Page 85 of The Boyfriend Goal

I swear he looks at her more like he wants to take her to a room than gift her one.

“We’re doing a photo scavenger hunt,” Fable says, then quickly introduces us to the man. When she’s done, he nods our way. “If you need anything, let me know.”

Then he heads off, a faint hint of expensive cologne trailing behind the mogul of a man.

“Someone has a crush on you,” Maeve mutters under her breath.

“Shut up. He does not,” Fable admonishes.

I clear my throat. “Hate to break it to you, but that man has ‘secret crush’ written all over him.”

“Does not,” she says.

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Fine. I will back down but I reserve the right to say I told you so someday.”

Maeve nods in solidarity. “Double I told you so.”

Fable rolls her eyes, but spins around. “Focus on the prize. We have a two-hour cake countdown.”

We get to work. Fast.

We march past the elegantly arranged bouquets of dahlias in the hallway off the lobby, their petals shimmering in the soft glow of the lighting, then head into the fancy ladies’ room. In front of the mirror, we give our best pouty faces as we snap a mirror selfie. After that, we’re onto the next stop. “Take a picture by a statue,” I read off from the notes.

Maeve screws up the corner of her lips, eyes narrowed. It doesn’t take long though. “Ooh! The giant coffee cup sculpture at Yerba Buena Gardens,” she says, then rattles off details. “It’s part of a temporary art installation. A public art initiative. Ask me how I know.” She wiggles her fingers, urging us to ask.

“How do you know?” Fable says, taking the bait.

“Because I’m obsessed with public art. I want someone to commission me to paint another giant installation. Could be coffee cup murals. Anywhere in the city,” she says wistfully. “Or anything, for that matter.” But then she seems to shake it off. “We’ll have to get there quickly though. So we can get in the cup. The cops aren’t usually there till late.”

I stop, digging my heels in. “What? Cops show up?”

“Yes, but mostly after ten.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Pick another statue.”

“So there’s no do illegal things on your top ten list?” Fable asks wryly.

“Not at all,” I say, and maybe I’m a Goody Two-shoes but it’ll keep us all out of jail, and I fear Maeve could find jail easily on her own.

“Fine. We’ll pose on it, not in it,” Maeve says with an aggrieved huff.

We catch a bus to Yerba Buena Gardens, a multi-block square that includes a playground, lawn, bowling alley, skating rink, and theaters. As the bus rolls down Union Street, Maeve cocks her head my way. “Hey. I just thought of something—is this on your list somewhere?”

“Taking a bus with my girlies?”

“No, doing a photo scavenger hunt. Or taking pics like this?”

I blink, awareness hitting me sharp and fast. Actually…it is. Number five—Take photos of your fun times.

Why hadn’t I thought this girls’ night out activity qualified for the list? A photo scavenger is precisely number five. But it never occurred to me. How did I miss something so obvious? It’s a little embarrassing, frankly.

Because you want to do the list with Wesley.

And I’ve been doing this item with him without realizing it either. I flash back to the pictures Wes and I have taken so far—the photo outside the Bay Area Banter Brigade’s theater, then the pictures on Sunday as we baked and ate. “A record of the list,” I’d said in the kitchen, somehow completely oblivious to the fact that we’d already been doing number five.

We’ve done it so well we could even check it off. We’ve been snapping pics as we go.

But that’s not why I’m embarrassed I missed this girls’ night out as a possible number five. My stomach churns because the list feels like it belongs solely to Wes and me. The list is something I do with him. It’s dating him without the label of dating. Saying that out loud, though, is like cracking open my chest.

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