He probably has no idea what he ruined.
Sophie’s friends start trickling in, leaving gift bags near the front table. The boys are all wearing literally the same ensemble: black jackets over white collared shirts, with blue ties. But the girls have all changed into shorter, tighter dresses, most of which basically look like tubes of fabric. Maddie shows up, looking tearful, and she and Sophie hug for about an hour. Then Maddie spends another hour hugging a wavy-haired blond girl—Tessa, as I now know from Instagram. And then she gets going again with Andrea—and even Andrea’s sister. Apparently Sophie’s reception is also a Maddie support group.
“Sophie looks so cute,” Nolan says. “What a little peanut.”
I nod, but I’m only half present. My eyes keep glancing back to the staircase.
Felipe prods my arm, smiling knowingly. “She’ll be here.”
“What? No, I’m just—”
My words fall away. Maya drifts up the staircase, carrying a wrapped gift and a tote bag, and my heart leaps into my throat.
She’s dressed in pale gray lace, with delicate short sleeves. I’m pretty sure Drew’s speaking to me, but I’m just—Maya’s hair. It’s shiny and straight, curling just barely at the ends. And her skin glows golden brown in the light of the reception hall.
Forget the toast. I legitimately don’t know if I can get through the word hi. But I rush to meet her, leaving Drew hanging mid-sentence. I don’t know if I should shake her hand or hug her, and if I hug her, should it be a quick friend hug? Or one of those century-long Maddie friend hugs? Or no hug? Do I keep it verbal? I mean, she said talk. Maybe she meant that literally. A nice, collegial, hands-free platonic talk.
She steps closer, close enough for me to really see her expression. I can’t quite decipher it. She’s not flustered—not exactly—but she’s not exactly relaxed.
She shoots me a halting smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I’m trying not to stare. But her cheeks are so pink, and her eyes look extra Disney, and her face is closer than usual.
She’s taller. Just barely. Maybe her shoes. She smells like flowers.
“You look so pretty,” I say softly. “Your hair . . .”
She blushes, nervously fingering the ends. “Thanks—I . . . my friend Shelby has a hair straightener.” Her eyes keep flicking down to my mouth. “You look amazing, Jamie. This whole place is amazing.”
I glance back over my shoulder. “Yeah, the decorations came out really nice. Want to see the ballroom?”
She nods mutely, taking my hand.
But Drew, Felipe, and Nolan intercept us before we can even swing by the gift table. “Maya!” Drew hugs her.
“You look gorgeous,” Felipe says. “Stunning.”
Maya laughs and hugs them back, and suddenly everything’s weirdly, maddeningly normal. Nolan whispers something in Maya’s ear, and she elbows him. “Shut up!”
Felipe takes her hand to lead the way to our table. I have to admit: Mom knocked it out of the park with the reception space. The ceiling’s strung with pastel paper candy necklace medallions, and a giant chalkboard out front reads Sophie’s Sweet Shop. The table numbers are also on chalkboards, surrounded by washi-taped jars of lollipops, chocolate balls, and gummy bears. And there’s a self-serve candy display in Sophie’s after-dinner teen room.
Maya scoots her chair up close beside me. “What a great party theme.”
“Aunt Lauren is an event-planning genius,” says Rachel.
The ballroom fills slowly as people make their way to their tables. Sophie’s holding court near the back, at a long, rectangular table with her friends. I turn to my group, trying to follow along as everyone argues about a serial killer stalker show they all binged last year. But Maya keeps sneaking glances at me, and I keep losing the thread.
“He has your last name.” Felipe pats my shoulder cheerfully.
“Hmm?”
“The murderer.”
I nod distractedly. “Great.”
“Hey, guys!” I look up just as Mom leans over my shoulder. “I’m so glad you all could make it.”
“Thanks for having me,” says Maya.
“Are you kidding? I was hoping Jamie would bring you as his plus-one.”
My plus-one. Mom had to go there—of course she did—and now my cheeks are practically blazing.
But Maya doesn’t correct her.
She’s just staring at me with this searching half smile.
Mom turns to me. “What do you say we give people twenty minutes or so to settle in? Then I’ll do my welcome speech, and we can move into your toast and the challah.”
Maya scoots closer as soon as Mom leaves. “Are you nervous?”
“Kind of.”
“Okay. Come with me.” She grabs her tote bag and tugs me up—and the next thing I know, she’s leading me out of the ballroom. I follow dazedly, reeling from the fact that she’s holding my hand.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. Come on.” We head down the stairs toward the entrance, but instead of leaving the building, Maya takes a sharp left, opening a door off the main lobby. “I saw this on my way in. It’s a coatroom.”
“Where are all the coats?”
“Jamie, it’s July.” She laughs.
And then she shuts the door behind us and locks it.
Holy. Shit. Is she . . . about to kiss me? Are we about to kiss?
But—okay. The toast is in twenty minutes. Less than twenty minutes. Should I set a phone alarm or something?
Maya settles onto the floor, tugging me down beside her. “I brought you something.”
I just look at her, stupefied.
“My mom told me this story about getting stage fright at her wedding. My dad calmed her down by smashing a piece of cake in her face. But,” she adds quickly, “I don’t want to ruin your face.”
“You can ruin it.”
She laughs. “No! You look so . . . nice. Really.”
I look at her. “So do you.”
I swear, every molecule of air in this room feels electric.
“So, I’m not going to smash it in your face,” she says after a moment. She opens her tote bag, revealing a plastic take-out bag from Intermezzo. “But I did bring cake.”
“I love cake,” I say.
Love. Wow. That word just keeps tumbling out today, doesn’t it?
Maya presses her lips together. For a moment, we’re both silent.
“Should we . . . talk about earlier?” I ask.
Maya’s brow knits.
“We don’t have to,” I add quickly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m—”
“Please don’t apologize.” She takes a deep breath. “You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said.”
“I haven’t either.”
“Jamie. I—really like you.” Maya stares at her knees. “So much. I’ve been going crazy all day. I don’t even know how to say this out loud.”
I scoot closer. “You’re doing great.”
“Thanks.” She smiles nervously. “This is just really new for me. You’re my best friend. I’m not supposed to want to kiss my best friend.”