“‘Sup?”

“Do you always answer the phone like that?”

If she said yes, Nate would probably believe her. She knew she wasn’t the queen of social graces or anything, but she was better than that. Slightly. “Only when I know it’s you.”

“Should I be flattered? And what are you… Are you eating?”

“Yep.”

“Your phone manners are atrocious.”

She crunched down on another chip and put her feet up on the desk. This was going to take a while. “You’re lucky I let you see my true colors, Nathanuel Remingsfield Carter.”

“Seriously, dude, can you chill on the snacking for the five minutes this conversation is going to take? And then you can get back to eating your…”

“Pringles,” Van filled in, her mouth still full of the crunchy, salty goodness.

“It’s not even nine o’clock yet. What the hell are you doing eating potato chips?”

“A) Pringles are not just any potato chip. They are by far the pinnacle of potato-chip-hood with their delightful parabola shape and their innovative packaging which greatly reduces the incidence of greasy fingers and crushed chips at the bottom like those inferior bags. B) They ran out of Hyper O’s in the dining lodge by the time I got there, and you know I require crunch in the morning.”

She ignored Nate’s grumbled protest about eating a slice of toast like a normal person and proceeded to complete her list.

“And C) If they’re good enough for Holtzmann, they’re good enough for me.”

“Sure, whatever. Give me a minute, okay?”

Van obediently placed the tube on her desk and picked up a fidget cube. It was the yellow one, her favorite. She was in a spinning mood, so she thumbed the small disc on one side around and around and around. “Fine. What do you want?”

“You’re making Willa unhappy, and you know how I feel about that.”

Not good. Nate did not feel good about people making Willa unhappy. But Van wasn’t willing to cop to this yet. “Did she tell you she was unhappy?”

“She’s not, for the most part. She loves Heather, she’s enjoying her students, and she likes being at camp. So, actually, she’s having a pretty great time.”

“Then I’m not sure what the—”

“Except for you, Van. What the hell?”

“What?” The spinning was no longer cutting it. Clicking was definitely required for this conversation. She wasn’t great with people. She knew that, and she’d come to terms with it. Being a social butterfly and having gobs of friends wasn’t her jam. Having a couple of close friends, a good spread of colleagues, the occasional hook-up, and an even less frequent girlfriend was good enough.

It also meant when Nate, her best friend, was unhappy with her, it rocked her world, and not in a good way. Nate was usually the one person she could count on to understand her. Hopefully he’d tell her how she could fix this, and then she’d…go do it. That worked most of the time. For an engineer, he usually had pretty good ideas.

“Willa says you barely talk to her, and you avoid her every chance you get. I know this is less than ideal, but come on.”

What was she supposed to say? That, in truth, she liked Willa very much—too much—and she avoided her so she wouldn’t say something stupid? Also so Willa wouldn’t get wind of precisely how attractive Van found her? Confessing to Willa’s doting older brother she had the hots for his baby sister wasn’t something she was up for. Not this morning, and basically never. Especially because it wasn’t like she was going to do anything about it. She’d never jeopardize her friendship with Nate for a few weeks with some girl. No matter how attractive that girl may be.

So instead of pleading her case or explaining herself as she usually did in the face of Nate’s patience and understanding, she clammed up and offered only as much as she needed to get out of this conversation as soon as possible.

“I will attempt to be more personable.”

“Good.” Nate sounded gruffly satisfied, and she could picture him on the couch in his parents’ living room in Fairfield, his cast-encased leg propped up on a pillow. His mom would probably bring him lemonade and popcorn, because that’s how Mrs. Carter rolled. When she wasn’t whipping her garden into shape or playing a game of doubles at their country club at any rate. “Now, are you on duty tonight, or can we do a live-tweet of Serenity? I’m bored as shit, and everyone I know is either working or off having fun without me.”

“It’s a hard-knock life,” Van agreed as she clicked over to the tab of the browser to where her calendar was constantly open. “I’ve got nothing after dinner tonight. Eight o’clock?”

Nate sucked air through his teeth. “Ah, I’m not sure that’s going to work for me. I have a very busy schedule of sitting on my ass and attempting to take a shower with a trash bag rubberbanded around my leg.”

Later she’d send Nate a care package. By care package, she meant picking out a bunch of random awesome things off ThinkGeek and having them delivered to his doorstep. Because that’s what friends were for. “Fine, we can make it eight-thirty. Talk to you then, Nathandridge Orville Carter.”

* * *

When Willa got back from dinner, Van was at her desk as usual and typing furiously, which was not so usual. She also had her headphones on, and it looked like a split screen. It wasn’t any of her business anyhow, so Willa went to the bathroom to get changed and then settled into her bed with one of her journals.

Occasionally her attention would be drawn across the room when Van would laugh, and her fingers were almost constantly flying over the keys. Was she talking to someone? If so, who? Willa felt a twinge of jealousy for whoever was able to engage Van so thoroughly. The most Willa had been able to get out of her were one-word answers, no matter how carefully she crafted the questions.

She was well aware she wasn’t Nate, but surely she couldn’t be that bad? Had she made a misstep somewhere, asking too many questions about Van’s job? Or maybe that was it—Van didn’t seem convinced Willa could hack it in academia. Which was a worry Willa had herself, and having a woman she respected and had had a crush on for…well, a long time, think she wasn’t good enough either? Like maybe she should’ve stuck to her courts and balls and racquets? It hurt, more than Willa wanted it to and more than she’d admit. Which was why she’d been so vague when Nate had asked her how things were going with Van. Aside from saying not so great.

She’d barely confessed her fears about being out of her depth in her PhD program to Nate, and he’d done what he always did. Ruffled her hair and told her she’d be great. His enthusiasm and straightforward pep talks were usually all she needed to be ready to tackle her problems, but this felt different. Bigger, somehow, and something she didn’t already have a rock-solid baseline confidence about. With time, it would get better. She’d keep slogging through her graduate program, and the longer she was there, the more proof she’d have she was meant to be. Until then, she’d have to brazen it out. In her PhD program and here at Camp Firefly Falls.

On the plus side, there were only four weeks left, and everything else was going great. Van laughed again, typed something with a flourish, and then slid her headphones off and closed her laptop. When she got up and turned around, there was a smile on her face, and she looked happy…until she saw Willa.

Van froze on the spot, and her face went blank. “Oh, hey. Didn’t realize you were here. Sorry if I…”

Willa waved her concern away. “You were fine. I was reading before bed.”

“Right. Well…” Van seemed poised to add something else, and Willa was waiting, waiting for it. Talk to me. Tell me who had you sputtering with laughter and typing as fast as your fingers could move. Were you flirting? Was it a date? Nate hadn’t said anything about Van having a girlfriend or dating anyone, but why would he? It’s not as though he would think Willa would want to be with Van—she’d always played her lust for Van close to her chest.

So maybe there was someone. Knowing Van, she was probably a freaking Nobel Prize winner or head of some fancy ass lab or something. The thought made envy spike in Willa’s chest, and it didn’t get any better as Van pointed toward the bathroom, muttered something, and ran a hand through her short-cropped hair before turning on her heel and heading into the bathroom. Great.