Saturday, July 2

PARIS

Come on, Aubrey! Keep up!”

Clara stood as she pedaled, her bright-red ponytail snapping against her back. Jonah was right behind her, and Gabe and Rae were behind him, cycling next to each other. Gabe said something and she laughed, wobbling on her bike. Aubrey squinted and bent her elbows, begging her legs to work harder. Her head throbbed as sunlight reflected off the passing cars. She swore that the smell of champagne was everywhere.

“How are you doing back there?” Rae called.

“How are you not hungover?” Aubrey called back.

“I can’t hear you.” Rae dropped back to wait for her. “Jesus. Are you dead?”

“Getting there,” Aubrey muttered.

Rae, of course, looked great. She was wearing cute cutoff overalls, and her long curls had been wrangled into two braids. Early that morning, Clara had woken them all up so they could get coffee and bike to the Centre Pompidou. Aubrey had been shocked that Clara hadn’t seemed even remotely queasy. And that neither Clara nor Rae looked tired.

Aubrey glanced up at the nearest street sign. They were on the rue de Rivoli, moving away from the Centre Pompidou and getting closer to their next stop: the Louvre. Construction cranes loomed in the sky, and the lunch rush-hour traffic clogged up the road. Aubrey winced as cars swerved around them; she hated that the bikes they’d rented hadn’t come with helmets.

“So,” Rae said, “tell me about last night.”

Aubrey squeezed her handlebars. “You were with me last night.”

“Not for all of it. What happened when we left?” Rae’s words were muffled by roaring jackhammers, which gave Aubrey a moment to think. She wanted to tell Rae what Gabe had said, but she couldn’t face it yet. The embarrassment felt too fresh. “Is it TMI if I tell you I puked in a Starbucks bathroom?” she asked.

“Ew,” Rae said. “Yes.”

“Well”—Aubrey felt her sunglasses slip down her nose—“that’s what happened.”

Afterward, Jonah had taken them on the Metro back to the hotel, where they’d hung out in Aubrey’s room and he’d found an old French movie on TV. Aubrey had fallen asleep to the muted, underwater sound that black-and-white movies always seemed to have and whispered conversations in a language she couldn’t understand.

“Sounds romantic,” Rae said.

“Watch it, or I’ll push you off your bike.”

“You can’t even let go of the handlebars!” Rae lifted her own hands and briefly held them overhead. A railing separated this part of the bike path from the rest of the street, but Rae still looked brave. Young and wild and unafraid of anything. She moved her fingers like she was trying to catch the air.

“Please stop,” Aubrey said. “I can think of a thousand ways this could end horribly.”

Rae stopped and grinned with all her teeth.

“Turn left!” Clara called from up ahead. They went through a long, cool archway that led to the place du Carrousel. Aubrey saw everything all at once: the long line of tour buses, the shining glass pyramid, and the Louvre itself, zigzagging around the plaza’s perimeters.

Aubrey’s bike hobbled to a stop.

“Damn,” Jonah said to her. “You don’t look so good.”

“She’s totally great,” Rae said. “I hear near-death experiences make you stronger.”

“Bad news,” Gabe said, holding up his phone. His eyes skimmed straight over Aubrey, and her embarrassment felt new and raw all over again. She picked at her handlebar with her thumbnail. “We can’t park our bikes here,” he said. “We have to go somewhere else and come back.”

“Oh God.” Aubrey collapsed against Jonah. “Why isn’t today over yet?”

Clara shaded her eyes; an image of the pyramid was reflected in her sunglasses. “Aubrey. It hasn’t even begun.”

But, somehow, it did end.

Hours and hours went by, hours they filled wandering the unending corridors of the Louvre and sitting on the Right Bank eating falafel. As soon as the sun set, they returned their bikes and traipsed back to their hotel to change for the night.

Now it was after eleven PM, and the nightclub they were in was crowded. People filled the dance floor—girls wearing skintight jeans and strappy tank tops, guys with their hair gelled up straight. Music played over the speakers, but Aubrey couldn’t tell if the lyrics were in English or French.

She was standing against the back wall, holding a soda, while Rae, Clara, and Gabe danced with everyone else. Jonah had gone outside to answer his phone—probably to reassure his mom that they were all safe and currently sober.

Aubrey sipped her watery soda. She saw Gabe grab Rae’s hands and spin her in a circle. It was strange, because Rae and Gabe had never really hung out without Aubrey before. She’d always considered herself the thing that linked them together, that made them friends in the first place. But maybe that was selfish. Clearly, they got along just fine without her.

“Taking a dance break?” Jonah dodged around two girls bobbing their heads to the electric beat and took his place beside her.

“I got soda.” Aubrey held up her glass. “Was that your mom?”

“Leah.”

“Oh.”

Jonah was wrapped up in the music and everything going on around them, so Aubrey let herself roll her eyes. Of course it was Leah. Getting in the way even when she wasn’t here. Making everything about her.

“She wanted to talk about the apartment,” Jonah said. It was so loud he had to speak next to her ear.

“The apartment?” Aubrey shouted.

“You know. The three-bedroom place her friend rents in Alphabet City? Leah’s moving in next year, and she said she’d put in a good word for us.”

“A good word about what?”

“About us moving in with them.”

For a moment, Aubrey was grateful for the noise. It gave her time to gather her thoughts. For her mind to tick through a series of memories—of the spring when she got accepted to Columbia; of their whole senior year, when she and Jonah would talk about New York. It ticked back to junior year, when she and Jonah would hang out at play rehearsals and Leah would drag him away to tell him some gossipy, pointless secret. He always glowed when Leah paid attention to him. And sometimes, it made Aubrey wonder if he secretly liked Leah more. Which was ridiculous—after all, she was Jonah’s girlfriend—but still. Leah could make her feel so small.

“Let’s get out there.” Jonah laced his fingers with hers. “Or we’ll miss everything.”

A rap song was playing now, one that Rae and Gabe knew all the lyrics to. They blasted through each line while Clara cheered them on. Bodies slammed against Aubrey’s back. She thought about what she would be doing if she were home instead—probably reading a book in bed, or maybe watching The Temple of Doom with Chris, arguing with him over whether or not it was the worst Indiana Jones movie (she was a firm yes; he was a firm Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). She knew she should dance, too, but she didn’t exactly feel like it, so she just nodded her head a lot.

The song ended, and Gabe held up his hand for Rae to high-five.

“Why are you so tall?” she asked, jumping up to meet him.

“Don’t know, Preston,” he said. “Why are you so short?”

Preston, Aubrey thought. Usually he only called her by her last name.

“Does anyone want water?” Clara fanned her face with both hands. That afternoon, after the museum, she’d painted each nail white with a neon-green line down the middle. She turned toward the bar and stopped cold. “Oh my God.” She tugged on the bottom of Rae’s shirt. “That girl is totally checking you out.”

Everyone stared in the direction Clara was looking. “Smooth, guys,” Rae said. “Very subtle.”

“What’s with the haircut, though?” Jonah asked.

“I kind of like it,” Gabe said. “Very young Carrie Brownstein.”

Rae buried her face in her hands. “Jesus Christ, you’re all exactly like my mother.”

Another song started, but none of them were dancing; they were a beat of stillness in a sea of motion. Gabe and Jonah talked over Aubrey’s head. She looked down and saw the pink laces on Gabe’s shoes and the stripes on Jonah’s old sneakers. Their voices collided above her. It was almost like she wasn’t even there.

“I need some air,” she said.

Instantly Rae said, “I’ll come with you.”

And Aubrey felt absurdly relieved. Outside, the night was lukewarm, and she slumped against the beige wall beside the club’s entrance as tiny cars and scooters zipped down the street. The sky was smoggy and dense with clouds.

“That place is so tacky.” Rae dug around in her pocket for a stick of strawberry gum.

Aubrey still had her drink, which she placed on the sidewalk. “Jonah wants to move in with Leah next year,” she said.

Rae stopped digging. “No effing way.”

“Yeah,” Aubrey said. “Or I should say, he wants us to move in with her. They were on the phone tonight, planning it all out.”

“What a control freak!”

“Leah? Or Jonah?”

“Definitely Leah. No offense, but Jonah’s too hapless for that.”

“That’s not offensive.” Aubrey held out her hand, and Rae gave her a stick of gum. They both stood there for a minute, just chewing, waiting for the sugary taste to fade. Aubrey couldn’t imagine going back inside that nightclub. “Gabe doesn’t want to be my friend anymore,” she said.

“What?” Rae asked. “When did that happen?”

“It happened last night. At the Arc de Triomphe. I wanted to tell you about it this morning, but I could barely even think about it. Plus, I was super hungover.”

“So, hold on. Are you upset about Jonah? Or about Gabe?”

“Maybe both.”

“Or maybe you’re just upset because everything’s so different now.”

Aubrey watched someone across the street flick a cigarette butt to the ground. Rae was definitely right—everything was different.

It had been for three weeks. It had been since the last night of the musical, when, in a darkened backstage room, Aubrey and Gabe had kissed. When, just like that, the space between them had evaporated to nothing. His mouth on hers. Her mouth on his. It had lasted only a few seconds, but that didn’t matter. It was still a kiss.

A kiss that Aubrey had spent every day of the past three weeks trying to figure out. She’d sprawled out on the grass in her backyard, going over and over that moment. Like there was some secret meaning to it. Like, if she could just find that meaning, the kiss would suddenly make sense, and she could forget all about it.

She thought over the silly crush she’d had on Gabe freshman year. She remembered the afternoons they’d spent painting sets together and the weekend mornings she’d biked over to his house so they could spend all day sitting on his living room floor, listening to the old, folksy records his dad collected.

But then, during their sophomore year, Gabe stopped inviting her over so much. He’d get this distant look in his eyes and make up excuses whenever she asked if he was free. Eventually, she realized: He must have figured out that she liked him. He must have been trying to tell her he only thought of her as a friend. And by the time Jonah asked her out a few months later, Aubrey only thought of him as one, too.

Or, at least, she thought she did. So why had she kissed him? How had she let all of this happen?

“Okay.” Rae blew a curl out of her eye. “You want me to tell you something you don’t want to hear?”

“No,” Aubrey said. “Of course I don’t.”

“Well. Tough love, baby.” Rae stood in front of her and snapped her gum. Her cheeks were still bright red from dancing. “Maybe this whole thing with Gabe isn’t about him despising you. Maybe it’s—the opposite.”

“The opposite how?” Aubrey asked.

“Aubs, have you ever considered the possibility that Gabe likes you? You know, as more than a friend?”

A motorbike stopped in the street, its engine popping. Frenzied energy built up in Aubrey’s chest. “There’s no way,” she said. “He wouldn’t be treating me like this if he did.”

“Maybe he would. Maybe he didn’t expect to kiss you that night. It’s probably a lot for him to deal with.”

“I know he didn’t expect to kiss me.” Aubrey shook her head. “Because it was a mistake.”

“Look, I know this seriously sucks, but”—Rae blew another bubble—“maybe what you need to do is give him space. Let him work this shit out by himself. If he still doesn’t want to be your friend, forget him.”

Aubrey pressed her hands to the wall—she was surprised by how cool it was. “I can’t forget him,” she said shakily. “I can’t forget any of you.”

Rae didn’t speak for a moment, her expression full of sympathy. “Dude. I never said anything about forgetting me.”

That made Aubrey laugh, and the panic inside her loosened a little. She looked out at the busy bars and clubs of Paris, and it occurred to her that maybe Rae was right—maybe she was trying too hard to make things how she wanted them to be. Maybe she needed to leave Gabe alone.

Give him space.

The door to the club burst open, and a group of people emerged. Behind them was Clara, her face falling when she saw Aubrey. “What happened?” she asked. “You look so bummed out.”

“I’m fine.” Aubrey pushed herself off the wall and smiled. Because, for that moment at least, it felt true.