In which my teenage dreams swell to the highest heights and burst spectacularly, I learn to date boys I’m not into, and I mistake depression for love.

Excerpt: “It’s a humid night in the dead of summer. I’m in the front passenger seat of a black jeep, music blasting and cruising with the windows down, warm air whipping through my hair. Is there anything quite like being 17—tan legs, jean miniskirt, dirty blonde hair, freckles—rolling around town, nowhere to be, with a boy who makes your heart ache?

 

Except this boy, Luke, is not my boyfriend. My actual boyfriend, Patrick, is on vacation with his family. I’ve managed to persuade myself that I do not, in fact, have feelings for this boy anymore. We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. That’s how he sees me. It’s better this way. But my heart … it’s way happier perched in that jeep than it should be, for a girl allegedly content with someone else.”

 

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