’t care about that video.”

“Yes, you do,” she says. “You must.”

I rub the back of my neck with my hand. “It’s not that. I just think that it’s probably not a good idea for us to hang out when you have a boyfriend.”

“A . . . boyfriend?” She looks at me like I have two heads.

“Yeah, Declan Stone?”

“What?” She shakes her head. “Declan’s not my boyfriend.”

“Really?” The word comes out more accusatory than I intended.

She looks to the side, then back at me. “Wait, you thought I had a boyfriend? That’s why you’re annoyed? This isn’t about that stupid video?”

“Well, don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Wait . . . I kissed you, and you thought . . . Oh my gosh, Briggs. I’m so sorry.” She lifts her hands and presses them against her cheeks.

“So, are you saying he’s not your boyfriend? But the internet . . .”

“Haven’t you heard not to believe everything on the internet?” She removes her hands from her face and lets them hang at her sides.

“There are pictures. A lot of them,” I say.

She bobbles her head back and forth. “Declan and I are . . . I don’t know what we are. We were sort of dating in the past, but that’s been over for a couple of years at least.”

“So then why does it seem like you’re together? At least online.”

“We have the same publicist and we get buzz every time we’re seen together, so she tends to put us . . . together. That’s it. It’s just a facade, really.”

“But . . . you’re not dating.”

She shakes her head in slow movements. “No, we are not.”

I rub my temples with my fingers. “I’m an idiot,” I finally say.

She shakes her head. “You’re not. How would you know? I could have warned you, but I wasn’t really thinking about Declan when I saw you last.”

The corner of her lips pulls up in a very adorable way. I can’t help the return smile that spreads across my face.

“Okay, so now that you know I’m not cheating on Declan Stone, and I did come all the way here, risking getting seen . . . Will you hang out with me tonight?”

Presley

“Favorite book?” I askBriggs as we sit together on the couch in his regally decorated apartment, the movie we were watching abandoned before it even really got started. Now it’s just background noise.

It wasNotting Hill. I wanted him to watch it, but apparently Briggs already had. He admitted to it just before Julia Roberts comes back for her bags in the movie. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me when I suggested watching it. It’s kind of cute that he watched it on his own.

Briggs looks up at the ceiling as he thinks. He’s reclined on the couch, his back sinking into the lower cushion, legs stretched out before him, his fingers intertwined and resting on his stomach. He looks like the epitome of relaxation, with not a care in the world, and I aspire to be him. He’s also two cushions’ worth of couch away from me.

Not that I’m keeping track of that.

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