Chapter Six

"Thank you, Sana. You're a genius, Sana. Here's your Pulitzer Prize for excellent journalism and unparalleled friendship, Sana."

I raise my eyebrows at Sana, who is currently draped over my front counter and singing her own praises with her ancient MacBook cradled like a baby in her arms.

I bop her on the forehead with my open palm. "We're just going to wait for it to blow over."

"Or. Or ," Sana counters for about the fiftieth time today, "you lean into this mess. You and Levi pretend to date. You let me cover the whole thing. Tea Tide stays jam-packed and I make enough money to move out of a glorified attic and we all live happily ever after."

I turn toward the display case I'm wiping down so Sana doesn't see my sympathetic wince. Sana used to travel as often as I did, buoyed by a steady freelance gig at a frothy lifestyle site. Then new management came in with a whole new vision. She was already considering quitting—the higher-ups seemed a little too interested in mining her identity as an Asian American woman for potential content, and she realized it was happening to other writers, too—but before the new tone of the site was formally discussed, they abruptly fired all the contractors, leaving them high and dry.

Professionally, she was almost relieved. She wanted to be writing cultural commentary and human-interest pieces she pitched herself, and she took it as a wake-up call from the universe to pursue Fizzle . But financially, in her own words, she was "mega fucked." I told her offhand about one of Nancy's cheap rentals, and to my surprise, she showed up in Benson Beach with an Uber full of suitcases the next day.

Now I live in the tiny apartment on top of Tea Tide, Sana lives in the even tinier apartment on top of the restaurant next door, and we've been going through it together every day since: me learning the ropes of owning a small business, and Sana trying to support herself with a rotation of freelance gigs while she's waiting for the breakout piece to get Fizzle to hire her on staff. Hence why we are primarily existing off day-old scones and half-baked dreams.

We both flinch at the sound of a knock at the door.

"She's closed, you animals!" Sana calls. "I ate the last scone an hour ago!"

But even in the dark, I recognize the unmistakable outline of Levi. I dart out from behind the register, unlocking the door to let him in.

"Hey," he says the moment I push it open. "I just wanted to check in. I walked by earlier and it seemed… intense."

The store was, in fact, crowded enough today to make Coachella look tame. We sold out of all five emergency bakes of scones and sold enough tea that we are dangerously low on Tea Tide's signature tea blend of Darjeeling, rose, and caramel. I'm pretty sure I'll be scrubbing Annie's pretty pink floors for a week to get them fully clean again.

But at least this time around, I don't mind it so much—getting peppered with questions about Levi's pecs is a lot less humiliating than getting asked if I could openly weep on demand for a selfie.

"Intense is a good word for it," I say, some of the exhaustion creeping into my voice.

"Oh, it's you," Sana crows happily. "Excellent. You'll make June see sense."

Levi's concerned eyes turn from me to Sana. "About what?"

Sana clears her throat and begins another version of her elevator pitch.

"Okay, so here's the thing, Revenge Ex #2. Can I call you Revenge Ex #2? Good, because it's got a ring to it." Sana spreads her arms out as if she is painting a picture for Levi in the air between us. "Imagine this. The two of you go on a bunch of sickeningly adorable fake dates. June keeps this absurd scone momentum going, and hooray! Saves Tea Tide. You both show your exes what they're missing, because hot damn to you both. And I make a quick chunk of change as your exclusive photographer so I can use my valuable time working on pitches. Everybody thrives, everybody stays hot, and everybody scams free scones off June."

"Forgive her," I say, before Levi's brain can combust. "She's had, like, ten cups of oolong."

But Levi absorbs all of this with ease.

"Okay," he says. "I'm in."

My mouth drops open.

"Wait. Levi, I appreciate it. But my situation is not that dire. I'll figure out a way to get the money for Tea Tide without us milking this," I say in a rush.

Levi looks away. "I know that. And I do want to help Tea Tide." He delivers the next words more to my newly mopped floor than to either of us. "But I think this would also help the situation with Kelly."

I don't answer for a moment, only because I am struggling to figure out an interpretation of "situation" that doesn't equate to "Kelly seems like she is taking advantage of all the best parts of you, and it makes me feel sick."

And even if that weren't an element at play, I don't want Levi going along with this plan for my sake. I've prided myself on being able to keep Tea Tide's lights on all on my own. Sure, it isn't quite what I'd hoped it would be—not the cozy neighborhood spot I envisioned. One that became so beloved here that maybe someday I'd even be able to open locations in other seaside towns, shaped by their own communities.

But I can still get there. Once we get past these huge rushes of people and I have a chance to breathe, it can be less of a circus and more of the homey, safe place I imagined. And I don't want Levi thinking I need his help to do it.

In the end, I compromise by asking, "Are you sure that's a situation you want… resolved?"

Levi won't look at either of us. "I think it might help her remember what we have together, if she thinks she could actually lose it."

The hurt in me is so acute, so immediate, that I don't know how to place it. Or maybe it's just that it feels closer to jealousy than I'm willing to admit.

My eyes search for Levi's, hoping to get to the bottom of the feeling—to reassure myself that it's just a knee-jerk reaction, a symptom of us knowing each other for so long. But his gaze is still aimed firmly at the ground. Instead, my eyes land on Sana's. Hers go wide enough that I know she didn't miss the moment of weakness in mine.

She takes a breath, and I know she's using it to call this whole thing off. She desperately wants out of the freelance grind, but not at my expense.

But she's right. This idea she's proposing—it is objectively the best option for all of us. I'll get three months' worth of rent before the end of this one. Sana will get cash to float herself while she polishes her pieces. Levi will get back the woman he loves.

And I will stuff this unwelcome hurt so far back into a "return to sender" box that I won't even remember opening it.

I put my hands on the backs of one of the chairs as if to root myself. "Let's do it, then."

My voice is so firm that Levi looks up in surprise. "Yeah?"

Now it's Levi searching my face. I nod quietly at him. The concern in his eyes mingles with a gratitude and a relief so intense that it calms my lingering doubt. In fact, when I catch Sana's gaze and we exchange small smirks, I feel a quick but undeniable jolt—this could be fun.

"Yeah," I say gamely. "The universe messed with us enough these past few weeks. We deserve to mess with it right back."

"Then it's settled. Excellent." Sana scowls at her phone, then jumps up from her perch on the counter to start collecting her stuff. "I have a deadline. But you two should talk logistics."

Levi's brow puckers. "We just did."

I nod quickly. "All set."

Sana frowns right back, looking at Levi and then at me. "Haven't the two of you ever watched a rom-com before? If you're going for the fake dating trope, you'll need a plan. You'll need rules."

Off our blank looks, Sana heaves a long-suffering sigh and sets her backpack down.

"You need to decide what kind of Instagram-bait outings you'll take together. What you'll say when people inevitably ask you questions about each other. Plus, like, protocol on the actual romantic bits." Sana starts listing off intimate gestures with the nonchalance of someone who has orchestrated a dozen other relationship ruses. "Hand-holding, snuggling, kissing, getting all lovey-dovey. If there's anything on or off the table, you're going to have to include it in this break-up pact of yours."

My cheeks flush. At some point in Sana's little lecture, I stopped listening and started imagining. The warmth of Levi's broad hand in mine. The way it might feel to burrow myself against him, breathing in the crook of his neck. What he might taste like, where his hands might wander, if we actually kissed.

"Got it?" Sana asks, her attention pointedly aimed at me.

"Right," I manage, just as Levi lets out a quick "Of course."

"You'll also have to diligently loop me in on your plans so I can document them." She taps her computer with one of her bright red nails. "I'm the one here with a finger on the pulse of your mildly unhinged fan base. I'll figure out which outlets to send material to and when. All you guys have to do is eat scones and look pretty."

This is all happening so fast that I think I might have main character whiplash. Yesterday, Levi and I were sad B-characters in other people's romances. Now we're hijacking the stage.

Before I can overthink it and ask a dozen more questions, Sana hoists her backpack and blows us a sloppy, wide-armed kiss on her way out the door. "Text me details for the first fake date. I have no plans. I'm around literally every moment of every day. Weird how that sounded less pathetic in my head! Good night!"

The bell on the door clangs and leaves a tense silence in its wake. I'm half expecting Levi to come to his senses and call this whole thing off. He wasn't built for this. He's so wary of attention that even when we were teenagers and he and Annie were talking about writing bestsellers one day, he swore he'd write under a pseudonym.

But he must really want Kelly back, because when he clears his throat, he seems as determined now as he was a few minutes ago.

"Well. I also have no plans, and you're tied down here," says Levi. "So let me know when you're free, and I'll figure out someplace we can go."

I take a step back to lean into the edge of the front counter, leveling with him.

"That's sweet. And I want to trust you with that task. But know that if you take me to another scream poetry reading, I will fake break up with you so loudly they'll think I'm in the performance lineup."

Levi lets out a sharp, gratifying laugh. "I swear I thought the flier said slam poetry."

My lips curl as I remember the look of absolute bone-deep alarm on Levi's face when the first poet took the stage and started bellowing about her cat sitter ghosting her at the top of her lungs. That was the last Friday night Levi was allowed to pick where we all hung out for a long time.

"Sorry, what?" I lean in closer. "I can't hear you. My ears are still ringing."

Levi leans in to meet me, and I think he's going to say something teasing. But his tone is nothing but sincere when he says, "Fake dating aside, it'll be nice to hang out again like we used to."

Levi's smile settles, and something in my chest does, too. We'll be fine. This friendship we have now might feel fragile, but that doesn't make the foundation of it any less deep. The world will think we're dating, but in reality, we'll just be finding our way back to what we once were—Levi and June, two people who shared friends and made-up stories and long runs on the beach. In some ways, that alone makes this worth it.

Then Levi shifts his weight to his other foot. "Sana's right, though. We should talk rules."

My eyes sweep to the floor. "I don't think we need to make any."

The thing is, if we set rules, it's only going to make this seem like a bigger deal than it is. Like we'd be taking a microscope to every gesture between us, every touch. And I can't have that. This is about saving Tea Tide. This is about Levi fixing his relationship. The more we focus on the intangible things, the less personal the extremely tangible touching will feel.

"I'd just worry about doing anything that might make you uncomfortable," Levi says carefully.

Ah. He's worried about sixteen-year-old swoony June coming out to play and getting her little heart crushed all over again. It would be a down-and-out lie to pretend I'm not attracted to Levi—the thoughts I keep having about him every time he gets close are absurdly too loud to ignore—but I am a twenty-seven-year-old woman in full possession of myself. I can set aside some biological rumblings for common sense. And common sense says even if Levi weren't trying to win Kelly back, he doesn't belong here. Not in Benson Beach, not in the old stories we used to make up together, and certainly not with me.

"How about this?" I propose. "Instead of rules, we just promise to be honest with each other. If one of us is uncomfortable, we just say so. And if either of us wants to call this whole charade quits, we drop it—no harm, no foul."

Only after I say the words do I realize the deeper root of my unease. It's not the pressure of playing this trick with Levi—it's whatever comes after. We've only just started to repair our friendship. If this goes south, it might set us back all over again.

But if we walk away from it, we both have a lot more on the line than we're prepared to lose.

Levi considers me with a long, searching look, as if he is considering this exact risk. I flush under the weight of his eyes on me but hold them with my own. Then he reaches out and puts a steady hand on my arm, the warmth of it tingling against my skin so immediately that some distant part of my brain thinks, Oh, shit.

"I'll text you the address for scream poetry tomorrow."

The grin that erupts on my face seems to spread right into Levi's, whose eyes crinkle with delight.

"Perfect," I say. "I'll be the one in the giant earmuffs holding a warrant for your arrest."

Levi nods. "It's a date."

The words are still rattling between my ears as he leaves, the full impact of them settling in. It's a date. It's a pact. It's a new chance.

But more than that, it's something to feel . Something other than brewing panic or gnawing guilt or grief. Something electric, something that gives energy instead of draining it; something I want to know the shape of so I can hold on to it even when it's gone.

For the first time in a long time, I go to the back kitchen, sit down with my ingredients, and scheme.