Enough of that. I’m going to spend the rest of the evening reading the book I brought, eating s’mores, listening to Ari as she tries to piece together the right chord progression for her newest song. I am going to relax.
I grab my shoes and start to slip them back on.
“Please. He’s such a nerd. You know he plays Dungeons and Dragons, right?”
I freeze. I don’t have to look to know it’s Janine Ewing, her voice carrying easily into this little alcove. I can’t see her, or who she’s talking to, but there are only a few boys she could be talking about. Jude and his friends—Matt and César, also sophomores, or Russell, a freshman who joined their group a few months ago.
“Seriously?” says another female voice. Katie? “That weird role-playing game from the eighties? That those kids play in Stranger Things?”
“That’s the one,” says Janine. “It’s like—really? You don’t have anything better to do with your time?”
I peer through the gap in the rocks to see Janine and Katie just a few feet away from the cliff side, lounging on an assortment of vivid beach towels in bikinis and sunglasses. And … oh. Maya is with them, too. Together, they look like a sunscreen advertisement, and not in a bad way. Maya especially looks like a Hollywood starlet. She’s the sort of girl who could have just stepped out of a makeup commercial. Dark skin warmed by the setting sun, thick black hair left natural and curly, framing her face, and a smattering of freckles that are so stinking charming they could inspire whole sonnets.
Unsurprisingly, Jude isn’t the only guy at school with a schoolboy crush on her.
“Isn’t Demons and Dragons some kind of devil-worship game?” asks Katie.
I roll my eyes, and to Maya’s credit, she slides her sunglasses down her nose and gives Katie a look that suggests she agrees with me on just how unnecessary this comment was. “Dungeons and Dragons,” she says. “And I’m pretty sure that’s a rumor started by the same people who thought Harry Potter was evil.”
And I have to admit, while I often question Jude’s mindless devotion to her, Maya does have her moments.
She nudges her glasses back into place. “Anyway. Lay off. I like Jude.”
My eyes widen. Pause. Rewind. She likes Jude?
Does she mean that she like likes him?
I become giddy. I strain my ears to catch every word they’re saying. If I could go back to Jude with empirical evidence that his feelings aren’t unrequited after all, I would be a shoo-in for the Best Sister of the Year Award.
“Of course you like him,” says Janine. “Who doesn’t? He’s so nice.”
“So nice,” Katie agrees emphatically. So emphatic it almost sounds like an insult.
“But he’s also…” Janine trails off. It takes her a long moment to find the words to elaborate. “Just, like, so into you. It’s kind of creepy.”
I make a sound of derision. Jude is not creepy!
I duck back behind the rock before they look back and see me, but their conversation doesn’t falter.
“He does sort of stare at me sometimes,” Maya concedes. “I used to think it was flattering, but … I don’t know. I don’t want to be mean, but you’d think he’d get the hint that I’m not interested, right?”
I flinch.
So much for that plan.
“It does come off as sort of obsessive,” adds Katie. “But in a sweet way?”
I peer through the rocks again, scowling. Jude is not obsessed!
At least, not that obsessed.
He just has a crush on her. It’s not a crime! She should be over the moon to have caught the attention of someone as kind and wonderful as Jude!
“Again, I like Jude,” says Maya. “But it makes me feel a little guilty, to know how he feels when … well, it’s just never going to happen.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about!” says Janine. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, I know. I guess it isn’t my fault I’m not interested in him.”
Katie shushes her suddenly, but it’s with an almost-cruel giggle. “Shh, Maya, god. He’s right over there. He’ll hear you.”
“Oh!” says Maya, clapping a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t know.”
But Janine just nudges her with an elbow. “Oh well. Maybe he’ll take the hint.”
I glance around and spot Jude walking past. I barely catch a glimpse of his expression as he turns away to head back toward our spot on the beach, and I can’t tell whether he’s heard them or not. I can’t tell if the darkness crossing his face is