When I was ten, I used to sneak into my next-door neighbor’s backyard on summer days and swim in their hot tub when they were at work. No one ever knew.
YET ANOTHER VALENTINE’S DAY
The minute my alarm went off, I knew for certain that the whole thing was real.
I lay there in my bed, cocooned in the heaviness of my down comforter and staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to leave my pillow-soft bed and face it. Because even though I didn’t have a clue about the how or why, I was definitely living in a day-on-repeat loop. I’d gone to sleep at Grandma Max’s, yet here I was again, waking up in my own room to that annoying song Josh had programmed into my iPhone to wake me up.
I glanced over at Logan, sound asleep with his mouth wide-open.
Yep—been here, done this.
I sat up and reached for my phone. And I thought, What if the universe wants me to fix something?
I didn’t believe in fate and karma and that sort of nonsense, but I also didn’t know how to explain what was happening.
Somehow I was reliving the same day for a third time.
What if these repeating Valentine’s Days weren’t karmic punishment for something I did in a past life or some other horrible reason? What if they’re a gift, an opportunity to right a day that went so very wrong?
It was worth a shot, right?
Yes. That was what I was going to do.
I worked through it all in my mind while I took a shower (fast because of Joel’s potty needs, of course), ticking off all the things I needed to correct from the previous day. Then I created a new to-do list.
To-Do List—February 14 (again)
Avoid wrecking car
Avoid scholarship meeting in counselor’s office
Ensure Josh and Macy cannot kiss
Convince Dad that he doesn’t want to move to Texas
How hard could all of that be, right?
After I showered, I slid into my lucky plaid dress. It wasn’t new and adorable like the shirtdress from the original Valentine’s Day, but if ever I needed the luck of the dress that had scored me my highest ACT score, it was today. I paired it with tights and my suede boots—warmer than the day before, but still cute—and headed for the door.
As I drove toward the school, I was hyperfocused on the snow-slushed road. My phone was nestled deep in my bag, my hands carefully placed at ten and two. I was traveling in the left-hand lane, whereas I’d been in the right on the other days, so I was all set up to not crash into Nick Stark.
Taylor Swift was singing about Coney Island while I drove as carefully as a student driver on test day. It was imperative, in my opinion, that I rectify this easiest of complications. I left two car-lengths between my creeper van and the silver minivan in front of me, confident I was going to miss Nick entirely and start the day right.
Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray?
Traffic was moving pretty well in spite of the snow, and I started to relax once I passed the intersection where I’d hit him the day before. Step one of my plan—not totaling my car—was complete. I could almost feel the tension draining out of me when all of a sudden, a huge semi-truck blasted past on my right, shooting slush all over my windshield.
Totally blinding me.
“Dammit!”
I hit the brakes as I flipped on the wipers, but my tires locked on the packed snow and I couldn’t stop. In an instant, I saw everything as my window cleared. My car, sliding into the right lane because I had to jerk the wheel to avoid oncoming traffic.
Sliding directly toward the pickup truck in the other lane.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
I mashed my foot on the brake, but it was no use. I slammed into that vehicle—harder than I’d hit the day before—actually moving it as I rammed the side of the truck bed.
“No, no, no, no!” As my car jerked to a stop, I was staring directly at a truck that looked exactly like Nick Stark’s truck. What the hell, universe?
My hood appeared to be just as crumpled as the day before, maybe more. I unbuckled my seat belt, my shaking hands making the task trickier than usual. I was just grabbing the door handle when it was yanked open from the other side.
“Hey—you okay?” Nick looked down at me, but instead of being a jerk, he looked concerned. “You hit pretty hard.”
“I think so.” I nodded and he stepped back so I could get out of the car. I could smell his soap or shampoo as I stood and closed the door. “Oh no—it’s smoking.”
He and I both looked at my smashed hood as smoke started billowing out. Nick said, “We should probably get out of the road.”
His voice sounded sleep-gravelly as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked toward the side of the road. I followed, a little shaken up by the violence of the crash and also by the undeniable fact that I’d been unable to avoid the Nick collision.
I thought my plan had been foolproof, but the universe apparently had something else in mind.
Nick spoke to 911, and then he must’ve been on hold because he looked at me and whispered, “Aren’t you cold in that?”
And he said “that” while looking down at my legs in the same way he would’ve eyeballed me if I’d been dressed like a Teletubby.
And honestly, I was freezing. It felt like the air was ice, stabbing me through my tights and on my cheeks, but I said, “Nah—I’m good.”
While simultaneously fantasizing about the jacket that I knew was in his back seat.
But I just couldn’t let him win.
He gave me a smirk that called me a liar before he went back to talking into his phone. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering and wondered—again—how he looked like such an adult. I mean, he was my age, but there was something so… over twenty-one about the guy.
“They’re on their way,” he said, shoving his phone back into the pocket of his jeans.
“Thanks.” I had to force myself to look not frozen when I said, “I’m Emilie Hornby, by the way. We sit at the same table in Mr. Bong’s class.”
His eyebrows crinkled together. “We do?”
Yeah—it was just as irritating on repeat. “Yes, we do. Since the beginning of the year.”
“Hmm.” He looked at me. “You sure?”
“Yes,” I said through a groan, rolling my eyes.
“Um…,” he started, watching me like I was a lunatic. “Are you doing okay here?”
“I. Am. Wonderful.” The sirens showed up at that point, and everything was on repeat. Car caught fire, I got ticketed, Nick brought me his jacket, which I begrudgingly accepted, and gave me a ride to school.
I realized as I buckled my seat belt that I needed to be more adaptive during this day of fixing things. Because I didn’t have the exact recipe for what exactly needed to be fixed. I might not have been able to avoid the wreck, but perhaps I was supposed to fix our interaction instead.
I didn’t know the exactitudes, so I needed to try to fix every little thing.
“Thank you so much for the ride,” I said politely, turning my lips up into what I hoped was a pleasant smile. “It’s very nice of you.”
“It’s not really nice,” he said, putting the car into first and letting out the emergency brake, “so much as it is practical. If I let you walk to school and you freeze to death, surely that would put a crimp in my karma. But by giving you a ride somewhere that I’m already going—no sacrifice on my part at all—I’m actually earning good karma.”
I sighed. “Lovely.”
He smirked but didn’t look at me. “It is lovely.”
I looked out the window and tried again. “I love this song, by the way. Metallica’s awesome.” That made him give me the side-eye.
“You like Metallica.”
I nodded and pursed my lips. “Sure.”
His eyes narrowed. “Name three songs.”
I crossed my arms and squinted back at him as he looked at me like I was a liar. Why was he insisting on sabotaging me? “I don’t have to name three songs to prove I like them.”
“Then I’m just going to assume you’re a poser.” His eyes were back on the road again.
“Posing at what, exactly? Someone who likes the sound of angry old guys barking out words?”
That made his lips turn up into an actual smile and he glanced over. “See? I knew you didn’t like them.”
I rolled my eyes, which made him chuckle, and I told myself that it didn’t matter. My interaction with Nick Stark was surely irrelevant in the whole fixing-the-day plan. So I said what was actually on my mind.
“Do you always come at people when they’re just making small talk?”
“I wouldn’t call it ‘coming at people.’ I just think if your small talk is about a band, you should probably know about said band.”
I scoffed. “I was being polite—ever heard of it?”
“I wouldn’t really call pointless lying ‘polite.’ ”
“Come on—it wasn’t lying.” I gave my head a shake. “I was mentioning it for the sake of conversation. It’s what strangers do when they’re attempting to be nice.”
“But we aren’t strangers.” He looked at me with a smirk. Again. “You said you’re my lab partner.”
“I am your lab partner!”
Bigger smirk. “So then why did you say we’re strangers?”
I sighed. “I have no idea.”
It was horribly quiet for a few minutes as his old truck drove in the direction of our school. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but better than when he was talking. So—of course—he ruined it when he said, “Wait a second—now I know where I’ve seen you. Aren’t you the girl—”
“Who sits by you in Chem? Yes,” I interrupted.
“—who choked in the cafeteria?”
Man, I would never live that down.
“I didn’t choke.” I cleared my throat. “It just got stuck in my throat.”
That made him look away from the road to give me a cocked eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be the literal definition of choking?”
“No, it would not,” I huffed, knowing I was huffing but unable to stop. “Choking is when food gets stuck in your windpipe and you cannot breathe. I could breathe; I just had food stuck in my esophagus.”
He rolled in his lips and narrowed his eyes. “You sure that’s right?”
“Of course I’m sure—it happened to me.”
He made a noise. “I’ve just never heard of that—I don’t know if it’s a thing.”
“I am telling you that it happened so you actually do know that it’s a thing.” I could hear my voice getting high-pitched, but the boy was beyond frustrating. “Some people have a condition where food can get stuck in their throat. I have to take omeprazole every morning to ensure it doesn’t happen again. So it is definitely a thing.”
He pulled up to a stoplight, and when the truck came to a complete stop, Nick turned his head and looked at me.
His mouth wasn’t smiling, but there was something teasing in his eyes when he said, “Are you sure you’re my lab partner?”
I groaned. “Of course I’m sure.”
“That girl is super quiet, whereas you seem pretty chatty.”
“I’m not chatty.”
“You seem excessively chatty, actually.”
“Well, I’m not.” I was actually a quiet person. Shit.
“Yeah, okay.”
We didn’t speak again until we got to school, where I thanked him for the ride and very nearly threw his coat at him. He caught it gracefully, and as I turned away, I could have sworn he was smiling.
I had to force myself to take a deep breath and focus. It didn’t matter that Nick Stark was intent on ruining my chances of fixing this day—I had work to do.
When the office sent a pass for me, I grabbed my bag and started in that direction. But instead of turning toward the administration area, I walked all the way back to the farthest restroom in the building, the one that was past the library.
I didn’t really have a good plan on how to keep my spot in the summer program, but part of me wondered: If they couldn’t find me, might they consider just letting me in to save us all the awkward embarrassment of their mistake?
I mean, what was one more spot, really?
It was the best I could come up with at that moment, so hiding in the bathroom was what I was going to do. I glanced behind me before pushing in the bathroom door and going inside. It smelled like cherry—a wafting reminder of the in-between-class vapers—but I was alone.
Whew.
I set my bag next to the sink and pulled out my makeup pouch. I spent a few minutes touching up my cheeks and lips. I had complicated feelings about Josh after seeing him kiss-but-not-really-in-real-life Macy, but I was forcing myself to forget about that.
She had kissed him, after all, and if I’d stuck around, would I have seen him pull away? I was going with yes.
Presents, poetry, and I love you—those boxes were getting checked. I had total confidence in my theories about relationships and love, and I wasn’t going to let a tiny little peck screw it all up. Today was going to go perfectly, and tomorrow would be February 15.
Unfortunately, the makeup freshening didn’t take long, and after that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I could scroll through my phone to pass the time, but there was a whole nervous-awkwardness thing that made me tense as I stood by the sink.
Did I hear someone coming? Who was it? Teacher or student? Nice or mean? Was I supposed to pretend to be doing my makeup if they came in or… what? The minutes were ticking by like they were in slow motion.
Finally, I decided to go into a stall. It seemed disgusting, sitting on a toilet—once again—while fully clothed, but at least I could relax. I took my bag into the first slot, locked the door, and started laying down a two-layer-deep covering of toilet paper across the seat. When it was finally thick enough where I could no longer see the black seat, I sat down.
I pulled my phone out of my front pocket and texted Josh.
Me: I cannot believe it’s V-Day and I haven’t seen you yet today.
Josh was quick to respond, my phone making the familiar horse’s neigh sound that he’d programmed as his own personal ringtone. Right?! Your present is burning a hole in my locker. Where were you this morning?
That made me relax a little. I smiled and texted: Wrecked my car on the way to school—I’ll tell you about it later.
Josh: Oh, shit.
Me: Right? Now, regarding my present, is it burning a big hole or a little hole?
Josh: That’s for me to know and you to find out. But I have to go take a quiz now, babe.
Me: Fine. Xoxo.
I backed out of messages, feeling relieved. Regardless of what’d occurred on the other Valentine’s Days, there was no way Josh would be kissing Macy that day.
Take that, Mace.
Since I wasn’t going anywhere soon, I leaned down, unzipped my bag, and started digging for my book. If I was stuck hiding in the restroom, why not make use of the time and read, right? I had to take out the bottle of Diet Coke in order to grab the paperback, so I set it on the floor and pulled out the novel.
My toes were already killing me because my adorable new boots were a half size too small, so I slid my feet out and rested them on top of the soft suede as I settled in to read.
I shoved my phone into my pocket with one hand as I gripped the book with the other, but as I pulled my hand out of my pocket, my cuff bracelet caught the edge of my phone. I grappled for it as it started falling, but it was like I was watching in slo-mo as the phone tumbled and went through the tiny gap that existed between my outer thigh and the edge of the toilet seat.
“Gah!” I jumped up, but it was too late. I looked down into the TP-decorated toilet. My beautiful rose-gold phone with the adorable floral case had immediately sunk to the bottom of the germ-infested porcelain bowl. “No, no, no—shit, shit, shit.”
As my ears started pounding, I realized that my stockinged feet were now directly on the disgusting floor.
Ignoring that for now, I rolled in my lips, took a deep breath, and plunged my hand into the freezing-cold bacteria-laden water.
“Dear Lord.” I pulled it out, holding the dripping device—which was surely destroyed—out in front of me.
I opened the stall with my dry hand and moved through the opening, leaving my bag in the stall. I needed to scrub the skin off of my hands and sanitize my phone. Feeling the cold bathroom floor under my feet, I clenched my teeth. How had this happened?
I’d taken one step out of the stall in my stockinged feet when the bathroom door opened. I froze as three girls filed in, talking loudly among themselves.
No, no, please, no.
It wasn’t just any three girls; it was them.
There were a lot of popular people at school who seemed nice enough, but Lauren, Nicole, and Lallie were the ones who enunciated like Kardashians and actually told people they couldn’t sit with them at lunch.
On any given day, they could randomly decide your hair was ridiculous and start a school-wide joke of a nickname that followed you all the way though graduation and still existed at your ten-year reunion.
I’d felt marginally less vulnerable around them since I started dating Josh, only because they liked him. They still didn’t talk to me, which was fine, but their threat was neutralized by their friendly relationship with my boyfriend.
But it was like time stopped and for a split second, I was able to see myself through their eyes. A bookish non-popular, coming out of a bathroom stall with a dripping phone in her hand and her shoes off. That led their eyes to the floor of stall number one, where my boots, a book, and a half-consumed bottle of Diet Coke all sat together as if I’d just been having a toilet picnic.
They kept talking to each other and didn’t say anything to or about me—thank goodness—but as I turned on the faucet and started lathering my hands and my phone, I definitely saw the eyebrow-raises.
Perfectly arched eyebrows, mind you, but eyebrows that said they’d definitely be talking about me after they left.
Which, thankfully, was only moments later. Once they were gone, I ran to gather my stuff, re-boot myself (after wiping hand sanitizer on the bottom of my tights), and wrap my tainted phone in a hundred paper towels before zipping it into my bag’s outside pocket.
Okay. So. The bathroom ordeal made total perfection unachievable. But I still had hope that achieving romantic perfection could potentially save the day.
I sat anxiously through my next class because (a) I didn’t have a phone so I had no way of knowing if Josh was texting, (b) I was worried the office was going to try again, (c) I was stressed that rumors of my potty picnic were already circulating, and (d) I was paranoid my boots were going to start smelling like Fritos since I’d zipped my feet into them while they were still slick with sanitizer.
I was trying to avoid thinking by taking extensive notes on my laptop, when an email notification popped up.
I clicked into my in-box and my stomach dropped when I saw who it was from.
Mrs. Bowen, from the summer program.
I’d hoped to discuss this in person, but since we weren’t able to locate you, email will have to suffice.
“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath as I read my rejection in a cold, professional email message.
“Ms. Hornby?” My World Civ teacher, Mrs. Wunderlich, looked at me as if I’d just spoken in tongues. “What was that?”
“Nothing. Sorry.”
She went on to do the requisite ten-second teacher stare, a gaze that informed me I had done wrong and she hoped I was dying of mortification, before going back to her lecture.
Perfecting this day was looking more and more challenging.
When the bell rang, I gathered my things and very nearly sprinted through the halls in order to get to the west entrance earlier than on the other days. I bumped and excuse-me’d through the congested hallways, and once I reached the double doors, I moved to stand behind the huge arrangement of indoor plants.
I wasn’t hiding—really. I was… lurking. Maybe. I knew Josh wouldn’t kiss Macy, but I was curious to see them arrive and get a sense of their vibe when they were together.
“What are you doing?”
I jumped at the sound of the voice, and when I turned around, it was Nick Stark, smirking at me like he knew exactly what I was up to. I glanced behind him before quietly saying, “Shhh. Go away.”
“Um.” He gestured to the mini jungle I was protected by. “Are you stalking someone from back here?”
“No, I’m waiting for my boyfriend. Can you—”
My head swiveled around and my words stopped when I heard Josh’s voice. I felt Nick’s gaze follow my own as Josh and Macy walked in our direction, and I grabbed Nick’s sleeve and pulled him behind the plants with me. I couldn’t have him drawing their attention to my lurking. Josh was talking and Macy was smiling—beaming, actually—and Josh was walking a little sideways so he could face her better.
I mean, no big deal. They were friends, right?
“Come on, Josh.” Macy’s eyes were animated as she said, “If you let me come along, not only do you get the joy of having me ride shotgun in your James Bond–mobile, but I will allow you to make the call on what we do with all that time.”
They stopped in front of the doors and he smiled down at her. I could tell he was enjoying the attention. “That sounds like a lot of power—I’m not sure I can handle it.”
“Oh, I know you can’t.” My heart was pounding in my chest and my stomach dropped out of my body as she leaned closer to him and said, “But you should try.”
He said, “I guess I could use someone to hold the drinks.”
“Told you.”
“And all your help will cost me is a tall vanilla latte?”
“I can’t believe you remember my order,” she said, and laughed.
Why couldn’t she believe that? It was everyone’s Starbucks order, for the love of God. Every girl at this school probably had the same drink at least once. It didn’t make him freaking Einstein.
He looked charming, and sexy, and I kind of wanted to punch his pretty nose as he said, “I remember everything, Mace.”
“Uh, you sure he’s your boyfriend?” Nick whispered, and I kind of wanted to punch him, too.
Josh pushed the doors open and he and Macy started walking outside, and I don’t know what came over me.
“Wait!” I yelled as I grabbed Nick’s sleeve, pulling him with me as I ran after them, pushing through the doors and jogging as they both stopped and turned around. I saw Macy glance nervously at Josh but my boyfriend slid into a confident smile as he said, “Em!”
I realized as I stumbled to a stop—with Nick at my heels—that I had no idea what I was doing. No plan, other than to yell and scream and stop them, with Nick as some kind of a buffer. Now that I was in front of them, I was clueless. I cleared my throat and said, “Are you going on a coffee run?”
Macy’s face relaxed and Josh said, “Yeah. You know Mr. Carson—needs it every day.”
“Awesome.” I nodded. “Nick and I are dying for coffee and need to get out of here. Care if we come with?”
I glanced at Nick, waiting for him to ruin it for me, but he just frowned, which wasn’t too different from his usual expression, actually. Josh looked at Nick, clearly confused about what the guy was doing there, and Macy said, “Of course.”
Josh, still squinting at Nick, said, “You know how big my car is, Em. You up for riding in the middle?”
“Sure,” I muttered, regretting all of my terrible decisions as the four of us silently walked to his car. I shot Nick a look, raising my eyebrows as if to say, Pretty please just go along with this. Surprisingly, he rolled his eyes and walked beside me, which didn’t even make sense because there was no way he actually wanted to ditch school to go to Starbucks with us.
We weren’t even friends.
But despite his attitude that morning, I found his presence comforting. Something about his I-don’t-give-a-shit hotness and the way he said whatever he was actually feeling made me feel like I had an ally.
Weird, right?
Josh’s car was a tiny little two-seater, so when he unlocked the door, I had to climb—in a dress—across the passenger seat and into the tiny spot in front of the gear shift. Macy got in beside me, Nick had to squish in beside her, and the four of us jammed together in the world’s most awkward sandwich.
I turned and put my legs on Macy’s side of the floorboards, so as to not be straddling the stick shift, making our legs touch and upping the embarrassing horror of the outing. And I had to put my arms over the backs of the seats so I wouldn’t flop around on top of them every time we turned a corner. I accidentally touched Nick’s shoulder, making him look over at me. Leaning back so Macy couldn’t see, I looked at him and he mouthed, What. The. Fuck.
In the midst of the awkwardness, a tiny part of me wanted to laugh. Instead, I mouthed, Please help me, which made him sigh in a way that I hoped meant he found me ridiculous but would help me.
Josh flipped on the heater and left the parking lot, and it was the worst kind of quiet in the car.
What was I even doing?
“How many coffees are you getting today?” I tried to sound utterly unaware of the dynamic as we drove toward Starbucks. “Big order?”
Josh turned the corner, making me dig my fingers into their headrests in order to not fly out the window, as he said, “Just five. Ours and his.”
“Got it.”
More quiet.
“You don’t have a class this hour, Macy?” Nick asked, looking at me as if to point out how sketchy this seemed.
“I’m in Carson’s class with Josh, so I just told him that Josh needed help carrying the drinks.”
“Ah.” Nick, still looking at me, said, “That’s convenient.”
“I texted you earlier to see if you wanted something,” Josh said to me, turning on his blinker and switching lanes.
“Oh, yeah—my phone is dead.”
“I always forget to charge mine, too,” Macy said.
“I actually dropped it in the toilet,” I said, instantly regretting sharing that little gem. “I mean, not a dirty toilet—it wasn’t dirty. I mean, yes, all toilets are dirty, but I mean there was nothing in it.”
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
“Holy Christ,” Nick muttered at the same time Macy said, “Oh my God.”
Yes, we were all calling out to the Lord in response to my phone’s disgusting swim.
“Right?” was all I could manage.
Josh pulled into Starbucks, put the car in neutral, flipped his sunglasses up on his head, and looked at Nick, who was looking out the window. Josh had that debate-captain-superiority look on his face as he asked, “Okay, so I know what the girls want. What about you, dude?”
Nick didn’t even look over. “I’m good, but thanks. Dude.”
Josh glanced at me, like he was looking for an explanation as to why Nick Stark was with us and being a jerk, and I smiled and shrugged. As if I had any clue what was going on in life anymore.
After Josh came back with the drinks, we sped back to school, with Josh cranking up the radio so conversation was impossible, which I appreciated.
As we pulled into the parking lot, Macy turned down the radio and said, “What is that smell?”
And she put her perfect little nose in the air and started sniffing.
I sniffed, but didn’t really smell anything other than coffee.
“You’re right, it smells like feet in here.” Josh put the car in first, pulled up the emergency brake, and turned off the engine while wrinkling his nose.
Oh no. I scrunched up my face and pretended to be disgusted, too. “Josh. Did you maybe leave some socks in here or something?”
That made Josh glare at me. We both knew that he spent countless hours—every weekend—buffing and loving up on that tiny little car, before he said, “There are no socks in my car.”
“You sure?” Nick asked. “Because it really smells like dirty socks.”
Josh looked like he wanted to kill Nick. “Why would I have dirty socks in my car?”
“I have no fucking idea.”
Before their noses could hone in on my booties I said, “Can you guys let me out? My legs are beyond cramped.”
We filed out of the car, and the four of us went back into the school. Josh gave me a little peck—the obligatory goodbye kiss—when we had to go our separate ways. I held my coffee and watched him and Macy walk away.
I may have successfully kept them from kissing, but that coffee run definitely didn’t feel like a win. The bell rang at that moment, destroying my train of thought.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Nick drawled, startling me from my thoughts as he gave me an amused smirk. “Witnessing that level of awkwardness was downright entertaining.”
“Shut up,” I said, unable to hold back a tiny smile.
“Seriously.” He turned and started walking away from me, yelling over his shoulder as the passing period crowds swallowed him, “You’ve really made this an amazing day, Emilie.”
I rolled my eyes and headed in the direction of my locker. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear the giggles at first. Then something in my peripheral vision caught my eye. I glanced to my right and there were Lauren, Nicole, and Lallie, with four other girls, standing in front of a bank of lockers.
Giggling, whispering to each other, and looking directly at me.
I walked faster and breathed a sigh of relief when I walked through Mr. Bong’s door. Suddenly finding myself on those three’s radar was not something I’d anticipated, and it surely wasn’t something I wanted.
The relief was fleeting, though, when I reached my table and Nick was smirking up at me with his chin resting on his hand.
I sat on my stool and unzipped my bag, pulling out my textbook and my binder, ignoring him completely.
He said, “So that was weird, right?”
I rolled my eyes and opened the book, flipping toward our current chapter.
“One minute you were telling me to go away, and the next you were dragging me along on the world’s most awkward trip to Starbucks.”
I didn’t answer, and his voice got a little quieter when he said, “You do know he’s cheating with her, right?”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, continuing to flip the pages of my textbook. “Can we go back to not talking?”
“I don’t think we can.” He reached his hand over and stopped me from turning another page. “Because we’re no longer strangers.”
This was the cherry, wasn’t it? The cherry on top of the god-awful attempt at perfecting the day. Looking from his hand to his face, I sighed and said, “But we can be. I’m chatty—and you hate that—and you’re surly, which I hate. So let’s just pretend we never ran into each other this morning and you can go back to not knowing who I am.”
That made him smile, a smile that was—to be honest—potent as hell. He was such a scowly introvert that it almost made you miss how unbelievably handsome he was.
But when he was present—and smiling—he was club-you-in-the-gut-with-a-board attractive.
Such a waste on an asshole.
“I don’t think I can do that,” he said, crossing his arms and really looking at me. “And you didn’t invite me to coffee—technically, you dragged me.”
Mr. Bong came in and started talking, which foolishly made me think Nick would shut up and leave me alone. But there was no such thing as good luck on this day.
“Guess what I read last period?”
I said, “Shhh.”
“Dysphagia.” He leaned closer and said, “That’s what it’s called when food gets stuck in your throat but you aren’t choking.”
I coughed out a laugh. “What is your deal?”
“No deal.”
“You never talk to me in Chem, and now you have information on the weird health thing that happened to me last year in the cafeteria. What are you up to?”
He gave a little chuckle and straightened as Mr. Bong glanced in our direction. “I just wanted you to know that I looked it up, and it is actually a thing.”
“I know it’s a thing—it’s my thing! It happened to me.”
“Emilie?” Mr. Bong—and the entire class—was looking at me. Because yeah—I might’ve said it a little loudly.
I murmured, “Sorry.”
Mr. Bong went back to his lecture, and when I glanced at Nick, he was shaking his head and clearly trying to hold in a laugh. I shook my head, but the mischief in his face made it impossible not to smile a little.
“Long story short—my car got towed.”
I looked at Chris in disbelief as he put on his coat and slammed his locker. On top of everything, of all the tragedies of that god-awful day, Chris had no car with which to drive us home? I said, “So…?”
“So we’re walking home, I guess, because Rox is already gone and my parents are both in meetings.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “I cannot believe this day.”
“I checked and the wind chill is just south of ten degrees, so yeah—this is gonna blow.”
“You guys need a ride?”
I closed my eyes when I heard the voice. Of course Nick Stark was there. Why wouldn’t he be? He was every-fucking-where that day. I opened my mouth to give him a big old No thanks when Chris said over my shoulder in a near-squeal, “For real?”
I turned in time to see Nick shrug and say to Chris, “Sure. You ready now or—”
“I have to do something first,” I interrupted, giving Chris a look. “I have to, um, run something to the north hall meeting room really fast.”
Chris rolled his eyes, catching on to what I was up to. “I just want to go home, Em.”
“I need to find Josh first. I’ll be quick.” I held up a finger at them, turned, and started speed-walking down the hall toward the meeting room, but they followed me. Over my shoulder, I said, “You don’t have to go with me—I can meet you at the car.”
“Nah—we want to,” Nick said, giving me a smart-ass look as they kept walking with me.
“Can’t you go over to his house later?” Chris sighed dramatically and added, “Like a normal human being on Valentine’s Day?”
“I just have to give him his gift before I go.” We reached the meeting room, which was where Mock Trial did their thing, and I took a deep breath. “One minute and I’ll be ready.”
Chris rolled his eyes. I knew I was acting desperate, but really—I was desperate. I gestured for them to move and give me a little space, but they weren’t budging.
Fine.
I pulled open the door and popped my head inside. People were sitting at multiple tables, talking, and I squinted as I scanned the room for Josh. I was almost ready to give up when I noticed the back of his head, sitting at a table on the other side of the room.
I was a little surprised by the bubble of rage that blurbled inside of me at the sight of his curly hair—the outing with Macy was too fresh—but we were going to do the damn love thing if it killed me.
“Josh!” I whisper-yelled. “Pssst! Josh!”
He didn’t hear me, but Owen Collins—one of Josh’s I-purport-myself-to-be-a-college-professor friends—did. He stood and said, “Joshua, you are being paged by your girlfriend.”
Which made every single head swing around in my direction.
“Can we go, please?” Chris muttered from behind me.
“One sec,” I said as Josh walked across the room and toward me.
“This is so romantic,” I heard Nick mutter, sounding like he thought anything but.
Chris giggled.
“Hey. Em.” Josh looked at me. “What’s up?”
“I, um, I have your present.” I held up the wrapped box and smiled. “I thought maybe we could do our exchange really quick before I go.”
“I don’t have your present with me.” Josh glanced behind him and then said to me, “And I really have to go.”
“But don’t you have to work after this?” I tucked my hair behind my ears, anxious to convince him because I desperately needed to turn the day around so February 15 was a possibility. “I really want to give you my gift today.”
“Desperate much?” Chris said, and I knew he was right, even as I kicked out my leg and struck his shin. I knew he was right, but I still had to try.
Maybe my “I love you” utterance would change everything.
“Listen, Em,” Josh said, not even bothering to hide his annoyance this time. “I don’t know what this is, but I’ll talk to you later. I have to go.”
“Okay. Well, um, I just wanted to tell you that I love—”
“Chicken.” Nick pulled open the door, making me stumble backward, and he popped up beside me. “She loves chicken and thought you, her boyfriend, should probably know that.”
Josh looked back and forth between Nick and me before saying, “Who even are you?”
Nick smiled. “I’m Nick.”
I pushed Nick out of the doorway. “I don’t love chicken, I love—”
“Look, I have to go, Em. We’ll talk later.”
He walked away, and I saw Owen looking at me like I was a pathetic, clingy loser. Which I was. I turned around and Nick was leaning against the wall and shaking his head, and Chris was staring at me with his mouth wide-open.
“I cannot decide whether to hug you after you humiliated yourself so badly, or kick your ass.”
“Please,” I said, turning away from the Mock Trial door and walking into his chest. “Kick my ass.”
Chris wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his hoodie. He said, “There, there, Em,” and patted my back for five seconds before saying, “Now get off and let’s go before our ride ditches us.”
“I do need to go,” Nick said, and Chris gave him directions to our houses as we walked down the hall and exited the building.
I had humiliated myself. I knew I was forcing things, but I was right. I was right about Josh and about love, and how to break out of this time loop.
The only upside was that I’d probably be waking up to the same day again tomorrow, as every attempt to change the day had resulted in a trainwreck, so at least it would be forgotten, and I’d get my do-over.
As we buckled up—Chris in the middle this time—he asked, “Is everything okay, Em?”
I shrugged and clicked my belt in place. “I, um, I just really wanted us to have a big Valentine’s moment.”
“I’d say you succeeded,” Nick said, putting his truck in first before pulling out of the parking spot.
“Shut it,” I replied.
“I’m not going to say anything bad about Joshua because I respect that you like him, but don’t you think he was kind of… prickish to you just now?” Chris glanced over at me and said, “I mean, yes, you were acting… oddly, but he was a bit of a tool.”
I glanced over at Nick as I quietly said to Chris, “Maybe we can talk about this later…?”
“Oh, come on, Emmer.” Chris gestured toward Nick and said, “After he witnessed that pathetic display of lovesick tomfoolery, I’d say he’s fine to be grandfathered into this discussion.”
“Did you talk to Alex today?” I asked.
“Nice subject change,” Chris said to Nick, and then he said to me, “And of course I did—I’m not a wishy-washy little baby bitch.”
Chris had had a crush on Alex Lopez for months now. They were friends—they both ran cross country so they knew each other pretty well—but Chris was afraid of ruining their friendship by asking Alex out. He’d decided that on Valentine’s Day he was going to see if Alex wanted to hang out. The plan was to pull one of those “Valentine’s Day is lame when you’re single so since we’re both single and alone, do you want to get a pizza and watch old movies?” kind of things.
I gasped. “You seriously did it?”
He smiled a little secret smile and said, “I stumbled into it. At first I totally choked, but then he said he felt like a loser for having no plans, so he left me the perfect opening.”
“That’s amazing!” I laughed as his face transformed into happy sunlight. Chris liked to act too-cool, like, all the time, but he was one of the more vulnerable people I knew underneath it all. “So what are you going to wear?”
“No.” He held up a hand and shook his head. “I’m not ready for the stress yet. Can we just take a moment and picture his adorable face? Like, when Alex is all serious about a topic and goes off, the combo of intensity and boyish cuteness is just too much.”
I nodded; he was so right. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. Last year I had him in Halleck’s American Government class, and after he popped off on Ellie Green because, well, she was being so super Ellie-ish, I was obsessed with him for days. Adorable plus intense equals holy crap.”
“Right?” He was beaming again, and I was so, so happy for him. Chris had been my best friend since we’d both gotten fake notes to miss swimming our freshman year. We assumed we’d be able to just sit out, but Coach Stroud made us stand on the side of the pool and do the strokes with our hands. On dry land.
I would’ve died of mortification by myself, but Chris made it into choreography. I’d laughed so hard at his ludicrous dances that we’d both earned detentions.
We spent the rest of the drive to Chris’s discussing Alex Lopez’s greatness, and Nick was quiet. I was making all sorts of internal judgments about his silence until he said to Chris as he pulled onto his street, “Just make sure you let him see the real you; then the guy doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Who are you, Nick Stark?” Chris teased. “I haven’t talked to you since second grade Cub Scouts, and now here you are, acting like some kind of hot, grumpy Cupid.”
“You shut the fuck up right now.”
Chris started laughing, and so did I. “I can’t believe either of you were in Cub Scouts.”
“I’ll have you know I was the best knotter in the squad,” Chris said, unzipping the outside pouch of his backpack and pulling out his keys.
“Pack,” Nick corrected, slowing as Chris’s house approached.
“Pack,” Chris repeated, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at me.
“Thanks for the ride, Nick,” Chris said when we pulled into his driveway. I opened the door and got out so he could get past me, and I wondered why Nick hadn’t dropped me off first. It seemed like he’d have to backtrack now, but maybe Nick had to go somewhere in the direction of my house or something. Maybe he had a hot older girlfriend who lived by me and he was heading over to pick her up. Despite his being witness to the most mortifying moments of my life today, he was still practically a stranger.
When I got back in and closed the door, Chris gestured for me to roll down my window.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, turning his lips down like he was worried. “That stunt with Josh was very not like you.”
“I just… I don’t know. I really had my heart set on a perfect Valentine’s Day this year so I might’ve forced things.”
“You think?” Chris said.
“I wanted to tell him that I love him, but then Nick—”
“NO,” Chris snapped.
“—ruined it.”
“I don’t think I was what ruined it,” Nick said from behind the wheel.
Chris said, “You’re joking, right? You were going to say the L-word?”
Why was he saying it like I was out of my mind? “I’m totally serious.”
His eyes got huge and he shook his head back and forth. “No, no, no. Em, you don’t love him.”
“Yes, I do—”
“How long have you even been going out with him? Isn’t it a little soon?”
“Three months today, actually.”
“Three months.” His eyes shot over to Nick and then back to me. “Today?”
“Yep.”
His eyebrows went all the way up. “Don’t you think this is a little convenient?”
“What do you mean?”
He said, “Okay. Here you are, Little Miss Planner. Little Miss To-Do List. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been obsessed with everything fitting into neat little boxes that you can check off.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” He gave me a sweet face and said, “I think your compulsive need for control is adorable. But don’t you think saying I love you on your three-month anniversary that happens to be on a love holiday is just a little too penciled-in-the-date?”
I felt myself blush. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Don’t you need to go in your house now?”
“Fine, I’ll shut up,” he said. “If you want to ‘I-love’ the shit out of him, just call him later.”
I rolled my eyes and waved before he turned and ran up the steps and into his house. Nick put the truck in reverse and backed out, and just as he put it in first, he said, “You know you don’t love him, right?”
“What?” I looked at his profile and said, “How would you know?”
“How would you not know?” he said.
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” I said, annoyed. Thank God I lived close to Chris and was almost home already.
“Well, you should have it with someone.” He glanced over at me. “You’re saying the L-word, but a few hours ago you were hiding behind plants to see if he was cheating on you.”
“That’s not what I was doing—”
“Bullshit,” he said.
“It’s not,” I lied. “I was just waiting for him.”
Nick braked in front of my house, pulling the car over to the curb. He shoved it in neutral, pulled up the parking brake, and turned to face me. “Even if that were true—and we both know it’s not—the vibe between you and your ‘boyfriend’ was awkward and polite. It was tense and weird. For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t love.”
“Why do you care?” I said, almost crying now. I was tired of the repeating days, of thinking about Josh and Macy, of Nick acting like he knew anything about me or my relationship.
His face was unreadable. “I don’t.”
But… did he? He looked so serious that it made my stomach feel flittery. I grabbed my bag and said, “Good. Um, thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
Inside, I went straight to my room, hoping to maybe just avoid the promotion discussion with my father entirely. Unfortunately, he came up right after me and told me the “good news” while tousling with Joel on my bed, tickling the kid and putting on a glorious display of fatherly love that I found to be terribly depressing.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he and Lisa talked about Texas all through dinner. The things they could do there, the suburbs where they hoped to find a house, the restaurants they hoped to frequent, the touristy things the boys would love. Valentine’s dinner that night was apparently sponsored by the Texas travel commission.
By the time I was ready to go to sleep, I was totally dejected. Josh hadn’t called or texted, so I stood in front of my bedroom window and made a wish upon a star, just like I was seven and wishing for my parents to stay married.
“Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.” I stared out at the brightest star I could find, narrowed my eyes, and said, “I wish that I could have the perfect Valentine’s Day and make this loop end.”
I climbed into bed, hopeful but realistic.
I hadn’t made it the perfect day—not even close.
But perhaps I only needed to fix, like, one thing. I mean, technically, I’d prevented Josh from cheating on me, so that had to count, right?
As I climbed under my covers, though, an image of me in his front seat, squeezed between him and Macy and Nick while my boots smelled like Fritos, popped into my head.
Yeah, that prevention probably didn’t count for much.
