Jensen groans when headlights shine into the big window in our living room. He holds up his hand to block the light and then turns to me with a pout. “Are they back?”

“Looks like it,” I say. The headlights turn off as they park.

“No! I was having fun with just us!” Jensen whines.

It makes me smile, despite how terrible I’ve felt since earlier today when Max’s girlfriend yelled at me through text messages. “Why do you like when it’s just us?” I ask him.

“You’re more fun than mommy and daddy!” he says with a big grin.

I pull him into a hug. “Thanks, buddy.”

I wish I was still a little kid who only cared about playing with toys and staying up past my bedtime. Growing up sucks. Thinking you’ve met someone awesome only to discover that they’re a lying jerk with a girlfriend is not my idea of fun.

When my parents come inside, they are bursting with happiness and good vibes, or whatever it is they teach you at marriage retreats. They look like they’ve just become millionaires or something.

“How’d it go?” I ask as I get squeezed into a hug by Mom, followed by another one from Dad.

“It was wonderful,” Mom says, eyes bright and enthusiastic. “But we missed you both!”

“How about some dinner?” Dad says as he scoops up Jensen into a big bear hug.

“We kind of ate all of the frozen pizzas,” I say.

“You ate four frozen pizzas in two days?” Mom says with a laugh.

I shrug. “Yep.”

Dad laughs. “I hope you’re still hungry, because I was thinking of going to Sam’s Boat!”

“Yay!” Jensen bellows.

Despite the name, Sam’s Boat is a restaurant, not a boat. It’s not even shaped like a boat, which is the ironic thing. But it is on the water, and you can eat at a table on the boardwalk that overlooks the lake. It’s Jensen’s favorite restaurant because of the location, but the rest of us love it because the food is amazing. It’s also expensive, which means my parents are in a really good mood tonight. We usually only go there twice a year for birthdays or special occasions.

“I’ll go get dressed,” I say. The excitement of the last few minutes manages to make me totally forget about Max. But then five minutes later, it all comes back to me, making my heart ache in this pathetic way. I mean, I didn’t even know the guy in person. Why is my heart physically aching?

I sigh as I open my closet door and look for something to wear. I have to do my best to get over this. Move on. Think of other things.

He was just a stupid guy. A stupid anonymous guy.

He was also someone I talked to for two days straight. Someone I felt I connected with on so many levels. He wasn’t like any other guy I’ve ever talked to.

Not anymore, Jess. I take a deep breath and tell myself to stop thinking about Max. It’s over.

At the restaurant, my parents sit next to each other and Jensen and I sit opposite of them at our table on the boardwalk. They keep making these lovey-dovey eyes at each other and it’s so gross.

I mean, normally I’m pretty happy to have parents who still love each other after twenty years of marriage. So many of my friends don’t have that luxury and are forced into custody battles and yelling matches when their parents see each other. I don’t have that and I should be grateful, but for right now, I hate love.

I hate boys. I hate dating. I hate thinking about anything like that.

So when my dad puts his hand on top of Mom’s hand and smiles at her and they get lost in each other’s eyes, I almost throw up.

“Jensen, let’s look for birds,” I say, turning toward the water to our right.

There are no birds out here, but I look for them anyway.

Finally, the waitress brings our food and my parents are forced to stop flirting with each other to eat their meal. Thank God. We talk about Jensen’s Lego creations and school and frozen pizzas. I try to talk as much as possible, because when I’m in conversation about stupid things, I’m not thinking of Max.

It’s all going pretty well, and I can even feel my chest getting a little lighter. A little less painful. I tell myself he was a nobody. I don’t even know what he looks like, so it’s like he doesn’t even exist. That helps me start to get over him, I think.

My parents are so happy they tell us to order dessert, which my brother totally loves. I get an ice cream sundae. I’m about to take my first bite when my phone starts ringing.

“Sorry!” I tell my parents, who have this rule where we have to turn off the volume on our phones during family meal times. But I hadn’t even thought to do that to my phone because Abigail only Snaps me and that sound is so quiet no one would hear it anyway.

“It’s probably a wrong number,” I say, reaching into my purse.

At first, I think that’s what it is—some random telemarketer or something. But then I recognize the numbers on the screen.

They’re the same numbers scrawled on that piece of paper from the dog park.

Max.

“You okay?” Mom says, her brows pulling together in concern. “You look sick.”

“Yeah,” I say, shoving my phone back in my purse. “I think maybe I ate too much.”

“That’s too bad,” Dad says.

“Can I have your ice cream?” Jensen asks. I laugh, but it doesn’t take away the pounding of my heart.

“Sure,” I say, sliding it over to him.

A few seconds later, my phone vibrates, and I sneak a glance at the screen while my parents aren’t looking. I have a new voice mail message from Max.

Or maybe it’s from his girlfriend.

All I know is that I’m terrified to check it.