Page 67 of More For Me

I manageto convince my sisters to spend the day together. Presley was supposed to have band practice with our cousins, but I think she senses that I’m close to a freak out, because she cancels. Presleyneverskips band practice.

Over breakfast Santana, Vega, and I try to weasel out as much information as we can about her new love interest. The girl is like a vault when she wants to be, so instead we amuse ourselves coming up with more and more ridiculous stories about the guy’s background.

“Maybe his parents are spies and they have to closely guard their identity.”

“Or maybe they’re in the circus and he’s embarrassed for anyone to see their clown makeup.”

“Maybe you’re all insane,” Presley grumbles. But I think we’re amusing her. Way deep down inside.

After breakfast, we go to our favorite nail salon for mani-pedis. Then we hit up The Grove for some shopping. By two the other girls are starting to lag a bit. “How about a movie?” I suggest. “Or we could take a drive? We could go up to Malibu and—”

“Maybe we should skip all that and you could just tell us what the hell is wrong,” Presley interjects.

“Good call,” Vega says, leaning against my car. “I’m exhausted trying to keep up with you.”

“Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to hang out with—”

“You wanted to hang out with your sisters, blah blah blah, you love us so much,” Presley says. “We get it. Now tell us what’s going on.”

“It’s about Bodhi,” Santana says. “Obviously.”

“It’s not about Bodhi!”

It’s totally about Bodhi. But if I tell them that, they’ll never leave me alone about it. Everyone finally chilled with their matchmaking after our pretend Disney engagement and subsequent break-up, but if I tell them what happened last night, they’ll lose it.

“Can we not have this argument in the middle of a parking lot?” Vega asks. “If I’m going to listen to you lie your face off, I’d rather do it with ice cream in front of me.”

“Ooh, ice cream,” Presley says. “Let’s do that.”

So we drop our shopping bags in the car and walk across the street to a Coldstone. Once we all have our sundaes in hand and are sitting down, Vega points her spoon at me. “Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill.”

“Bullshit.”

I scowl at her. “I liked you better as a sweet little girl.”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Lele. You’re clearly freaking out. I know what a buzzy brain looks like—this isn’t it.”

“You keep zoning out of conversations,” Santana says.

“You haven’t looked at your phone once all day,” Presley adds. “Which is honestly kind of freaky.”

“Something is definitely up with you.”

I jab my spoon into my sundae and mumble, “I’m feeling very confused.”

“About Bodhi,” Vega says.

I glare at her. “Why does everyone think every problem I have relates to Bodhi?”

“Not every problem,” Presley says. “Your extreme annoyingness existed long before you met him.”

“Thanks for that Pres,” I say. “You really know how to make a girl want to confide in you.”

“Forget her,” Vega says. “I want to know what’s going on with Bodhi.”

Don’t tell them that you kissed him, don’t tell them that you kissed him.