The One Who Loves You (Tickled Pink #1)(88)

My heart’s pounding more than it should be, and it doesn’t help when she flicks her gaze back to me, peering at me over her sunglasses as though she can see through me, right to the heart of how much I know what I’m talking about here.

I look back over the lake. “You’re more than your last name, Phoebe. You’re proving it every single day here.”

“Mom wants me to go back to New York with her.”

My heart clenches, and no amount of she’s temporary, idiot will convince it to not panic.

Nor will she’s not the kind of life you want.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to build a new Ferris wheel right next to the old one, just so I can go for a ride and pretend I’m seven years old again, at a fair, asking to go on a Ferris wheel and being told yes this time. That’s what I want. But that’s a really stupid reason to build a Ferris wheel in a town that I might not even stay in much longer.”

“Always wanted to take Bridget up on that Ferris wheel,” I say softly.

Her gaze swings back to me, hidden behind those damn sunglasses again.

“So instead of telling myself no, I should say yes for other people.”

“Might not know who you want to be, but that doesn’t mean you can’t know what you want to do.”

Her lips quiver. “I told you I made my own way in the world, but that’s a lie. Everything I’ve ever done, everything I’ve ever been, it’s all based on my last name. I don’t know—yesterday, I could’ve made a single phone call to put things in motion to build a damn Ferris wheel. And today—today, when I can finally see why, I can’t see how. I know there’s a how. Gigi’s not taking my trust fund. It’s mine. But it’s . . . it’s not. Am I making sense?”

Fuck it.

I lean forward in my seat, go down on my knees, and angle closer to her, getting rid of those damn sunglasses. “Phoebe Lightly, I don’t think you’ve actually met anyone in this town yet if you think your trust fund is the only way to get something done.”

“Because so many people here are sitting on secret nest eggs worth billions?” She gives me half of that damn eyebrow tilt, like she thinks it’s not hers anymore. “You can’t squeeze juice out of a rock.”

“But we can squeeze juice out of Deer Drop.”

A laugh bursts out of her, like it’s surprising her, too, but that’s all I need.

Just to know she can still laugh.

On impulse, I lean in and kiss her.

Can’t help myself.

I like her. I like her drive. I like her wit. I like her devious side, and I like watching her discover her soft side.

I like that she trusts me enough to take me along on her ride.

And I very much like that she’s gripping my shirt in her fist and kissing me back.

Which isn’t something we should do right here in the middle of the lake where anyone can see, even if I’m pretty sure none of the Tickled Pink Papers spies are out and about today.

So I reluctantly pull back, for both our sakes.

“I don’t want to leave,” she whispers.

“So stay. Do good. Find you. One day at a time. You’re having a lot thrown at you. It’s okay to take a while to figure things out. Do it where you feel safe and loved.”

She relaxes her grip on my shirt but doesn’t quite let go while she blinks quickly against shiny eyes. “Thank you for being a good friend.”

Friend.

I have half a clue what that word means to her.

And I hope I’m worthy of it.





Chapter 31


Phoebe


One day at a time.

That was an excellent idea.

It’s been just over a week since Mom dropped one more bombshell on the family. I’m still occasionally numb over the revelation, but my life hasn’t stopped, and I’m slowly coming to grips with what I want my life to be.

With who I want to be.

I’ve spent half my nights at Teague’s place, and even when I’ve stayed at the school, I’ve had actual, honest-to-God, regular hot showers, thanks to Dylan the plumber.

But even better? Which I can’t believe I’m saying, but it’s true—this is better than hot showers.

Tavi and Carter and I have started talking.

Like real people who know how to have real relationships.

Carter’s still annoying and basically purposeless, and I still don’t fully understand why Tavi’s only goal in life is to look pretty on camera until she ages out of the influencer system, but I don’t need to understand.

I think that’s half of what I needed to learn here in Tickled Pink.

Sometimes, you have to go on blind faith that the people around you have your best interests in mind, and you have to have their backs, too, even when you don’t understand them.

So I don’t ask where she’s disappearing to every single night while pretending like she’s not. And while we continue fixing up the school like we’re not a bunch of dysfunctional menaces to society, I ask Carter questions about where he learned to cook and what his dreams are, and I try to understand and practice accepting that no one is who they seem on the outside.

I’m screwing up as much as I’m getting right, but for the first time in my life, I’m trying.