SUMMER 

My thumb has been hovering over my phone screen for minutes now, my sister's name staring from the other side. It's Monday afternoon and I'm sitting in Craves & Coffee. I came here to avoid going back to the house. Mrs. Villa has stopped with the passive aggressive notes, but I'd still rather not be there. Doesn't matter how much heating is on, she gives the house a chill that no thermostat can take away.

Thankfully, it's almost time to head over to Lola's. We were told about our first test today, so she invited me and Fawn over for a study date. I've been working in my baking sketchbook to kill time. Two lattes and a blueberry muffin later, I stopped. I'd been drawing the first butterfly on a three-layered cake. It reminded me of Ella out of nowhere, when we'd play in the rooftop garden at home as kids, trying to make butterflies land on our fingers like Disney princesses.

I can't bring myself to text her. All my other attempts have been futile, so what's the use? But I have so much to tell her.

I want to tell her about culinary school, about living with the Villas and how strange of a change it's been. I want to tell her how we had our first patisserie class with Chef Ross today, and it was the most excited I've been about cooking since I got here. How we made puff pastry from scratch, and how I can't wait for tomorrow when we'll be making the custard pastry cream to combine it all into slices of mille-feuille.

I want to tell her about Ashton and the mixed feelings around him, ask her if he's a walking red flag or not. I want to tell her how the way he kissed me keeps me up at night. And how boring I've always thought brown eyes are, but now I think they might be my favorite.

I wish I could tell her everything like I used to.

My thumb moves to lock my phone instead, clunking it back on the table. Nothing is the way it used to be. She doesn't want to hear anything from me anymore.

I return to sketching with a heavy heart, sloppily rushing the butterfly so I can move on.

"Hey Summer, cool if I sit?" I look up and meet Charlie's vivid eyes. She helps herself to the seat opposite me before I have time to answer. "I just saw you here and thought I'd ask about my party."

"Your party?" I shut my book and scrape aside the plate of muffin crumbs. "Oh yeah, I think I heard Steven and Grant talking about it."

"So you're coming? I invited everyone from class."

I shift in my seat. I've barely spoken to Charlie before now, but her easygoing demeanor would make any onlooking stranger think I'm having coffee with a close friend. It's a little unnerving.

"I'm not sure if I can."

She heaves out a long breath, tucking her hair behind her ear and revealing the silver piercings that line the curve. They match the stud in her pointed nose. "Let me guess... because of Ashton."

"What? No." I feel my brows dip. "Because I live with a witch of a woman and she might not let me. Why would Ashton stop me from going?"

"The bickering you guys seem to be locked in everyday, it's hard not to notice. I guess I thought you might wanna avoid being around him outside of class. Although..." Her black nails that have been rhythmically tapping on the table stop, a sly smile pulling at her lips. "Maybe all that bickering is actually just foreplay."

My gaze drops to my book, a tense laugh escaping me. "Foreplay implies that the next step is—"

"Screwing."

I can't help smiling at her brazenness. "Right, and trust me, that's never going to happen."

"You don't want it to?"

"I can't stand him, so no," I say, wondering if I'm trying to convince Charlie or myself here.

"Hate-sex can be pretty great." She shrugs an ivory shoulder. "But I can't say you're missing out on much. Ashton's not exactly a master in the bedroom department, you know?"

I swallow. "You've been with him?"

"Oh sure. Casually," she clarifies. "Just friends falling into a lowkey fling out of boredom, really."

I never realized they were that close, but the concerned look she had when he showed up in class after his fight should have been a dead giveaway. I suppose I was right about her being his type of girl.

"A fling... so it's over?"

"Yeah, done and dusted. It's funny..." Charlie lightly laughs to herself. "I watched him pull his move on so many girls over the years, and I still ended up being a sucker just like them."

I know I'm prying, but getting insight from someone who's actually been with Ashton is an opportunity I can't pass up. "What move does he even have? Being a good-looking tool?"

Charlie bites her lip, scooting her chair in. "Exactly. That's exactly his move. Being a tool, reeling girls in with the looks and attitude. But really, the whole confident, big dick energy thing he has going? It's 'cause he's overcompensating. I found that out once he got me on the hook." She points down and then wiggles her pinkie finger. "The boy is gifted in many areas, but that is not one of them."

Oh.

How am I meant to respond to that? "Uh, that's... good to know, I guess."

"Shit, sorry. Typical me oversharing. He'd crucify me if he knew I told you that." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Actually, no. Whatever. Considering the stuff he says about you, oversharing is warranted."

"What has he said about me?"

"Probably nothing you haven't already heard from him yourself. I mean, with the way you guys call each other out and all."

"Right, yeah."

"But for the record, I don't think you're shallow. Or stuck-up, or a pain in the ass. No one in class thinks that except Ashton, so don't listen to him. You know what he's like."

My bones turn to lead, and an unwelcome image of Ashton badmouthing me to our class pushes through my mind. She's right; I've heard it from him before, but knowing that he's repeated those petty insults somehow makes it feel far more personal. Like they weren't in the heat of the moment and he truly does think that little of me.

I really am just a shallow, stuck-up pain in the ass to him.

❖❖❖

Walking into Lola's house is like being enveloped by a warm hug. Even though I've been here once before to help with her sister's bake sale, I take a moment to appreciate the feeling I've missed since I left Philadelphia—at home. Small but open, clutter on the counters, family photos, worn out furniture, colorful fruit magnets on the fridge. Everything about it is cozy. Lived in.

Fawn darts passed me and greets Teddy, the sprightly cockapoo pup trotting over to us.

"No jumping, Teddy!" Lola gives a clap as I join Fawn in cooing over his ridiculously soft ears.

"So. Fluffy."

"Yeah, he really is Ava's fluffy little teddy bear come to life. At least that's what she thought when she was five."

I laugh and dodge a face lick. "Where is Ava? And your mom?"

"My mom's still at work, and Ava's down the street at her friend's house. They wanted to play here, but I bribed them with Oreos so we'd have some peace to study."

❖❖❖

I've always studied better in a group. Talking it out, comparing notes, testing each other. I'm way more productive this way. I get in my head too much when I study alone, something that happened a lot in high school. My friends weren't as concerned about getting good grades, everything was about parties, cheerleading, boys. Surface level things that had little impact on their futures.

I leaned into those things too, convinced myself that the boulders of pressure my father had me under would lift if I made frivolous fun my priority. Of course, no amount of fun can erase such high expectations.

I'd end up overdoing it and putting too much pressure on myself to go against my dad. Stay out too late, cram for a test through sleep deprivation, forget to eat, push myself in cheerleading, collapse from exhaustion, eat too much. It was all a vicious cycle, and it festered inside for years.

None of my friends were interested in anything real like that, they just wanted Happy Summer walking next to them. Fun Summer. Popular Summer. Struggling Summer? Don't even think about it. Art became an outlet for the pressure, eventually transitioning into baking, and Ella became the only person I let see the struggling version of myself for a long time. Late night conversations in a moonlit kitchen, taste testing my latest culinary confections. In a way, she was the one true friend I had in school.

"Ohhh my god. Am I crazy or is there way more to study than they implied?" Lola asks. She's been laying papers and books around her on the floor like a deck of cards, an overwhelming ring enclosing her in the middle. "I mean, it doesn't feel like we've covered this much yet."

Fawn groans from the desk, ripping open a bag of barbeque chips. "Can't even imagine how much there's going to be for the final exams."

Chef Kent told us that this first theory test was to get a feel for how we're doing so far. That it wasn't a big deal if we don't ace it, but if I don't ace it then my dad will latch onto the result and use it to prove a point about me not belonging here.

"The French terminology is killing me," I admit, turning yet another page of translations. "And I don't even want to think about the accounting stuff. Really, whose idea was it to involve math with cooking?"

"Math somehow finds its way into everything." Lola smiles. "It might be my favorite part. Aside from the actual cooking."

"You like math?"

"Sure, what's not to like?"

"Um... everything?"

She laughs at my puzzled face. "I dunno, I've always loved it. Solving problems is fun. I actually wanted to study something more in that field. It was between that and culinary school, but my mom sort of decided for me."

"But if you love both, shouldn't you have gotten to choose?"

Her lips purse. "It's kinda complicated. When I was looking at colleges to apply to, I was really leaning towards NYU. I'd talk about it all the time and tell my mom about the courses, then suddenly there's Clocul pamphlets being left in my room and she's booking me a campus tour and saying how amazing it'll be to have a chef in the family."

"So she didn't ask you what you preferred?"

Lola shakes her head. "My mom's never been great with talking openly, but I know it's more about her not wanting me to leave Cloverbrook. She's a nurse, the hours are long, so after my older sister graduated and moved, there was a lot more for me to take on with Ava. I figured my mom was too proud to ask for help, so I just dropped the idea of NYU."

I met her mom the last time I was here, and she was incredibly warm and welcoming, but it sounds like she basically guilted her into staying. Lola's one hell of a good daughter to let go of her first-choice college so she can help with Ava.

"I take it your dad's not in the picture then, huh?"

"Divorced." She fans out a stack of recipes. "Got a new family in Sacramento and everything. I see him for a couple weeks over the summer, that's about it."

"Shit, that sucks," Fawn blurts through a mouthful of chips. "... sorry."

Lola chuckles as she pulls her hair into a messy bun. "It's whatever. Life goes on, you know?"

She has a great attitude about it. My relationship with my dad may be rocky, but at least my parents are still happily married.

I shove the French notes away when I realize my left leg has fallen asleep. Sliding off the bed to stretch while Lola and Fawn chat, I look over the medals and trophies on display next to the window. Mathletes, science fairs, debate team. So many wins. My eyes skip to the purple pinboard holding dozens of photos. I pause when I reach the one of her and a group of friends smiling in marching band uniforms.

Truth is, Lola and I never would have been friends in school, and it makes me kind of sad. I don't know her very well yet, but I already feel more like myself when we hang out compared to the superficial act I had with my friends back home. How many girls did I overlook in school because they weren't in my clique? How many genuine friendships did I miss out on?

My gaze lands on a freshman class photo and I do a double-take, leaning in to get a better look. Ashton. Four class photos in a row, freshman to senior year, and Ashton is in each of them. His place changes every year, but he's always in the back row with the taller kids, grinning from ear to ear.

It's bizarre seeing him as a young freshman, his lanky body still in the process of filling out and becoming the well-built slab it is now. But what strikes me most is his hair. It's drastically different in every photo. A dark brunette mop as a freshman, shaved into a buzz cut as a sophomore, short and bleached as a junior, settling on ashy-black waves as a senior.

"Who you looking at?"

I spring away from the photos and find Lola next to me. "What? Nothing. I mean, no one."

A smug smile tugs at her rosy lips. "He likes you, you know."

"Who?"

"You know who."

"Voldemort?" Fawn cuts in.

"Yes, Fawn. Voldemort likes Summer. Didn't you hear? He asked her to the Yule Ball and everything."

Fawn rolls her eyes and throws a pen at her. I seize the distraction, edging away to sit on the bed again.

"Ashton, obviously." Lola tosses the pen back. "He's got it bad."

"He doesn't," I say shortly, Charlie's words swimming to the surface. "He's made it abundantly clear what he thinks of me."

"Please, he's like a typical kindergartener who doesn't know how to express his feelings, so he goes around pulling on girls' ponytails," Fawn says. "Except you're the only girl he's chasing on the playground."

I scan a page of French words without taking anything in. "Even if that's true, it's only a matter of time until he gets bored and chases someone else."

"Doubt it."

"Yeah? How many girls did he date in high school, huh?"

Lola shrugs. "None."

"What?"

"Well, he, uh..." Her voice shrinks under my unblinking stare. "He didn't really stay with anyone long enough for it to be considered dating."

I let out a single dry laugh and focus on the book again.

"But I still think it's different with you," Lola urges. "It was all smooth with those girls, no conflict. Just talking them up and—"

My book snaps shut. "Ashton kissed me!"

Silence overtakes the room, my declaration hanging in the air before Fawn's chip bag crinkles back to life. "He did?"

"Ha! I knew it!" Lola exclaims. "Not specifically that, but I knew there was something happening between the lines!"

I run my fingers through my hair as they bombard me with questions.

"Guys, you don't get it. It's not a good thing."

"What, like, he wasn't a good kisser?"

"No, not that. The kiss was... really good, but he didn't do it because he liked me. He did it to win the contest."

I explain what happened, watching their elated faces grow into frowns.

"This whole thing with Ashton, the fights, the chemistry I felt underneath it all... he felt it too, and he chose to use it against me. I've been on the fence about him since the contest. He's so hot and cold that I didn't know if it was worth getting more involved. But it's not. There's truth in those stupid arguments we have, and the truth is he doesn't actually like who I am, and I don't think I like who he is either."

"Summer, maybe you should just talk to him. See where he stands and—"

"Why? So he can flirt with me and then run to his friends to tell them how shallow I am?"

Lola and Fawn give each other a helpless look. I don't need to get their advice on this, or Ella's. I needed to see the sobering reality myself, something which Charlie out of all people helped shed light on.

"The fact is, no matter how amazing that kiss was and what I thought might've been there, he manipulated me because it's fun for him. Because I'm a game that's a little more challenging than usual. And I'm not falling for it. I've made mistakes with guys before and I don't want to make another one."

The next five words that leave my mouth hurt, but I need to hear them out loud for it to truly sink in.

"I'm done with Ashton Banks."

A/N: thanks for reading! remember to leave a vote before you go :)