Page 2 of One True Loves

“It’s online,” she says, reading my mind. “Public knowledge. Anyone could find it. Not weird at all. Here, let me send you something... it’s gonna take me a minute to find it though.”

Her eyebrows press together as she types and scrolls on her phone, and I use this break in the nonsense to gather the rest of my outfit: gold starburst earrings, metallic pumps with embroidered block heels, a beaded purse that I picked up at an estatesale last week, and my leather jacket draped over my arm in case it gets cold later. I take it all in through Tessa’s mirror, confirming what I already know: this look is guh-ood. Two syllables good. I hope it goes well with whatever Jay picked out. We didn’t coordinate or anything because it’s not like that. Like, not at all. But it would be cool if it worked out anyway.

My phone pings, and I feel this irritating flutter in my chest. Is that him finally? But Tessa chases that stupid thought away.

“Okay, I’m going to preface this by saying this is really old and way cheesy, but if you don’t have time to read a book—” She pauses to give me a look that makes it clear what she thinks of my excuse. “—this is the next best thing. It’s the first thing I thought of, honestly.”

I open up her message to see a YouTube link. The preview shows a movie poster with a blond girl holding a suitcase and standing on her tiptoes for no damn reason.

“What is this? Did it come out before we were born?”

“Yeah, but it’s still good. See, this girl goes on a class trip to Rome—whichison your itinerary—and there’s this pop star who looks just like her, but she’s missing—”

“Was she murdered?”

“No, it’s not that type of movie. But then she meets this guy named Paolo—”

“Did he murder her?”

“No... you know, actually, now that I’m remembering it, she doesn’t end up with the Italian guy in the end because he’s evil or something. Here, wait, let me send you something else.”

My phone pings a few seconds later, with a link to another old-ass movie. A badly photoshopped picture of two more blond girls posing in front of the Italian flag.

“See, this is some white girl shit,” I say, before Tessa can even tell me the ridiculous plot of this one. I take a deep breath and toss my phone on the bed. “Nobody’s gonna be checking for me when I’m on some boring tour with my family. No European boy is gonna go all ooh-la-la and drive me away on his moped to get baguettes and gelato. Not everyone gets some happy ending all wrapped up in a bow. That stuff is for your movies and your books, but not for real life, Tessa. At least not for me.”

All I get is secret prom dates and unanswered texts, I add to myself, swallowing down something tight and sharp in my throat.

Tessa maneuvers around the piles of books, her dressswish-swishing. Her eyebrows press together, and she grabs both of my hands in hers. “That’s not true.Everyonedeserves a happy ending. Especially you, Lenore. You are the kindest, coolest person I know, and the right guy is gonna be drawn to that like a magnet.”

This type of Hallmark-movie speak is Tessa’s brand. She’s earnest. I’m talking Taylor Swift before she discovered snakes earnest. Like, two a.m., kissing in the rain, alllllll that shit. But she actuallybelieveswhat she’s saying, so you can’t even hate her for it. And at least she usually uses it for good: these beautiful love stories starring Black girls like us that have earned her a fairly large fan base online—oh, and admission into UCI’screative writing program this fall.

“Whoa, what is going on here?” Our friend Theo is standing in the doorway, an expression of concern on his face as he surveys the mess. His black hair is slicked back, and he looks all debonair in a pinstripe suit, baby-blue button-up, and floral bow tie. “Did you finally snap, Tessa?”

“No, we’re planning how Lenore’s going to have an epic love affair with an Italian boy named something sexy like Enzo on her cruise this summer,” she says matter-of-factly.

Theo looks me up and down, barely holding in his smirk. “Love that for you.”

“See?” she says, widening her eyes in her signatureI told you soface. “Now, can you stop being difficult and just agree to watch this stuff? We need to get ready!”

As if I’m the one who’s been holding us up. Honestly, I’d want to punch her if I didn’t love her so much.

I shake my head. “Yeah, whatever.”

I want life to be the way Tessa sees it. Really, I do. I want an epic kiss while the credits roll, happily ever after. And having that happen in Italy or Greece or France or Spain—all the stops on this cruise my parents planned—would be magical. I’m not too jaded to imagine myself sipping espresso at a café with a handsome boy. Or long walks hand in hand through mazes of blindingly white buildings, while the sun goes down over the bright blue sea. I mean, come on. My heart isn’t completely shriveled up.

But also, what if I don’t need all that? What if I’ve alreadyfound my love story, and it just doesn’t look all mushy gushy like the stuff of Tessa’s love stories? That doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

I can’t say this out loud to her, of course. I can already see their reactions now, the usual ones when I bring up Jay. Tessa’s judge-y look, masquerading as concern, and Theo raising his top lip like he’s smelled something funky. I don’t want to deal with all that right now. And anyway, Theo has moved on from my love woes to his own.

“—and I wasn’t sure if I should buy it because the rules are unclear, you know? Who buys the boutonnieres? If both of us do, they might not match. And that could be interesting... but then what if he’d rather have a corsage?”

It’s weird seeing him like this. Usually he talks like a cross between a robot and a butler from a PBS show, all proper and shit. But right now his tan skin is turning pink, and he’s all twitchy and nervous. It’s really cute, but he would totally roll his eyes if I said that out loud.

“Why didn’t you ask him what he wanted?” Tessa asked, switching her laser focus to him. This kinda stuff is her jam, and I’m glad Theo is taking the spotlight off me.

“Because I didn’t want to stress him out about it,” Theo says, adjusting his bow tie for the tenth time. “With... everything already going on with his parents? I just want it to be a good night for him. A happy memory.”

I feel a pang in my chest, seeing the hurt on Theo’s face. Theo’s been out to his parents since middle school, and they’re all about it. Like, marching in the Pride parade downtown inmatching rainbow tutus all about it. But Lavon, his boyfriend, just came out to his parents this year, and it didn’t go well. They’ve pretty much pretended that it didn’t happen at all. And when he told them he was going to prom with his serious, long-term boyfriend, they told him he could do what he liked, but they didn’t want to hear about it any further.

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