Page 67 of With a Little Luck

“I wish,” I mutter, slamming the notebook shut and rubbing my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Slumber party,” she says, filling a glass from the water pitcher we keep in the fridge. “Pru wanted to keep an eye on the competition, so to speak, so we’ve been watching videos of other contest entries.”

“Have there been any good ones?”

“Oh my gosh,sogood.” Ari slips into the nook across from me. Rather than saying this with a fearful or nervous tone, she seems invigorated. “Even if I’m not a finalist, it would be worth it to go to the festival just to hear some of them perform. I’ve subscribed to so many new channels174tonight.” Her lips twist mischievously as she leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “But between you and me, I think I had the best video. The graphics you made were super cute.”

“I’m glad you liked them. But if you’re a finalist, it will be because your song is great. It has nothing to do with me.”

“We’ll see. A lot of the entries are really great, but … I think I have a chance.”

“Of course you do.”

She wiggles her shoulders, a cute habit she has when she’s proud of herself but trying to be humble. Then she inhales sharply and fixes a curious look on me. “Pru said you were out with Maya tonight?”

I swallow and reach for my pencil again, liking the comfort of its familiar feel in my fingers. “Yeah. We went to the boardwalk. Nothing special.”

“Not every night can be a Sadashiv concert.”

I dig the lead of the pencil into the crease between the notebook’s cover and spine.

“Things are going well?” Ari asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Great.”

Ari tilts her head to one side.

“What?”

“Nothing …,” she says in that annoying way that makes it clear there’ssomething. “It’s just really easy to tell when you’re hiding something.”

The lead on my pencil snaps, and I curse under my breath. “I’m not hiding anything. It’s just weird to talk about this. I mean, Pru doesn’t give us updates on every single date she and Quint go on.”

“No,” says Ari thoughtfully, “but … you can always tell that she’s happy afterward. Really happy.”

Her words strike a tender spot in my chest, bringing back every doubt I’ve felt since leaving Encanto. Since … well, before that. Since forever, I guess.

Something nags at me, whispering and unsure.

I’ve been on two dates with Maya now. I’ve gotten to know her, the175real her, far more in these past weeks than I ever have in all the years we’ve gone to school together, and she’s even more awesome than I thought. Funny and creative and surprisingly easy to talk to. A part of me likes her more than ever.

But it’s a different sort of like. This sort of like isn’t an all-consuming fantasy, bordering on obsession. It isn’t the agonizing knowledge that I could never be worthy of her. It isn’t the bittersweetness of a crush doomed to be unrequited for all eternity.

I like Maya in a way that’s real and tangible and … different than it used to be.

I just can’t figure out what’s different about it.

“Jude?” says Ari. “What is it?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I don’t know. Maya’s great. Really.”

Ari sips at her water, watching me over the rim of the glass.

I scratch the pencil eraser against my scalp. “You know what I think the problem is? Our first date, when we went to the concert … it was perfect. Beyond perfect. And now there’s just a lot of pressure to makeeverythingperfect. But also … where do you go from there? VIP tickets, the limo, meeting Sadashiv. It’s not like I can top that. So we’re just … figuring out what’s normal, I guess. Getting to know each other.”

Ari takes another sip of her water, then looks away. “It takes time.”

“Right? That’s what I keep saying.”

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