“Not another hair joke,” I whine.

“I was actually thinking we should do something about your confidence.”

“Confidence?” I repeat. “I don’t think I have a problem with that.”

“Being a know-it-all isn’t exactly what we’re going for, Reed.”

“But being an arrogant prick is, I guess?”

He shakes his head in irritation as we pull into the parking lot. “It’s a well-practiced art that comes with time, but it should be worth it.”

I don’t like where this is going, but I follow him inside the mall silently.

We’re standing at the edge of the big indoor cafeteria, and Dylan explains that he wants me to approach a guy our age and ask him out.

He pointed out that I just did a very similar thing with old people, but I’ve been arguing against this exercise for the past ten minutes.

“Shouldn’t I be getting a big makeover montage before I do this?” I ask him. “That’s how it’s done in the movies, at least.”

He rolls his eyes. “This isn’t some crappy made-for-TV movie, Reed. This is your life.”

“Well, I don’t see how this is going to help. I think you are doing this for your amusement, not for my benefit.”

The smell of the various food stalls is actually making my stomach growl loud enough that I just want to get this over with so I can gorge myself with Chinese food.

The stall on the far side has my favorite spring rolls in the entire world. James always makes a disgusted face when I mix every available sauce together and dip them in, but I think the mixture of flavors and spices is delicious.

“Confidence comes from within, Reed. I know my ruggedly handsome exterior is a distraction, but it’s my winning personality that keeps me drowning in women,” he says smugly.

“You know, I thought you were doing me a big favor with this, but you’re actually really enjoying seeing me so miserable, aren’t you?”

He levels with me. “I had no idea where we were going when I picked you up, but did you know that?”

“No,” I admit.

“Confidence,” he says.

“You go first,” I insist. “Show me how it’s done.”

“What a cop-out. You’ve already seen my magic in action. You’re just stalling. Go ahead, pick your target, or I’ll do it for you.”

I find humor in his veiled threat, but I still take in as many people as I can in the food court.

There are a few couples on dates, people eating alone, children and exhausted parents, groups of teenagers and...

Familiar inky black hair catches my attention.

A few tables are pushed together to accommodate the group’s size, and I recognize James, obviously, Kyle, Serena, and a few others from our school. The table is covered in wrappers and trays, indicating they’re almost done.

I watch as the vacant seat beside James is filled by a smiling Lyla, who was James’s first kiss. Half of our third period class saw it happen in the hallway, and afterward, he told me that he hated the way her lip gloss stuck to his mouth.

It was part of the reason I was a lip balm only girl.

Dylan is oblivious to my disappointment as James puts his arm around Lyla. It’s familiar, like he has done to me so many times, but she falls into him in a way I never allowed myself to.

Worse, she whispers something in his ear before he turns and kisses her gently on the lips.

I turn my back to the scene.

“Oh, come on, Reed,” Dylan chides me. “It’s not really that difficult.”

He continues talking, but my mind is in overdrive.

I’m aware that I don’t have ownership over James, no matter what hope I have for us in the future. This group could have casually bumped into each other after school and practice, but from my view, it seemed...intentional. Like they were all deliberately paired off.

Dylan Archer, of all people, sought me out while my best friend went out with a group of people and didn’t send me a text to invite me to join them.

Worse, he’s apparently dating someone and didn’t tell me, his lifelong best friend.

The tears pool in my eyes, a tangible marker of how hurt I am, and I will them not to fall down my face. Not here and certainly not in front of Dylan.

“I’m not doing this,” I tell him.

Thankfully, my voice hasn’t revealed the emotion clotting in my throat.

Dylan follows me as I walk briskly through the doors and across the parking lot. It’s one of the few times in my life when I actually consider running of my own accord, but I’m embarrassed by the thought of it.

By sheer will, I’m at least somewhat composed when we arrive back at his car, but the door doesn’t budge when I lift the handle.

I turn to him now that I’m certain the tears have disappeared completely, going back to wherever they belong.

“Open it,” I nearly bark at Dylan.

“No,” he says lightly, leaning against the car frame, as if he has nothing but time.

I try the handle again, jerking it violently, but it doesn’t open.

“You can’t control everything, Reed.”

“Did giving you a black eye in fourth grade not get the point across? You’re not going to bully me into doing whatever you want.”

I hold my ground on the fact that this exercise was only an effort to make me feel humiliated because the actual cause of my humiliation is too much to bear. I can’t even imagine trying to explain it to him.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Harper Reed backs down from a challenge.”

“It’s not a challenge, Dylan,” I snap. “I don’t need you to work on my confidence or anything else you think needs to improve. Unlike you, I don’t hate myself. I actually like who I am. Now, stop goading me and unlock the damn door.”

He’s too amused by my frustration. “Did you just curse at me?”

“Archer, come on. Let’s get out of here.”

The last thing I need is for the group to finish up and find us out here, together and alone on a Friday night.

“Why is this a touchy subject for you?” Dylan asks, genuinely curious.

I’ve been more open with Dylan than I have with my own family, but this goes deeper than college choices; it’s an intentional omission of the truth from someone I’ve trusted with years of my life.

I expect deception and half-truths from guys like Dylan and Brandon, but James? He’s supposed to be different.

“You have gone out on dates before, yeah?”

Dylan’s still hung up on this topic.

“Wasn’t there that guy you went to Homecoming with? Some sort of fish name.”

I glare at him. “Finn.”

He laughs. “Did he kiss like a fish, too?”

He kind of did, honestly, and the memory makes me frown.

“Oh no, Reed,” he groans. “Don’t tell me…please tell me you’ve been kissed.”

“Of course I have,” I say without hesitation.

Innocent.

Cute.

Innocent and cute.

James’s words flash in my mind, and it’s hard to juxtapose that with the image of him and Lyla together. What else has he been keeping from me that makes me seem so virtuous in comparison?