eight
CALISTA
My knee bounces, my heart races, and sweat pools along my hairline as I sit in Dough Me, a pizza place at the edge of Lake Starlight.
“This is completely unnecessary,” I say to Aubrey, who sits across the booth from me.
“I know, this was Declan’s idea and I hate to tell you this, but I kind of agree with him. It’s just pizza.” She’s looking at her phone’s camera and putting on lip gloss.
Meanwhile, I’m in jeans and a sweater that I’ve owned since college, my hair thrown up in a ponytail.
“You could’ve at least told me before I got here so I could’ve”—I run my hand down my ponytail—“looked decent.”
“You look beautiful as always, and had I told you before, you wouldn’t have come.” She raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow and I roll my eyes because she’s right.
I’ve alrea
