“Why is Wyatt texting you?” Toby asked, her voice was trembling. “Why is he telling you that he misses you and it’s been too long and he needs to see you tonight?”
“Wait, what?” Palmer asked, her jaw dropping open. She looked at Bri. “Is this a joke?”
“I . . . ,” Bri said, looking at me, then back to Toby. “Okay, so . . .”
“You’ve been hooking up with Wyatt?” Toby asked, her voice rising. “My Wyatt?”
“He’s not yours,” Bri said softly, and I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing that we’d talked about how to handle this if Toby found out. How had we not had a contingency plan in place?
“What?” Toby asked, looking like she’d just been punched in the stomach.
“He’s not yours,” Bri said, and I could see she was blinking fast, the way she always did when she was starting to cry but was trying to fight it. “You guys made out once. It’s not like you two were even together—”
“Seriously?” Toby asked, shaking her head. “You’re seriously saying that?”
“Okay,” Palmer said, looking at me, clearly wanting backup. “Let’s—”
“Here’s the thing,” I said in my most soothing voice, taking a step forward. “I think we all just need to take a breath and focus here. If we just—”
“If there was nothing wrong with what you were doing with Wyatt, why didn’t you tell me?” Toby asked, still gripping Bri’s phone. “Why keep it a secret?”
“Because I knew you’d do this,” Bri said, her voice breaking. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”
“So you’ve just been lying,” Toby said, and I could tell that she was still struggling, on some level, to understand what was happening. “You’ve been lying to all of us all summer.”
“It was for the best,” Bri said a little desperately, shooting a look my way. “And it was . . . for all of us. For our friendship . . .” She looked at me again, like she was waiting for me to jump in and fix this. “Andie, tell her.”
Toby whipped around to face me. “You knew about this?”
“I only just found out,” I said. “But—”
“You kept this from me?” Toby asked, her voice breaking. “You lied to me?”
“And me,” Palmer said, shaking her head. “How could you do that?”
“I was just . . . ,” I started. “It was the only thing that made sense. There was no reason for Toby to get hurt if it could be avoided.”
“Oh my god,” Palmer said, shaking her head in disgust. “Don’t try to spin this, Andie. Are you kidding me?”
“That was not your call to make,” Toby yelled at me, her face getting red.
“I just wanted us to stay friends,” I yelled back, and Toby let out a short mocking laugh.
“Well, that worked out really well, didn’t it?”
“Toby—” I started, looking around the group, at all the people who were currently furious at me, willing myself to think fast enough, to figure out how to fix this.
“You were supposed to be my best friend,” Toby said to Bri, and I could see that she was crying now too, tears she tried to wipe away with angry swipes across her face.
“I am,” Bri said, looking up at Toby, her voice anguished.
Toby shook her head and dropped Bri’s phone on the counter. “No,” she said quietly, sounding shattered. “You’re not.” She walked across the lobby, yanking the glass door open and then pausing once she got outside, looking around for a moment before turning right and walking toward the parking lot, her shoulders hunched.
Bri looked down at her phone on the counter, then swallowed hard as she picked it up and put it in her back pocket. “You guys should probably go,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Bri—” Palmer said, but Bri was already talking over her.
“Really. I just want to be alone, okay?” Palmer and I looked at each other, and I knew we were both weighing the same thing—trying to decide if she really meant it, what we should do in this totally uncharted territory. “Please,” Bri said before either of us could come to a decision. “Please just go.”
Palmer gave me a tiny nod, and I took a step toward Bri—not sure what I was even going to say but feeling like I couldn’t just leave like this, without a word. But Bri crossed her arms tightly over her chest and looked down, giving me every indication that she meant what she said—that she wanted to be alone.
Palmer walked toward the door first, and I followed, still a little unable to believe that this had happened, was still happening, right now. It was like a slow-motion car accident that nobody was doing anything to stop. I followed Palmer out the door, out of the air-conditioned theater and into the hot, humid night, the cicadas sounding even louder than usual somehow.
“Toby was my ride,” Palmer said, and I nodded.