Chapter Twenty

In a daze, I get ready for my shift at Nature’s Grocer, tying my wild curls back into a thick ponytail just to keep them out of my face so I can settle in for a long day of scanning, bagging, and chirping Far m-fre sh food for a hap py-fre sh you!

I’m trying to focus on work— I rea lly am— but I c an’t stop thinking about the coffee and the binder and Isaiah freaking Ortiz. As I was saying: How. Dare. He!

Yet, in between the beeping as I ring up each item and the cheerful smiles I give to each new customer, I find myself dreamily crafting a new list to add to my notebook.

Things I Like about Isaiah Ortiz

1. His smile.

2. His laugh.

3. The way he makes me crack when I don’t want to.

4. How i nfuriatingly frustrating he is.

5. His easygoing nature, of which I’m eternally jealous.

6. He’s hot.

7. And cute. At the same time, somehow?

8. The way he smells.

9. How familiar being around him feels.

10. THE H ALLOWEEN PARTY? HELLO?!?!?!

11. Those lips!

12. The special delivery of COFFEE TO MY DOORSTEP.

13. His natural gift for planning.

14. His dedication to the Fall Fest.

15. THE F REAKING BINDER.

Ugh, Whit, what are you doing?! Quick— make a list of the reasons not to like him.

“Excuse me, miss, but you seem to be in a daze. Can I please speak to your manager?” A voice breaks me from these thoughts. I look up to see it’s actually Marisol standing there with Sophie, both of them giggling.

I break into a grin. “What are you guys doing here?!”

“Buying some caviar, of course, like everyone else here,” Sophie teases.

Marisol shakes her head. “Seriously, this place is bougie.” She lowers her voice and leans in. “I was worried we might be followed around or something.”

“You’re good,” I say. “This place is going for, like, rich-hippiechic rather than WASP-y-racial-profiling. At least I think. I’ve only been here a week.”

Marisol leans over to tuck away a curl that has come loose from my ponytail. “Well, you’re killin’ it.”

“And you look so cute in your little visor!” Sophie gushes. I pretend to tip it to her, then glance back to see that there are two other customers behind my friends in line. “Can I ring you out?”

“Oh, yes!” Sophie pulls some bakery items from the wire basket at her side and puts them on the belt.

“These look yummy.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be the most expensive donuts this girl’s ever going to eat,” Marisol says. “And we obviously didn’t just come here for those. We wanted to see if you could hang out in a bit? Maybe fill us in on how things went at Isaiah’s?” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I frown. “I wish I could, but I’m actually here all day. Then I have my English paper to work on.”

“All day?” Sophie asks. “Jeez! Is that legal?”

“Unfortunately, yes. That’ll be seventeen dollars and eig htyfou r cents, by the way.”

Sophie taps her credit card against the machine to pay, seemingly accepting my response. But Marisol isn’t having it. “How about after you finish your English paper?” she asks. “We’re all going to the movies. It’ll be fun!”

“All?” I ask.

“Yeah, me, Noah, Sol, and Ari,” Sophie explains. “I’ll buy you some jelly beans!”

I’ll admit that being the fifth wheel isn’t ideal, but I don’t want my friends to feel like I’m blowing them off. Without Aiden, this is just my reality now. Sometimes I’m going to be the Single Friend. And I like Noah and Ari, so how bad can it be, right?

“Okay,” I say finally. “I’m in.”

Sophie claps her hands together. “Yay! We’ll text you details.”

“Oh! That reminds me. Does either of you know someone at school named Destiny?”

Sophie shakes her head, but Marisol pauses to think. “Hmm, I feel like she might be friends with some of Ari’s friends. Hang on.”

I can see the customers in line starting to get impatient, and one even sighs. The last thing I need to do is get in trouble as the newbie for talking to my friends for too long— friends who, by the way, I wasn’t even supposed to technically check out because of conflict of interest and all but t his is important.

Marisol turns her phone to me, showing me an Instagram profile. “Destiny Wright?”

“Yes! Text that to me, please, please, please,” I beg.

“Already done.” She points a manicured nail my way. “But you know you don’t get to ask a shady question like that and not offer an explanation. Fill us in later?”

“Done,” I say. Catching sight of my manager, Pamela, nearing the register, I add, “Thanks for shopping at Nature’s Grocer— far m-fresh food for a happy-fresh you!”

Sophie sees Pamela arriving, too, and winks at me. “Wow! Thank you so much. You might be the most personal and efficient cashier I’ve ever had. I don’t know who you are, but you deserve a raise!”

“Couldn’t agree more!” Marisol chimes in, putting on a British accent. “Above and beyond, really. Above and beyond!”

I apologize for the wait on my line and do my best to ring up the next few customers as quickly as I can. The millisecond Pamela dismisses me for a lunch break, I book it to the back room, where I pull up the link from Marisol and use it to scroll Destiny’s account.

Based on her profile pic, I feel like I may have seen her when I met some of Ari’s friends awhile back. Her bio lists her as an artist, aspiring fashion designer, and Aquarius. I wrinkle my nose. Aquarius? Well, no wonder she and Isa iah—who’s a Cancer, if my memory serves correctly— did n’t work out. Aquarius- Cancer pairings have disaster written all over it.

From Destiny’s most recent photos, she could easily be mistaken for Zendaya’s little sister: slim but curvy, long microbraids, light skin, high cheekbones, and a killer sense of style. It’s no wonder she’s an aspiring fashion designer. She’s also gorgeous, and if she weren’t Isaiah’s ex, I might have myself a new crush.

I know I’ve probably done enough snooping for one day, but I can’t help myself and keep scrolling. Whether it’s because I want to admire more photos of her or because I’m just nosy, I can’t say for sure.

Suddenly, my stomach drops. In the second row of photos is a picture of her leaning on Isaiah’s shoulder while he stands on his board. It looks like they’re at a skate park somewhere. His face is scrunched up in a goofy grin, while she’s sticking out her tongue at the camera. I check when it was posted. Six days ago.

Things I DON’T Like about Isaiah Ortiz

1. In the sixth grade, he asked me to the movies and then ceeded to stand me up and GHOST me, and that sucks,

2. s absolutely, 100%, without a doubt still into Destiny

I regret saying yes to this movie date the second I slide into Marisol’s Escalade and I’m stuck in the backseat listening to Sophie and Noah whisper sweet nothings. I start to keep count of how often Noah says babe in a sentence, and I’m pretty sure it’s in the dozens by the time the twenty-minute car ride is through.

From the front seat, Marisol and Ari are practically speaking in some kind of secret language. When I innocently mention how weird I think the Dunkin’ billboard we pass is— it features a freaking shark— that sends them into a conversation all their own.

Marisol suddenly shouts, “There’s a shark in the water!”

And Ari dons an Australian accent. “It encircles its prey!”

They both burst into laughter.

At the movie theater, my friends talk of splitting this and that with their partner, and I’m stuck ordering a kiddie-size popcorn and drink just for one, which practically screams: HELLO I AM SINGLE.

At least Sophie keeps her promise of getting me jelly beans.

But then when we go to choose our seats, Marisol and Ari want to grab something in the front, while I prefer the middle, and Sophie and Noah want the back (no doubt so they can make out).

We split up. I sit alone. And I vow never to agree to be the fifth wheel for a movie date again.