“How ya doing over there?” Poppy Quinn wrinkles her perfect button nose at me from the driver’s seat. “That face isn’t my favorite on you.”

“Um, I only have one face.”

“That would be incorrect,” she says matter-of-factly, turning her gaze back to the winding road ahead. “You have a bunch of faces and that one, the one you’re making right now, makes me feel like downing a shot of tequila.”

“Everything makes you feel like downing a shot of tequila.”

The scenery turned green at some point over the last hour, the greyscale of Chicago washing away with the vividness of lush grasses and dense forests as we head south. I’ve taken this trek countless times to the little cabin my parents purchased on Lake Michigan when I was a baby. My older brother, Finn, and I spent every summer up here until we moved out and went to college.

Glancing at Poppy’s furrowed brow, I sigh. “I’m fine. I promise.”

“It was the song on the radio, wasn’t it? You were fine until it came on.”

“I am fine,” I insist, sitting up a little taller in my seat. “I’m on my way to my favorite place in the world with my favorite person in the world,” I say, laughing as she dramatically places a hand on her heart.

“That’s so touching. Hits me right in the feels.”

“What’s there to be upset about?” I forge on. “Just that my ex-boyfriend is on a vacation to Tahiti, one that I was supposed to be on with him, that I planned, mind you. Instead, he’s with Carly Mathewson, the model he’s probably been cheating on me with. No biggie.”

Fists clenched at my sides, I imagine Callum Worthington with that blonde bimbo in the perfect over-the-water bungalow that I picked out.

My feelings about him are all over the place. I had myself convinced I was in love with him, but I’m too not upset about not being with him anymore to have really loved him. My anger isn’t even from losing him. It’s from feeling like I was a little placeholder in his bed until he was ready to move a new body in my place.

The fact that she’s a freaking model is just icing on the cake.

My mom says mistakes aren’t mistakes unless you fail to learn from them. I definitely learned from this Callum ordeal—most of all that I’d be capable of setting my morality aside if the situation were right. I’d have no qualms about going all Misery on him if I could get away with it. My conscience is eased by the fact he’d probably like the attention. Second of all, I learned to trust my gut.

I was at a football game with a friend that interviewed players for a pseudo-sports blog. Callum and I started talking while she was finishing up with the coach, and when I looked up, it was a year later and he was telling me he didn’t want to see me anymore.

My gut told me that day to stay away from him. I was turned off by how much he talked about himself and found some of the simplest thing annoying. Still, his charm could be turned on and his gestures grand when he wanted them to be and it was enough for me to consider I was just being picky.

I should’ve been pickier.

“You know,” I say, “I just wish I knew why.”

“Why what?”

“Why he bothered to lead me along if I didn’t matter…and I obviously didn’t matter. Did he love me? Did he cheat on me with everyone I suspected?” Looking at Poppy over my shoulder, I shrug. “It just hurts my feelings.”

“I’m going to try super hard to remember that I have to validate your feelings, even when they’re stupid—”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” she insists. “It’s been three months and who the hell cares why he told you to leave? Just be glad he did.”

“Yeah …”

“You can’t seriously miss the dick.”

“Oh, I do miss the dick,” I say, tongue-in-cheek.

Her laugh floats through the car, her long, dark locks shining in the summer sunlight. “So he could deliver more than a well-timed pass, huh?”

“He was decent. Not the best, not the worst. I think he thought just being Callum Worthington gave him another couple of inches.”

“I told you not to trust a quarterback,” she reminds me. “You should listen to me more. I know things.”

“And you knew he was no good just because he’s a quarterback?”

“Yup. Think about it. Quarterbacks only release the ball. In the grand scheme of things, it’s telling about their make-up.”

“Oh, smart one, please tell me more.”

“Let’s backtrack,” she says, making a circle pattern in the air with her finger. “You dated a kicker before Callum, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you had to constantly bolster his confidence, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s because kickers have all the pressure. Ever heard of ‘icing the kicker’?”

“How does this have to do with Callum?” I laugh.

“Quarterbacks don’t take hits well and if they don’t perform, they’re traded for something better. Plus,” she continues, “they pass the ball. They don’t hold on to it for long. It’s a clear sign of commitment issues. Once they’re in the pocket for too long, if you feel me, or feel too much pressure, they down the ball. Throw that thing at the ground if they have to.”

“You’re crazy,” I giggle.

“I’m a thinker,” she says, tapping her temple. “On that note, I don’t think you should date more football players.”

“You and Finn both.”

“Me and Finn. I like the sound of that,” she winks. Before I can reply, she hustles on. “If you’re all not heartbroken, why are you hauling my city ass to the country for the weekend? You know I don’t do things like … this,” she says with a wave towards the cornfields lining both sides of the road.

“I’m not heartbroken, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit around and think about being traded for a model. That bruises the ‘ol ego a little, you know?”

“Just tell Finn to put a bounty on him when they play Columbus.”

“I think that’s already done,” I laugh. “He had a moving company come get my stuff back to Chicago and the one guy told me my brother said he had their bail money plus a bonus if they could get a fist in Callum’s face.”

“I love your brother.”

I give her a look.

Poppy and my brother have definitely hooked up in the past. It’s usually for just a night, sometimes two, in the midst of a celebration. They’re both fun, kind of goofy, and two of the biggest flirts I know. They’re also two of my favorite people in the world. I think they could be great for each other, with some work. While loyalty may be a strong trait of both, monogamy is not.

“I don’t like that face either,” she grins. “It’s judgey.”

“Weren’t you just telling me a minute ago how bad football players are for my health?”

“No, I was telling you how bad kickers and quarterbacks are. I didn’t say a word about tight ends, and I think Finn Miller has one hell of a tight end.”

“Ew,” I say, making a face. “That’s my brother.”

“That’s one heck of a fine specimen whether he’s your brother or not—”

“There!” I spot the rusted blue gate that indicates the start of our property and almost jump up and down in my seat. “Ooh! This is it!”

“Don’t have a heart attack on me.”

The gravel cracks under the weight of the SUV as we slip through the gates and follow a narrow track up the hill.

“You’ll love it up here,” I gush, taking in the familiar surroundings. “The lake is beautiful, and there are no neighbors for a mile or so any direction. There’s a little town not too far away where you can get the best lemon cake ice cream anywhere.”

“Sounds rad,” she mutters.

“It is rad,” I sigh happily. “I haven’t been up here since Callum tossed me to the curb so he could move Carly in or whatever the hell he’s doing, so just pretend to love it so I can be happy.”

“That’s what I’m here for. To make you happy.”

“This is why I love you,” I say, patting her on the shoulder.

With each roll of the tires, my problems drift a little further away and memories of my childhood roll in. Summers filled with flip-flops, hamburgers grilled on the back porch, s’mores, and lightning bugs come flittering back, making my cheeks ache.

The windows go down as butterflies scatter from the tall grass lining the driveway and the glistening water appears in front of us. It’s the color of the sky before a storm—a deep, dark blue. Waves splash happily against the shoreline, and I close my eyes and just revel in being here.

Poppy pilots the car to the front of the house and shuts off the ignition. “Oh, this is gorgeous.”

“It so is,” I sigh, opening my eyes and pointing towards the lake. “Look at how peaceful the water is today.”

“Uh, I was talking about that …”