“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Palmer said from the other side of the lobby, as she looked at one of the coming-attraction posters. “I liked the dog.”

“I don’t think that’s the best indication of a movie’s quality,” I said, looking around from my spot behind the counter, next to Bri. We were the last ones there—after the show ended, Bri had swept up and we’d helped by pointing out where she needed to sweep. All the moviegoers had gone, and after Craig the projectionist exchanged an awkward greeting with Toby (their date had not been a success), we had our run of the place.

I looked at Bri doing her last checks of the theater, locking the front door so nobody would wander in and making sure everything was turned off, I was impressed that she was hiding her secret so well. But maybe she’d gotten used to it over the last month, or we just hadn’t been paying attention. But as I looked around at all of us hanging out, Palmer and Toby none the wiser to what was going on in our midst, I began to really feel like this might be okay. That we’d get through this, Wyatt and Bri would fade out, and nobody needed to get unnecessarily hurt in the process.

“What do you guys want to do now?” Palmer asked, heading over to me and Toby, while Bri did actual work, taking inventory of the popcorn kernels and condiments. “Diner? Or we could go to the Orchard?”

“Orchard,” Bri and Toby said in unison.

“Oh,” Palmer said, looking crestfallen. “But . . .”

“If you want food, P, just get something to go,” I suggested.

Palmer pointed at me. “I knew there was a reason we keep you around,” she said, pulling out her phone and taking a few steps away.

“Order me French fries!” Toby yelled after her, then turned to me. “Think she heard me?”

“I think she heard you,” I said, laughing. “I just don’t know if she listened to you.”

“Okay,” Bri said, setting her clipboard down. “Done.”

“Can we leave?” I asked over Toby, who, rather than walking up to Palmer, was just yelling, “French fries!” at increasingly louder levels.

“Almost,” Bri said. “I just have to make sure that everyone’s out of the bathrooms and that they’re not a complete disaster.”

“How long?” I asked, taking out my phone. “I’ll see if Clark wants to meet us at the Orchard.”

“We should be good to leave in ten,” Bri said, picking up her phone to check the time, then leaving it on the counter as she headed for the bathroom. “And tell Toby I want in on her fries.”

I started to text Clark as Toby reached into her bag for her own phone, then sighed as she looked at the screen. “My phone’s dead,” she said, dropping it back in her purse.

“Why is your phone always dead?” I asked, shaking my head at her.

“Give me yours,” Toby said, grabbing for it, and I held it out of her reach.

“Wait a sec,” I said. “I’m texting Clark.”

Toby rolled her eyes at me and then reached for Bri’s. “Because you never talk to Clark,” she said, already scrolling through Bri’s apps.

“Okay,” Palmer said, coming back to join us. “Food’ll be ready in ten.”

“Did you get my French fries?” Toby asked.

“Did you want French fries?” Palmer asked, sounding extra confused. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Palmer!” Toby said, then looked up to see Palmer’s expression. “Oh,” she said, smiling. “Gotcha. I just—” Bri’s phone dinged with a text update just as I finished writing my text to Clark. “Oh, Wyatt texted,” Toby said, squinting at the screen, and I looked up at her and felt my stomach plunge.

“Maybe you shouldn’t see that,” I said, quickly reaching for Bri’s phone, but Toby took a step away, still reading, her brow furrowing. “Tobes, just use mine,” I said, desperately trying to get in front of this, holding my phone out to her.

“I . . . ,” Toby said, and now I could see that she was scrolling up, reading Bri’s text messages, her hand shaking and her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t understand what . . .”

“What are you talking about?” Palmer asked, looking at me as my pulse started going double time. This was happening. It was happening right now.

And there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

“Done!” Bri said triumphantly, emerging from the bathroom smiling at us. It faltered, then faded, when she saw Toby. “What’s going on?” she asked, and I saw her eyes dart from her phone to Toby’s face and then to mine. I gave my head a tiny shake.

“Why is Wyatt texting you?” Toby asked, her voice was trembling. “Why is he telling you that he misses you and it’s been too long and he needs to see you tonight?”

“Wait, what?” Palmer asked, her jaw dropping open. She looked at Bri. “Is this a joke?”

“I . . . ,” Bri said, looking at me, then back to Toby. “Okay, so . . .”

“You’ve been hooking up with Wyatt?” Toby asked, her voice rising. “My Wyatt?”

“He’s not yours,” Bri said softly, and I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing that we’d talked about how to handle this if Toby found out. How had we not had a contingency plan in place?