Page 50 of The Breakup Artists

He chuckles at my joke, wiping egg yolk off the corner of his mouth from an overly big bite. Mom claims she loves to feed August because he eats so enthusiastically. She chalks it up to him being an eighteen-year-old boy, but I know that it was Des who mostly did the cooking when his mother forgot or was too immersed in a painting.

“As long as you don’t get us kicked out of this group because Justin thinks I’m flirting with his girlfriend,” August says, clearly holding a mini grudge over yesterday.

“Cross my heart,” I reply, cringing internally as I copy the motion Bentley made last night. “I’d never compromise us like that. Besides, Ella’s father would have us beheaded.”

He nods, like he’s glad we’re in agreement.

“Which is why”—I push him my notebook, open to a list entitledTiny’s Brilliant Breakup Plan—“we’re going to dothis.”

He puts his half-finished breakfast sandwich down and dusts the crumbs off his hands into the grass, reading my numbered and subnumbered steps. “When did you write this?”

I grin, super satisfied by his surprised tone. “Late last night. Came to me in a flash of inspiration after seeing Justin in action yesterday.” I kiss my fingers and hold my hand in the air like a chef.

August stares at the list. “It’s... effective.”

“Damn right,” I say and bite my bagel piled with cream cheese.

His finger lingers on the page next toSTEP THREE: Call Justin the eff out on pressuring Ella.

“But it’s also risky.” He sounds unsure, not looking nearly as jazzed as I expected.

“August, we have barely more than two weeks to complete this. We need bold; we need different.This”—I point to my plan—“is different.”

“Very.”

“No ‘Tiny, I worship you’ or ‘Wow, that’s the best idea you’ve ever had’?” I take my notebook back. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

“It’s a good idea,” he says like he’s making a concession. “A great one even. It’s just... if this goes wrong, you know they’re gonna hate us, right?”

I laugh. “Then let’s get it right.”

He breaks eye contact with me, pressing his lips together.

And suddenly, it clicks. “Oh. My. God.” I elongate each word.

“What?”

I place my hand over my heart like I’m emotional. “This is epic.”

He gives me side-eye.

“I saw you getting all squirrely last night.” I point at his face. “That look in your eye, the way you were getting so frustrated with Justin. I just never thought...”

He shifts his weight on the bench across from me. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

I grin at him, hard. “You, my friend, have acrush.”

August chokes on his coffee. “Not even close—”

“You totally do. Youlike Ella. You’re not worried that people will hate us—you’ve never cared before—you’re worried thatEllawill hateyou.”

He reverts to his poker face. “You’re obviously hallucinating due to sugar overload.”

But I only stare at him, amazed. “Is it possible? Are pigs flying? Is hell a fancy new ski resort?”

“Tiny,” he objects with a glare, returning to eating his sandwich as though it were suddenly the most important thing ever.

I let out a big, dreamy sigh, resting my cheek on my hand. “Crushes aside, what do you think, Holden McLover—can you get Ella to hang out with you today so we can get this ball rolling?”