Ali spied a familiar denim backpack on the counter. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d told Emily that carrying around a backpack wasn’t cool, but Emily always said it was the best on her swimmer’s shoulders. The flap was open, and a few of her notebooks peeked out. The doodles Emily was so fond of drawing were visible on the cover.
Ali glanced at the feet under the stall, then at the bag again. It felt like Emily had purposefully left it there for Ali to find.
When the towel girl’s back turned, she pulled the bag toward her and slid the top notebook out. Upper Main Line Swimming! Emily had written in bubble letters on the front, the name of her year-round competitive swim club. Below it, she listed the names of the girls on her state-champion relay team. Next to that were doodles of the dog character on Family Guy, which Emily wasn’t allowed to watch at her house, and a large red heart with the letter A in the center.
A, Ali thought, her stomach jumping. She was on to something.
She lifted the cardboard cover of the notebook and looked at the first page, but there was nothing written there. She flipped through the pieces of lined paper, but they only contained notes about the Pythagorean theorem and little geometric diagrams. There was a rattling sound of toilet paper on the roll, and Ali froze and looked up. Emily’s feet shifted beneath the stall. She let out a loud sniff, like she was crying.
Whose name started with A? Andrew Campbell? Austin Chang? That hot senior Aaron Gearheart?
Oh God, it’s Aaron Gearheart, Ali thought, her stomach sinking. Aaron dated girls from Hollis—rumor had it he’d even gotten someone pregnant. He’d eat someone like Emily for breakfast.
She flipped through more pages, praying it wasn’t Aaron. When she got to the very last piece of notebook paper, she spied a small red heart in the corner. It was so small, in fact, Ali could only read the handwriting if she put her face very close and squinted.
I love Ali.
15
PLAYLAND ISN’T JUST FOR KIDS
The following afternoon, Ali stood in the doorway at Rive Gauche. Bartenders in crisp white shirts flitted around pouring drinks and cleaning glasses. A waitress rushed past with a tureen of rich-smelling fondue. A few girls from school were sitting in a booth, including Melissa Hastings, who had already noticed Ali and was glowering. Ali craned her neck, looking around for Nick—he was working today and had asked if she’d stop by during his break—but she didn’t see him anywhere.
She was so happy he’d texted. In some ways, she needed to see him, needed to confirm to the world that she liked a guy. Finding that heart on Emily’s notebook had shaken her to her core—she’d dropped the notebook and run out of the bathroom as fast as she could, mumbling a lame excuse to Spencer and the others and begging Jason to come pick her up right away. How had she not sensed Emily’s feelings? All those times Emily had defended her, all those compliments she gave. Even yesterday, Emily had been content just sitting on the couch in the dressing area watching Ali model the jeans in front of the three-way mirror. Ali had changed in front of her a zillion times, thinking nothing of it. This totally explained why Emily had watched Ali so closely when she did that sexy dance to the Justin Timberlake album a few weekends ago. And she’d made a contented little sigh when Ali was finished, like she’d dream about Ali later that night. . . .
Ali wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle it. It was clear Emily was terrified to tell Ali her feelings. She probably knew Ali would tell her she didn’t feel the same way and that their friendship would crumble. Emily was too valuable of a friend for that, though—she was so easy to talk to and, more than that, so controllable. She did anything Ali asked—Ali would never find a sidekick like that again.
“Earth to Alison?”
Ali looked up and saw Nick in the doorway, dressed in Rive Gauche’s white shirt and black pants. “Hey,” she said with a big smile. Just being with him again made her suddenly feel so relaxed, as though she’d slipped into a warm bath.
A beep sounded, and Nick glanced down at his phone. After staring at the screen for a moment, he dropped it in his pants pocket. “So,” he said, grinning at her, his blue eyes bright and clear. “Do you want to go on the merry-go-round with me?”
Ali almost burst out laughing. “Are you serious? The one in the kiddie playland down the hall?”
Nick smirked. “Why? Are you too cool to go on a merry-go-round?”
Normally, Ali would have said yes, but something about riding a merry-go-round with Nick seemed kind of fun. “I’ll go if you go,” she challenged.
“You’re on.” Tingles shot up Ali’s spine as he grabbed her hand. Together, they walked out of the restaurant and down the long corridor, passing a cluster of stores, including Woof, the luxury pet store. When she’d first taken her sister’s place in Rosewood, she’d spent hours in there, admiring the cashmere blankets, leather pet clothes, and organic treats even though her family didn’t have a pet. This is a place where even dogs have to wear the right clothes, she’d thought.
Nick looked at the store. “Are you a dog person or a cat person?”
“A gerbil person, remember?” Ali teased. “But I guess I’d pick cats over dogs.”
“That means you’re aloof and mysterious,” Nick said.
“Or that I don’t like dog slobber,” Ali pointed out.
“Or that you don’t like watching dogs hump everything that moves.”
Ali burst out laughing.
They passed Chanel, Bloomingdale’s, and a high-end kids’ store, chatting about school, homework, and Nick’s new job—he’d already had a woman who could’ve been his mother hit on him today. “It was totally weird,” he admitted. Then he looked at her. “Have you ever gone out with anyone older?”