Friday, July 1

PARIS

This,” Clara said, “is exactly how I imagined tonight would be.”

Rae walked between Clara and Gabe down a wide Parisian avenue. Clara was wearing a short silver dress she’d sewn herself with a vintage black fascinator clipped into her hair. The warm night crackled with energy. Clara was so close to her it made Rae feel feverish. She tried to distract herself by snapping pictures of all the things they passed: yellow lights in windows, opulent buildings, cafés with bright-red awnings. Everything vivid and dramatic. Everything like a living work of art.

Rae jogged a few steps in front of them and held up her camera. “Look over here!”

Clara stuck out her tongue as Gabe mussed up her hair, making her screech and duck just as Rae snapped the picture. The two of them a whir of motion against the elegant city.

“Nice,” Rae said.

“Very funny.” Clara patted down her hair while Gabe stuck his hands into his pockets and whistled.

Since they’d stopped, Aubrey and Jonah had gotten even farther ahead, walking with their arms around each other’s waists.

“Typical,” Clara said, gesturing at their friends. “Abandoning us already.”

“Probably because we’re so immature.” Gabe skipped ahead and kicked a stone down the sidewalk. If Rae hadn’t known about what had happened between him and Aubrey, she might have thought he was being his normal jokey self. But she could hear an edge of hurt in his voice. She contemplated taking a picture of him. Something artsy and in profile.

A boy hiding his thoughts.

A boy pretending nothing has changed.

Humidity from the day lingered in the night air. She noticed couples smoking cigarettes on their apartment balconies, a girl fastening her helmet before climbing onto her motorbike, and groups clinking wineglasses together at café tables.

Clara linked one arm with Rae and the other with Gabe. “If either of you had a girlfriend right now, you’d ignore everyone else, too, and only pay attention to her.”

“Doubt it,” Rae said. I would, she thought, if you were my girlfriend.

“I don’t need an excuse,” Gabe said. “I could ignore you right now.”

Clara sighed and shoved his arm. Gabe and Clara were constantly teasing each other, but Rae knew there was nothing more to it. Clara had told her a dozen times that she thought of Gabe and Jonah more like brothers. In fact, she’d never dated any of the guys who went to their school. She said LAS boys were full of drama. But she had hooked up with a couple of guys from different London schools, and she’d even had a long-distance boyfriend in California for a few months during freshman year.

Rae reminded herself of all that. It made her wish—for the hundredth, maybe thousandth time—that if she had to fall for a friend, it hadn’t been one who seemed one hundred percent straight.

“Well, I think they’re lucky,” Clara said. The curve of her elbow tightened around Rae’s. “Going to college must be a lot less terrifying if you go with someone you love.”

“Sure,” Gabe said. “But technically they’re not going together. They’re going to different schools that happen to be in the same city.”

“Ha,” Rae snorted. “You sound just like Aubrey.”

“Really?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah.” Rae flicked her camera off and then on again. She probably shouldn’t have said that. It was probably a major Best Friend Violation to talk about Aubrey with Gabe. She was about to change the subject when she realized that they had almost caught up with Aubrey and Jonah, who were waiting for them outside a restaurant on the street corner.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aubrey announced when they stopped in front of her, “welcome to your first official night of freedom.”

A waiter led them to an outdoor table covered by a white tablecloth with leather-bound menus at every place setting. In the center, a candle sat inside a globe, its flame muted by frosted glass. The waiter pulled out their chairs for them, which made Rae feel super awkward. She half slid, half tripped into hers. “Thanks—garçon,” she said. Gabe smirked at her, and she kicked him under the table.

“Okay.” Aubrey unfolded her napkin. “I know this place seems expensive.”

“That’s because it is.” Jonah gawked at his open menu.

“But we don’t have to worry,” Aubrey said. “Rae and I looked up this place weeks ago. We already figured out what we should do.”

“Yes!” Rae said. “I totally remember that!”

Gabe folded his hands on the table. “Do you now?” he asked. She kicked him again.

“We can order one bottle of wine,” Aubrey said, “and a main course each, but we’ll choose from the ones that are less than twenty euros. That way, we’ll have enough left to share a couple of desserts.” She took out her phone to show them the budget she’d drawn up.

“Great plan.” Clara flipped her curtain of dyed-red hair over her shoulder and waved down the waiter. The silver on her dress shimmered like water, and Rae felt helpless. And seriously ridiculous, like there were actual hearts in her eyes or something. Like she might as well get a T-shirt printed with Ask me about my soul-absorbing crush on Clara!

The waiter came back, and Clara said something to him in rapid, convincing French.

Rae picked up her fork and banged it against the side of her water glass. She tried to ignore how perfect Clara looked this evening—the way her hair had turned an even deeper shade of red, how the candle illuminated a small half-moon scar at the corner of her eyebrow. “All right,” she said. “This is our first night, so I think we should set down a few ground rules. I’ll start. Rule number one: No one currently seated at this table is allowed to discuss theater or musicals of any kind. This definitely includes Singin’ in the Rain.”

“That show only ended three weeks ago,” Jonah said. “I’d say it’s ripe with conversational possibility.”

“If we’re making a list,” Gabe chimed in, “let’s add what are you majoring in? I could use a break from that question.”

“You still haven’t picked one?” Clara asked.

Gabe leaned back, tipping his chair onto its two back legs. “My mom’s gunning for political science, so I’ll probably just go for that. Make her happy.”

“You should make yourself happy,” Clara said.

“Hey.” He pointed at her. “This is on the list. No more talking about majors. Anyway, maybe I won’t major in anything. Maybe I’ll skip Reed altogether and become a roadie. Follow some band around the country.”

“Cool!” Rae said. “Can I join you?”

“You two are going to give me a heart attack,” Aubrey mumbled at her menu.

“Okay, okay,” Jonah said. “We’ll talk about something else. Gabe, I’m kicking your ass at Battlefield the second we get back.”

“No!” Rae said. “No battlefields, no assassins, no street fighters. Those are going on the list.”

Gabe snorted. “Who still plays Street Fighter?”

“I’m serious,” Rae said. “We’re taking a vote. Everyone who agrees to follow the rules say aye.”

“Aye!” Rae, Clara, and Aubrey said at the same time.

Rae banged her water glass again. “Sorry, gentlemen. The ayes have it.”

The waiter appeared again, this time carrying a bucket of ice and a bottle that looked suspiciously like champagne. Aubrey sat up straight. “How much is that?” she asked.

Clara ignored her, but there was a spark in her eyes as she directed the waiter to set a flute in front of each of them. A moped droned down the street, and bubbles rose through the liquid in Rae’s glass. Clara held her own glass in the air, and for the briefest second, her eyes met Rae’s. “What should we toast to?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Rae shrugged. “Graduation? Or our futures? Or some other bullshit like that?”

Clara turned to Aubrey. “Or I was thinking… to Aubrey’s budget.”

Gabe choked on his water.

Jonah laughed. “Oh yeah, I’ll definitely drink to that.”

They held their glasses high and concentrated their stares on Aubrey, who groaned and shut her menu. “You guys are the fucking worst,” she said. But she threw her shoulders back and cleared her throat before saying, in the loudest voice she possibly could, “TO AUBREY’S BUDGET!”