~23 DAYS TO MUSKOKA~

~JENNA~

My best friend just announced that she hates me.

Okay, no. She didn't actually use those exact words, but she might as well have. She's sitting across from me, with her blonde hair and big blue eyes that make her look like an angelic little doll, meanwhile she's just torn my world in two.

"What do you mean you're moving to Newfoundland? That's over 30 hours away! In a completely different province. A completely different time zone!" The people at the tables next to us in the mall food court send us disapproving glares at my loud tone, so I pull myself together.

"I know, I'm sorry, Jenna," Elena says, fidgeting with the friendship bracelet that matches the one on my wrist. "I know we were supposed to go to Western together in September, and I thought I'd take the safe route with their business degree, but right at the last minute I got the acceptance letter from Memorial University. For marine biology! Do you know how competitive that program is? I applied on a whim because my horoscope encouraged me to, and I got in."

And I'm proud of her. I know how hard she works and studies, and if anyone deserves to get into a competitive undergraduate program to be with the best of the best, it's Elena. But that means she'll be moving to practically the furthest point in Canada from me, and I'm not used to being separated from her.

We've been best friends for four years, since the very first day of ninth grade when our homeroom teacher called on her to read out loud in front of the class, and a girl named Faye had snickered at the way Elena was stumbling over words. I threw an eraser at Faye's head, one of those hard pink rubber ones that rip up your paper instead of erasing anything. Elena had given me a grateful smile when I took over reading for her, and we'd been inseparable ever since.

It's an effort to keep my tone conversational as I ask, "Why can't you just study marine biology at Western? Why do you have to go all the way to the other side of the country to do that?"

Elena's sigh is sad, like she knew that question was coming. "Western doesn't have a marine biology program, and even if they did it would be nothing like what they offer at Memorial. Newfoundland is an island. I'll be getting real, hands-on experience with field work. I'll be on boats, Jenna! Out on the water! That's not possible here."

Fine. That's a valid point. But school starts in five weeks. "How long have you known about this? When did you accept?"

Her shoulders curl in. "April."

"April?" I shriek, practically jumping out of the chair before taking a deep breath and composing myself. When I speak again, it's low and controlled. "That was four months ago. You've known for four months that you weren't coming to school with me, and you're telling me now? The biggest reason I'm even going to Western is because we were going together."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" She holds her hands up, and I realize this is hard for her to confess, but it's getting increasingly hard for me to keep my emotions under control with every detail she discloses. We were supposed to go together. She inhales deeply before saying all in one breath, "Telling you made it real, and I was putting it off until I couldn't anymore and you're throwing me this gorgeous birthday party tomorrow and I didn't want to think about how I'm ditching you but the guilt was eating at me and here we are."

So that explains why we'd woken up early and had a Jenna and Elena day. We'd gotten mani-pedis, then massages, then came to the mall for a shopping spree where she even bought me this adorable mini dress because she said I 'just had to have it'. She claimed the day was to prepare for her birthday tomorrow, but really she was buttering me up before punching me right in the chest.

"So you're really going to leave me?" I say, the words turning my stomach sour as they sink in.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm following my dream."

By leaving me, I repeat in my mind, but outwardly I keep my expression as neutral as I can. I've already let the surprise take me off guard and make me more emotional than I should've been. Even Elena is taken aback by how outwardly expressive I'm being, her wide eyes pinging every which way, unsure of what I'll say next.

"It's not like we won't talk every day," Elena rushes to smooth things over. "I'll be back for summers and breaks! Plus we have all month to hang out and make the most of it while we can."

She blinks her lashes at me, looking through them so hopefully, like I'll have an epiphany and suddenly realize this is the greatest thing to ever happen since the invention of brownies baked inside cookies. And because she looks so hopeful, and she's so excited about the program, and my abandonment issues aren't her problem, and I don't want to have an emotional breakdown in the middle of the food court, I contort my face into something that could pass for a smile.

"You're right. We'll always be friends. I'm happy for you."

She hears the tinge of harshness in my voice, but smiles nonetheless. "We'll make this the best summer ever, you'll see. Me, you, and Martina will be so sick of each other by the end of the month you'll be glad we're leaving the province."

I don't argue with her, locking down all my emotions and ignoring the tension in my chest and the churning in my stomach. We're three best friends going to university in three different provinces in Canada. It was bad enough Martina decided to go to Montreal for school, but being with Elena at Western softened the blow. Now I'll really be alone.

I can feel my mental shield go up, and with it, the perfectly curated mask I always have in place. Instead of replying, I stuff the remains of my chicken wrap in the paper bag it came in, standing to collect the garbage. "I've got to go pick up the cake and some extra stuff for your party tomorrow. Ready to get going?"

She's not expecting anything more from me. Not a teary round of pleading or an intense round of questioning or a huge hugging making up session. Visibly relieved that the composed Jenna she's used to is back, she hooks her arm through mine as we weave through the mall to the exit where we parked. I nod along as she excitedly chatters about how her daily horoscope said she'd reunite with old friends this weekend, which she surmises must be referring to her birthday party tomorrow, but I'm only half listening. Mentally, I'm thinking about all the changes that need to be made, all the shifting that needs to be done now that I'm going to university without my closest friend. I'd requested her for my roommate, but now they're going to put me with some random person. Maybe one of my other friends who's going to Western hasn't requested a roommate yet, and I can room with them.

The stab in my chest tells me that's a shit alternative. They're all just kinda friends, people I talk to and get along with, but not people who make me feel the way I do when I'm with my inner circle. Maybe it's not too late to switch to UofT and be with my cousin, Olivia. But she's already looking at places to rent with her boyfriend, and besides not wanting to be an awkward third wheel, and also the likelihood of a last-minute school transfer probably being completely impossible, I hate Alessio.

The early August heat blasts us as soon as we leave the air-conditioned mall, and I slip on my sunglasses, searching for my car in the packed lot.

"Are the guys coming early tomorrow to help you set up the heavy backdrops?" Elena asks, releasing my arm to rummage through her purse for her own keys. We had to take separate cars because I went to pick up these beautiful pink vintage serving trays I found on a pre-loved selling website, so I met her at the nail salon.

"Kyle and Fletcher are. Robbie's coming later to set up his equipment." Even with the sunglasses on, I can't meet her eyes, keeping my face forward and neutral.

"Perfect. I'll come with sushi for everyone before Martina starts on our makeup," Elena promises, finally grabbing her keys. "See you tomorrow!" She turns to walk backward away from me. "And have I told you lately how awesome you are? Because you are! So awesome. The most awesome. You won't even notice I'm not there with you at Western because everyone will be so blinded by your awesomeness, they won't leave you alone for even a second."

"Yeah, yeah. See you later," I wave her off, turning and stalking to my own car parked in the opposite direction from hers.

What she said isn't true. I let very few people in, and when I do, they have my complete trust, my complete loyalty. I spend more time with Elena, Martina, and the guys, then I do with my own dad. On those days where I'm surrounded by silence in my huge house because my dad is off networking or hard at work, my friends are the ones who bring me joy and laughter, who keep the darkness away.

I get to my car, slipping my hand behind the door handle and pulling, but it remains locked. I pull my hand away a bit, then try again, waiting for the sensor to recognize my keys in my purse and automatically unlock. But it doesn't. I try again and again, but it remains stubbornly locked, like it knows I'm already having a shit day and wants to contribute.

Pushing my sunglasses up on my head to keep my hair out of my face, I fish around in my purse for my keys, but I can't find them.

Shit. Did I lose my keys? Of course I lost my keys, why wouldn't this day keep getting worse?

I drop my shopping bags onto the paved asphalt to free up my hands, then properly dig into my purse, pushing aside lip gloss and receipts and tampons, feeling the frustration and panic building with each passing second. My dad will kill me if I call him and say I'm stranded in the mall parking lot because I lost my keys. Dad's in Vancouver closing a huge sale and won't stop what he's doing to help, and that's if he even answers his phone. But when he finds out I've lost the keys to the BMW, for the second time this summer, he will kill me. He may even take the car away, and I absolutely cannot have that. I need my car, it's my most important possession. Without it, I'm stuck at home, and if I'm stuck at home...

"Come on, you stupid keys!" I rage out loud, turning my purse and dumping its contents on the ground. Gum and change and pens and other useless things clatter to the ground, and I drop to my hands and knees to frantically search through the scattered pile. "You have to be hiding somewhere you motherfu—"

"Jenna?" asks a deep voice from behind me.

"What?" I yell, turning to whoever's unfortunate enough to catch me in the middle of a meltdown. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of som—"

It's the coy smile I see first. Then the straight nose, the brown eyes, the dark eyebrows, the mess of deep brown hair grown out past his ears. My heart beats hard in my chest at the instant recognition. Even though I haven't seen him in four years, I'd recognize him anywhere.

"Hari?" It's a question, but it comes out like an accusation. He pushes the hair out of his face with a masculine hand, and my eyes are drawn to it.

"Yeah," he smiles fully this time, amused, and I notice the gap between his two front teeth that he always hated has been closed, leaving a perfect smile. "It's been a while. You look..." He trails off as he takes in the sight of me on my hands and knees, distraught and sweaty in front of a pile of tampons in the middle of a parking lot.

I take my time getting to my feet, dusting bits of rocks and loose gravel from my hands and where they've dug into my bare knees, pretending to not check him out during the process even though I totally am.

He's obviously older than the last time I saw him on the final day of eighth grade. Taller, with broader shoulders and a sharper jawline and large hands that have no business looking that hot—since when have I been attracted to hands?— and even though he's now a man version of the boy I spent my pre-teen years hating, he's even handsomer than I could've ever imagined. Hotter than I could've imagined. All of the adjectives more than I could've imagined. And that pisses me off to no end. How unfair is it that Hari, the horrible boy from grade school, gets to look like this?

I brace for the insult to come. Stressed, or disheveled, or like a crazy lady yelling in the middle of the parking lot.

He settles on finishing his statement with, "The same," which somehow still feels like an insult, and the way his lip tilts up at the corner is a dead giveaway that it totally was.

"Wish I could say the same for you," I reply, playing along with his insult-them-by-not-outwardly-insulting-them game. "You've... aged."

"Ah, yes. Aging. The thing that happens when you're no longer a scrawny pre-pubescent thirteen-year-old boy and are instead a high school graduate." The British accent is more prominent now that he's saying more than a few words. I forgot just how annoying it was.

That's a lie. It only makes him hotter, which makes me even more irritated.

"I think these were what you were scrambling for?" The hand I wasn't watching run through his hair holds out a set of keys, an oversized fluffy pink pompom dangling from them.

Relief washes over me, the panic at having to tell my dad dissipating into a distant nothingness.

Closing the distance between us, I pretend I don't notice how long and dark his eyelashes are, how smooth and clear his golden-brown skin is. "My keys! You've had them this whole time?"

When I reach for them, he lifts his hand to keep my keys just out of my reach. "No, I was parked over there when I saw someone who looked like the girl who once dumped her entire plate of spaghetti on me when I accidentally got gum in her hair." It wasn't an accident. He and his friends were snickering for weeks about how Hari had gone through with his dare, and I had to cut my hair to get the gum out. I spent the rest of the fourth grade with a short bob cut I hated, which is ironic because now I wear my hair no longer than my shoulders. "Then I happened to see a giant impractical pink pompom keychain land by that car. So in actuality, I haven't had your keys this whole time, just right now."

The agitation that arises every time I've ever talked to Hari is back, and the fact that he's incredibly hot now doesn't soften it. "Give me my keys."

"Ah, good old Jenna. Still as bossy and demanding as ever."

I snatch my keys from his hands. "And you're still a know-it-all who goes out of his way to annoy people."

"Have you ever considered that maybe you're just easily annoyed?" he asks, still seeming incredibly amused and in no rush to leave me alone.

"By you? Yes." I cannot believe it's been four years since he's seen me, and this is the impression I'm leaving. I am always cool and put together— I never even have a chip in my nail polish— and now the boy I spent years arguing with saw me mid meltdown. Great fucking going, Jenna. Pull it together.

As I slyly adjust my short sundress, I ask, "How long have you even been here?"

He crosses his arms and leans against my car, confirming my hunch that he's planning to stay a while. "In Canada? Since last week. Watching you curse out inanimate objects? Only a few minutes. Quite entertaining, actually."

If there was ever a time that I was grateful for my ability to conceal my emotions, it's now. Getting me riled up was always a favorite pastime of Hari's, like a one-sided game that he treasured winning. So even though we're all grown up now and Hari Virani doesn't matter anymore, I vow to keep my composure in front of him for any and all future interactions. I'm Jenna McAndrews, and I am always in control.

"So glad I could provide that entertainment for you," I say, and even though my words are laced with sarcasm, his grin still spreads.

"You're usually pretty entertaining, even when you're not trying. The way your face turns the most delightful shade of red when you're trying really hard not to yell at someone was always fascinating."

I will not yell at him. I will not yell at him. I will not—

"Ah, just like that! Still the exact same shade."

"My face does not turn any shade of red," I say, bending to gather my scattered belongings and chuck them back in my purse.

"Well maybe not to the untrained eye. But I have an intimate history of testing Jenna McAndrew's patience. I know your 'about to lose my shit' face better than anyone, even if you're always trying so hard to be an emotionless robot."

His eyes are still as bright and attentive as always, accurately calling me out even though he hasn't been around in years. I need to change the subject immediately, especially before he notices the acne cream and extra strength deodorant I'm trying to discreetly put back in my shopping bags. "So, you're back in Canada. Are you sticking around for a while?"

"Until the end of the summer, at least," he answers flippantly, like the indecision doesn't matter. "I'm not entirely sure what I'll do after that. I might go back to England; I might stay here."

Hari, here, where he can continue to run into me and get the upper hand in every encounter and make me lose my cool in only the way he can? "You should go back to England."

He huffs a surprised laugh, but a ringing phone cuts off his response.

Hari reaches into his back pocket. "I've got to take this."

"Don't worry about coming back," I reply as he turns to answer the call, giving me a moment to compose myself.

Hastily, I swipe under my lips to check for rogue lip gloss and stick my hands down the top of my dress to try to help my non-existent cleavage. He glances back at me, and I instantly drop my hands, smiling casually at him like I wasn't just trying to mash my boobs together. If I'm going to see my annoying grade school rival for the first time in years, I'm going to look hot dammit!

He shoves the phone back in his pocket. "That was Kyle Barnes, remember him from school? We remained in touch after I moved away. I'm on my way to meet him for lunch. He just let me know he was running late due to traffic."

I'm going to kill Kyle. How could he not tell me Hari was back, and he's been friends with him this whole time? But then again, Kyle's oblivious and never knew how much Hari and I butted heads, and it's not like I have any reason to need the heads up. So I guess I can't kill Kyle even though an irrational part of me still wants to.

"Oh yeah, Kyle's great," I say, standing with my purse and bags.

Hari's had a growth spurt sometime in the last 4 years, because I used to be taller than him, but now at 5'9", I have to look up a bit to meet his eyes once we're standing closer together than we were before.

"He's actually invited me to a party tomorrow. I thought it would be weird if I showed up since people might wonder who the strange Indian kid is, but he said hundreds of kids will be there. You going?"

Okay, now I really want to kill Kyle, but I keep my tone neutral when I answer, "Yes. I'll be there. It's my house and my party."

This information seems to delight Hari to no end, his face lighting up as he says, "How interesting. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

I can't tell him to stay home, or he'll know how much he's affected me. He's waiting for it, itching for the outburst to come like when he'd finally crack my perfectly practiced composure in elementary school. But I'm older now and have had a lot more experience pulling up my mental shield. So I paste on the fakest smile I can manage and say, "Can't wait."