Page 96 of Movers and Fakers

“What are you doing?” Jasmine asks.

“Baking?” The word comes out too much like a question.

I abandon my mixing and turn around to face my doom. Jasmine is holding an almost empty can of pumpkin puree, looking from it to me with narrowed eyes.

“Canned pumpkin,” she says, like it’s a weapon in a crime scene. Her eyes scan the kitchen. “Chocolate chips.” A smile stretches wide across her face. “You’re making marriage muffins!” she squeals.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“It’s no big deal. I was just in the mood for them.” My defense is weaker than untrained ankles.

“I have to get the girls,” Jasmine says, not listening to me.

I wouldn’t listen to me either.

She rushes off in the direction of Saylor’s room first, knocking a few times before bursting inside.

“Aurora is making marriage muffins!” she yells. Another high-pitched squeal pierces the air, making me groan.

A few seconds later as Saylor is rushing into the living room in lavender-striped pajamas alongside Jasmine, Marigold’s door opens. She squints, rubbing one eye. Her red curls are escaping the messy bun she attempted to contain them in, and she’s wearing a Thrashers Hockey sweatshirt over navy pajama pants that look too big to belong to her.

“What’s going on, and why is it happening before coffee?” she croaks.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” I say at the same time Saylor shouts, “Marriage muffins!”

Marigold blinks a few times. Processes. Then her sleepy eyes widen, and her head snaps in my direction.

“You’re making marriage muffins?” she asks.

I slump against the archway that leads into the kitchen from the living room and sigh.

“Yes,” I grumble.

Saylor launches herself at me in a remora-style hug, tugging out my earbud in the process. The wires hang down my leg from where my phone is tucked into the pocket of my joggers.

“Please don’t step on my earbuds,” I say as I pat her back awkwardly.

“Oops, sorry.” She releases me and collects the hanging wires, then holds them out like a peace offering. “I can’t believe you’re in love with Hayes!”

I don’t say anything. I did a poor job telling Hayes how I felt; I doubt I’ll do much better relaying the information to my friends.

“Maybe she just really likes him,” Jasmine says, trying to give me an out. She’s probably starting to feel guilty about ambushing me.

Saylor, on the other hand, harbors no such feelings.

“She wouldn’t make the muffins if she liked him.” Her smile is bright and sparkling with mischief. “No, our Aurora is in looooove,” she sings. “She wants to huuuug him, because she loooooves hiiim. She wants to kiiiisss hiiiim—”

Marigold steps up behind Saylor and covers her mouth.

“Thank you,” I say with emphasis, though I feel laughter building in my chest.

I have the weirdest, most ridiculous, wonderful friends.

Who are currently all staring, waiting for an explanation I don’t want to butcher. Maybe simplicity is the way to go. They know me. They know I’m not the best with words all the time.

“I’m in love with him,” I confirm.

Saylor gasps behind Marigold’s hand, which is still in place, though I think it’s there because she froze at my words.