Chapter Thirty-One

We spend the afternoon amid the rustling trees and drying grass, laughing and chatting and choosing apples. We reminisce about our middle school days. We make a game of trying to remember the silliest moments, like that time Dave Renner stole some chemicals from the lab and accidentally burned part of his shoe off, or when one of our science teachers accidentally said “orgasm” instead of “organism” and it became a scandal for, like, a week. In between remembering mortifying moments we wish we could forget and picking fruit, I mentally make a list of firsts for Isaiah Ortiz and his inaugural apple orchard outing.

Isaiah Ortiz’s Afternoon of Firsts

1. Visited an apple orchard.

2. Took a hayride.

3. Tried La Manzana, Tío Sebbie’s special hot apple cider drink topped with a cinnamon sugar apple donut, and practically saw God.

4. Rea lized the hard way that wearing nice sneakers to stomp around an orchard is a terrible idea, slipping on a patch of mushy apples and nearly taking himself out.

5. Made me realize I am hopelessly, helplessly in over my head with this crush.

Sigh.

If you had told me a few weeks ago that I’d be spending a Sunday with Isaiah Ortiz, my ex– middle school boyfriend who I loved to hate, doing one of my favorite activities and actually enjoying myself, I’d probably have told you that you’d obviously lost your mind.

Because in no universe would I willingly give up my time to spend time with that heathen. I certainly would not be doing my best to catch his eye, or accidentally- on-pur pose brush against his shoulder, or make him laugh in that dulcet way he does— all while secretly watering the seeds of affection blooming in my chest.

As the sky dims and we get back in the car, heading toward my house, I find myself wanting to extend the fun. I could ask him to stay for dinner?

Orrr I could let today be what it was and move on. He has a girlfriend, I remind myself.

I try to push away the thought as Isaiah eases the car in front of my house and parks, leaving the car idling.

“Well, thank you so much for today,” I say, reaching for my satchel of apples. I look over at him. “We did good.”

Isaiah grins at me— easy, open, inv iting— and a ll the thoughts I had about having a girlfriend and not extending the night seem to dissolve. “We did do good,” he agrees. “And now you have to admit that I was right.”

I cross my arms, eyeing him. “About what, exactly?”

“I told you when this started that it would be fun if we could just figure out how to work together. You only needed to trust me.” He points a finger my way. “Admit it! You had fun with me today.”

That elicits a dramatic eye roll from me, but I can’t suppress a smile. “I’d rather die, thanks.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Wow, she lies— and right to my face? I’m hurt.”

I sigh. “Okay, fine.” Then, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I add, “I had fun when you slipped on those rotten apples and fell.”

Isaiah leans back in his seat so hard the car rattles. “Yoooo, you said you were never going to mention that again!”

“I said I wouldn’t mention it to anyone else! It’s fair game between you and me,” I insist. “And yes, there was great satisfaction in watching your life flash before your eyes.”

He narrows his gaze. “You’re cold, Whit.”

“Solid ice.”

Isaiah laughs, his hands resting in his lap. “Well, I had fun, at least. Not that part. But the rest of it was nice.”

“I’m happy for you,” I tease. I should use this as my chance to say goodbye. Grab my bag and thank him and move on. Instead, I hear myself asking, “Hey, do you, um, want to come inside?”

I watch as Isaiah cuts his gaze to my house and then back to me, a question in his dark eyes. “Oh! Uhh h—”

“To have dinner with my family,” I add quickly.

He breathes a laugh, and for a moment, I wonder what he was thinking, but then he smiles and surprises me by saying yes. Yes. He said yes. And now we’re going to spend the evening together.

In an instant, I’m leading the way up my familiar front walk to the Rivera house. Home.

Isaiah follows me as I cross the porch, unlock the tea l- colored front door, and step over the threshold into the house. The smell of mofongo, one of Abuela’s specialties, greets us, and Isaiah takes in a deep breath.

“Shit, that smells good,” he murmurs.

“Aren’t you glad I invited you for dinner? You’re welcome,” I tease. “You can take your shoes off here. Just watch for Patch. He likes to try and make a run for it.” I point to a mat near the entryway, bending to unlace my boots.

“Patch?”

“Our cat!”

He snaps his fingers. “Oh, right!”

“Yeah, he’s lazy, but sometimes he tries to sneak outside. He’s done it before, and he figured out if he pretends he’s a stray, he can get free food from the neighbors.”

“Impressive little dude,” Isaiah says, kicking off his sneakers. “Right?” Then I call, “Abuela! I’m home! And I brought apples!”

“In here, mija!” she calls back to me. “How did everything go?”

I lead Isaiah to the kitchen and step inside. “Good. Isaiah’s actually going to join us for dinner, if that’s all right?” I probably should have called and asked first, so I lift my brows up in apology, hoping Abuela will let it slide.

Her face brightens when her gaze lands on Isaiah. “Of course, of course! Hola, Isaiah.” She wipes her hands on a dish towel and pulls him into a hug.

“Nice to see you again, Abuela.”

“It’s been so long, no?”

Isaiah chuckles. “It’s been a minute, that’s for sure. But you look exactly the same as when I last saw you!”

Abuela’s cheeks go pink and she swats at him with her dish towel. “Noooo,” she insists. “Mira, dinner’s almost ready, okay? Can you set the table? And get your sister to help.”

“Of course, Abuela.”

I lean over and kiss her cheek. She holds me there for a moment and whispers, “¡Que guapo!”

“Abuela,” I hiss, worried she’s said it loud enough for Isaiah to hear. But thankfully Isaiah’s expression doesn’t change, so I assume we’re good. I pull back from her and nod toward the hallway, saying, “Lily’s room is this way.”

We hear the Intonation song well before we get to Lily’s room, the sounds escaping from beneath her door.

“Her favorite band,” I explain.

He smirks. “Don’t play. I know they’re yours, too.”

“Oh, whatever.” I knock on Lily’s door, loudly, knowing she won’t hear me otherwise. When she doesn’t call back to me, I knock again. “Lily! I need you to help me set the table.”

“I’m busy!” she calls.

“Abuela wants you to help, please.”

Her door whips open and Lily stands in front of us wearing a curly brown wig tucked under a ball cap and a drawn- on beard and sideburns.

The laugh that erupts from my throat is loud and unexpected, but so is her whole look!

“I’m making a TikTok,” Lily deadpans.

“Dressed as Lucas?!” I giggle.

She gives me a look like I’m an idiot. “Obviously.”

“Well, can you take a break and come help set the table? We have a guest.” I motion toward Isaiah.

“Great, then maybe he can help you.” She smiles at me.

“Lily!” I don’t mean to whine, but I definitely am.

“You like Intonation?” Isaiah asks her.

She arches an eyebrow at him. “Do you?”

“Of course I do. Number one bestselling boy band in the US.” He grins at me.

“Whit loves Intonation, too. She’s basically obsessed,” Lily says. Isaiah looks far too amused by this. “I knew it!”

“I’m not obsessed,” I insist. “I mean, maybe I was, but—”

Lily cuts in. “She loves Rider. She used to kiss his poster on her wall all the time.”

“Lily!” I say again, louder this time, my eyes going big. Isaiah is laughing now, and can I blame him?! My little sister just told him that I used to kiss a poster on my wall! Which is not not true, but oh my God. “I didn’t!”

“Yeah, you did.” Lily shrugs. “Anyway, can I finish this?”

“You need someone to hold your phone while you make your TikTok? You can tell me more about how Whit’s obsessed with Rider.”

My jaw drops. “Now who’s ice- cold?”

“Actually, Isaiah, that would be great,” Lily says, opening her door wider to let him in. He steps inside, grinning at me, a playful twinkle in his eye. To me, she says, “I’m almost done, okay?”

“We won’t be long,” he promises. “Just long enough for me to get more blackmail material.”

I scowl at both of them. “You’re the worst. Hurry up and film your TikTok and then dinner’s ready.”

“Kbye.” And Lily shuts the door in my face.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re all seated at the table watching Lily’s TikTok, which Isaiah ended up weaseling his way into. We’re laughing so hard we’re crying. Then we feast on Abuela’s mofongo and tell her about all the progress we made for the Fall Fest, and, having a fresh set of ears to listen to her love story, Abuela regales Isaiah with the tale of how she and Abuelo met and fell in love there. Soon Lily’s excusing herself for her virtual date with Ruby in Animal Crossing, and then Titi Luisa calls to gossip with Abuela— and it’s just me and Isaiah left to clean up after dinner.

“I’ll take care of all of this,” I say, rising from my seat and starting to pack away the leftover mofongo.

Isaiah stands, too, and reaches for our cleared plates. “No way. If Mami found out I went to someone’s house and didn’t help with the dishes, she’d smack me upside the head.”

That makes me grin. “I like your mami.”

“You would,” he teases. “Now, about this Rider guy . . .”

I groan. “I’m going to kill Lily!”

“I’m just saying, it’s very interesting that the bad boy had you so sprung.” He scrapes bits of food into the trash, clearing off the plates. “I’d have pictured you liking the squeaky- clea n one. Maybe the artistic one.”

“How do you even know this much about Intonation?” I ask, loading up two sets of Tupperware with the leftovers.

“I have sisters. I know things.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “So, you didn’t read my notebook where I rank the members in order of how hot they are?”

“You really made a list?!” Isaiah asks in disbelief.

“No!” I laugh. “But now I know you didn’t peek inside it.”

“I would never,” he promises, chuckling. “I guessed you liked Rider. He is the cutest, after all.”

“Totally is. Rider just always seemed really sweet. I felt for him, being the token brown boy in the band, you know?” I shrug. “Plus, he’s hot.”

“There it is.” Isaiah grins. “Now we know why you kissed his poster so much.”

“Ugh. You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“We could call a truce, you know. No more mentions of me busting my ass at the apple orchard for no more mentions of your epic makeout sessions with a poster?”

“Easiest truce ever,” I say with a laugh.

We fall into an easy rhythm. I tell him about the apple pastelillos Abuela and I will likely make with our share of the fruit. He fills me in on his work as a tutor. He helps middle- school-aged kids in the town over from ours, and my heart swells as I imagine those kids having someone like Isaiah to look up to.

I bet he’s so good with them, the way he was with Lily tonight. He swooped right in and won her over. It takes someone pretty special to be able to make connections that fast.

I think this as we’re saying goodbye and I’m loading him up with Tupperware and practically rushing him out the door because this night has been one of my favorites in recent memories, and it can’t mean a thing.

So it won’t.