“Burger Barn?”
“They wanted to do a social media thing. Where, like, you take over their Flit accounts for the day? I told them you might want to write some sketches, or, like, mini plays? They seemed really into that; they might do a whole series of webisodes.”
“But you’re the Burger Barn guy. Why would they call . . .” I’m such an idiot. “Wait, you turned them down?”
“You’re the one whose flit got all the attention. You’re the writer. And just think, everyone will notice you, but you won’t even have to be onscreen. Monique said you guys had this application . . .”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Well, I mean . . . yeah.” Kyle looked confused, then grinned mischievously. “Besides, you’re gonna need someone to star in the stuff you write, won’t you?”
I grinned back. Kyle leaned forward and grabbed my hands, setting off thousands of tiny explosions in my fingertips, and my arms, and the pit of my stomach. . . .
“So are we . . . okay?” He leaned in a little closer. Standing on the door frame I was right at his eye level, my outline silhouetted in the green of his eyes.
I smirked a little.
“I guess I’ll give you a second chance. Just this once. You better not waste it, though. I’m not a very forgiving woman.”
“But you have to be, at least for a couple hours,” he said, lips curling into a smile.
“Why?”
“I thought we could go bowling.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I was going to try to be sparklingly clever in my acknowledgments, but I have far too much sincere gratitude to waste time with that, so here goes, from the heart:
Thank you more than I can possibly say to Melissa Miller, without whom this book wouldn’t have been possible. I absolutely won the editor lottery with you, which more than makes up for the fact that I never win real-life raffles.
To Heather Alexander, the most amazing agent a girl has ever known. When I grow up, I want to have your hair. In the meantime, fantastic conversation and the occasional rooftop cocktail are very good substitutes.
To Anica Rissi and Katherine Tegen, for taking a chance on me, and Kelsey Horton, whose keen editing eyes are very much appreciated. To Bethany Reis and Jill Amack for fixing my myriad mistakes. To the HarperCollins subrights team for championing #famous overseas. And to the entire team at Katherine Tegen Books, whose brilliance is unparalleled.
To E. Jean Carroll: without your ceaseless support for me when I was still just an unformed Jilly-shaped lump, I would never have had the courage to keep writing.
To Laurel Snyder, for propping up my self-confidence when I most needed it; Jesse Andrews, for pointing me in a new direction; and Amitav Ghosh, for helping me realize the value in the voice I have, not the one I thought I ought to have.
To Jen Russ, the most patient, thoughtful, and brilliant critique partner in the world: I cannot wait until I see your amazing words in print.
To my fantastic writing group, especially Carrie-Anne DeDeo, Ken Marden, Jillian Melnyk, and Ben Miller, who helped me make this book the best it could be.
To the many brilliant editors who took a chance on me over the years, especially Nicole Cliffe at The Toast, whose matchmaking prowess is no less impressive for being unintentional.
To my family. Mom, you cheered me on every step of the way on a crazy long-shot dream. Claire, Janie, Nicole, Camille, and Jeff: you were my support system and the stand-ins for the therapist I really need to start seeing. Dad, I miss you more than you know. I wish you could be here to see that I listened, and never stopped doing the thing I loved.
To all the friends who have kept me smiling even when I thought this could never happen. I can’t possibly list you all by name, but I love you, even if I generally express that through sarcasm.
To coffee for making anything possible. To Witcher III for providing a much-needed rabbit hole.
And to Zelda and Captain Gentleman, the best colleagues a girl could ever hope for.