After I ran out of the art room on Friday, I couldn't show my face around Justin Yoon ever again. I officially crossed him off the list. Liah took the reins and set up a coffee date with Trent Adamson. Mom let me borrow the car and her black booties that I loved. Liah assured me that being nervous was natural.

According to the cheat sheet she gave me, Trent was a reader and he could play guitar. A bookish musician? If I screwed this up, I'd never forgive myself.

My phone rang as I fought with the janky zipper on the booties. "Corey?" I answered. He was supposed to call five minutes ago. He was placed in the friend category after that moment at school. And as my friend, he looked into Trent a little more deeply for me. He was calling to tell me what he found out (which I hoped was nothing because BOOKISH MUSICIAN!!!).

Only it wasn't Corey's voice on the line. "Uh, no."

"Gray?" I looked at my phone screen to confirm my brother's name was there. Shit.

"Why would Corey be calling you?"

My boot finally zipped and I moved to making sure I had everything I needed in my purse. "Well, we missed you so much we started a support group."

"Funny. What are you doing? I've been texting you."

Lip gloss? Check. House keys? Check. Wallet? Where was my wallet? "I'm getting ready for a date," I mumbled, looking under a pile of laundry on my bed.

"A date?"

Too little, too late, I remembered who I was talking to. "Uh..."

"You're going on a date with Corey?"

"No! No, I'm getting coffee with Trent Adamson." Even if I was going out with Corey, why'd he sound like I told him I was hooking up with a serial killer?

"Trent's been with Veena Forrest since Pre-K."

Liah told me that yesterday. She said there was nothing to worry about since Veena's family moved to another state over the summer. "They broke up months ago."

He chuckled over the line. "You don't just break up with someone you've been with for that long. Cancel it."

Those last two words brought my wallet hunt to a pause. We'd been doing so well. I thought he was done playing Dad. We were supposed to be a team again. Why was he still trying to control my life?

"Why?" I spat, pacing my bedroom. "You've had how many girlfriends? And I can't get a cup of coffee with a boy?"

"Harlow, that's not the point."

"Then what is the point, Grayson?" I could feel my nostrils flare with every angry breath I let out. "Seriously. For years, I let you scare guys away from me and treat me like I was your kid instead of your sister. But guess what? You're not here to stare down my date and intimidate him. So if you have a problem with me having a boyfriend, it's time to get over it."

I hung up and tossed my phone on the bed. My chest rose and fell as I tried to calm myself back down. Of course, he'd call at that exact moment, ruining my mood before the date. Part of me wanted to cancel. Stay home and accept my role as a future cat lady. But I couldn't let Gray win. He wasn't going to ruin things for me anymore.

• • •

Bean There, Done That was a cozy coffee shop that served the best caramel macchiato. The place had a rustic feel to it. The tables and chairs were mismatched, and every corner had a potted plant in it. There were shelves of well loved on one wall and another covered in vines, a small platform below it where they held live performances. A jazzy R&B song played overhead.

Trent waved me over when I stepped through the door. He had been reading a book when I arrived. He had a fresh fade and was dressed in nice jeans and a t-shirt. 

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long." After my argument with Gray, I needed some time to calm down. I sat in the car trying to find the right song to drive to and relax my nerves. It was a Little Mix kind of day.

"Oh, no. I got here early." He nodded to a sign next to the register. "It's open mic night. It fills up quick in here and I wanted us to have good seats."

I'd never been to their open mic night. Or any open mic night, honestly. But it sounded cool. Someone with a shaved head and tattoo sleeves placed two cups of coffee in front of us. mine was a caramel macchiato with a dash of cinnamon, my usual. I looked up at Trent.

"Liah."

Of course. We sipped our coffee and I asked Trent about his book. It was a thick dystopian novel. I was kind of embarrassed to admit I only read romance, but he didn't judge me. We drank and talked, flying through topics like we were old pals catching up.

When the first volunteer performer, a poet, stepped on stage, I was mesmerized by the flow of his words. The pain in his voice as he spoke about the struggle of being Black in America. I had chills when he finished.

"That was incredible," I said, turning back to Trent.

He smiled in a way that made me wonder if he thought I wouldn't enjoy it. "Yeah? I know poetry isn't for everyone."

"If the poetry taught in English was like this, I'd pay attention more."

He laughed. "That's the same thing I said when Vee first brought me here."

I wasn't an expert on dates, but I had a feeling you weren't supposed to bring up your ex.

Trent coughed, cursing under his breath. "Forget I said that."

No. No. No. My brother couldn't be right about this. Trent couldn't still be hung on Veena. I should've glossed over it like he wanted me to. Got back on track to this being the best date I've ever had. I should've changed the subject--books, movies, anything. But I couldn't not know.

"It's fine," I said, taking a sip of coffee in one last attempt to swallow down the question in my throat. No luck. "You were together a long time, right?"

"We don't have to talk about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think that the number one rule when on a date."

"I'm asking."

His eyes met mine, slightly narrowed, like he wasn't sure I meant it. "Officially? We've been together since seventh grade. But our parents were friends since high school. We've always been around each other. Vee was my first...everything."

My romance deprived heart craved whatever emotion Trent felt when he said her name. "Why'd you break up?"

His gaze flicked to me, like he'd forgotten I was sitting there. He poked at the cork coaster on the table. "She didn't want to do the long distance thing. She said she didn't want to hold me back."

The coffee shop boomed with applause. I hadn't noticed another performer took the stage. The blonde girl carried a guitar as she curtsied to the people cheering her on. I turned my attention back to Trent, who stared into his coffee mug like he held the answers to the universe.

"Do you still want to be with her?"

He sputtered, shaking his head. "What? No. That's why I'm here. With you. It's time to move on."

"Your voice went up, like, five octaves," I said teasingly.

He deflated, leaning back in his chair. "It doesn't matter. She made it clear when she left that she didn't want to try."

"Maybe she's just scared."

"You think so?" You'd think I just told him he won the lottery the way his face lit up.

"I do. And I think if you showed her you were serious about making your relationship work, whether you're next door to each other or separated by a million miles, she'd be willing to give it a chance."

He tugged at his ear. "I don't know. How am I supposed to do that?"

My eyes went back to the blonde with the guitar. She sat on a couch at the back of the room with a group of her friends. "I think I have an idea."

• • •

Trent looked nervous as he stood on stage with the borrowed guitar. Sweat beaded at his temples. Either from the stage lights or that he was about to profess his love for his ex-girlfriend to a room full of strangers. He cleared his throat, tugging at his already stretched out collar. I caught his eye, giving him a thumbs up with my free hand, the other holding up his phone to capture the performance.

It took a while to get him on board with my plan. He had every excuse in the book. 

She's not gonna let me use her guitar.

Sign-ups are probably closed by now.

Vee doesn't want to hear from me.

I ruined those first two by securing the guitar--the woman was more than happy to help--and getting his name on the volunteer performer list. Two out of three wasn't bad. He was finally on stage, even if he looked like he was about to melt into the floor.

"Um. H-Hey, I'm Trent." There was polite applause. Then he looked at me, well, his phone. "And this is for Vee." He squeezed his eyes shut, gulped down a breath, and started playing. Not only could he play guitar, but he could sing. If Veena didn't want him, I'd gladly take him. But after seeing his performance, I couldn't imagine her saying no.

By the end of his song, he was way more confident than he was when he first stepped on stage. The applause was a bit more than polite. After he returned the guitar, he joined me back at our table, using a napkin to dab sweat from his forehead.

"That was amazing," I said, handing him his phone.

He seemed genuinely shocked. "Really?"

"Yes, really," I assured him. "Veena is going to love it."

"Thanks, Harlow." His smile faltered a bit. "This is probably the worst date you ever went on, right?"

"I got free coffee, a show, and I possibly reconnected you with your soulmate. This is the best date I've ever been on."

It was sad how true that was.