“It’s good. Lots of cool bands, food, rain—it feels quite a bit like home,” Isabelle says, raking a hand through her light brown hair streaked with blonde.

“Like home?” Parker scoffs. “You’re forgetting to consider the awesome people here. No one is friendlier than an Oregonian.”

“Or stranger.” Isabelle’s comment is met with laughter. Even my own lips are pulled into a smile before I press them into a firm line and scoot my chair back, drawing everyone’s attention.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you,” Isabelle says, her blue eyes focusing on me.

“This is Lo. She’s a friend of Kash and King’s, and watches Mercedes.” Summer’s introduction has me turning slightly to regard her. She rarely even acknowledges me. “Lo, this is Isabelle. She’s been a long-time family friend.”

“That’s great.” Isabelle’s tone is friendly and sincere.

“It’s nice to meet you.” I still don’t feel relaxed. Whether it’s from fearing for Summer or myself, I’m not sure, but I try my best to make my tone sound welcoming, and for my legs to move closer to the assembled group.

“I have to get going, but let’s get this on real quick.” Mercedes doesn’t hesitate. Her eyes are down, trying to see my drawing before her feet propel her forward.

“How did you do that?” Her eyes slowly drag away from the image and up to me. They’re wide with shock and a happiness that makes the embarrassment from the attention she’s drawing toward me quickly diminish.

“We’ll do a new one tomorrow after we change the bandage. You can pick the design. My professors will love you.”

“Why will they love me?” she asks, tilting her chin to expose the wound already covered with medicine and gauze.

“Because I draw people.” I tear off the strip of tape and carefully apply it to hold the dressing in place. “Plus this is only an inch wide and textured. You’re making me work for it.”

“Show me.” King takes a step forward, craning his neck around to see the bandage. He stares at it for several seconds without blinking. Then Parker moves up beside him, slapping a hand on his shoulder before he stops. Their reactions are what encourage me to believe I can do this. I can survive in this world doing something that I love so deeply.

Parker’s head shakes ever so slightly. “You have a gift.” He swallows and then looks over to me. His lips are set in a serious expression, his eyes bright with a validation that has more value than a paycheck. The girls step closer as well to inspect the hawk with wings spread wide.

“She needed something nearly as beautiful as her while she recovers.” I brush my thumb along the edge to make sure it’s secure and then slides my hand across her back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sorry for the sucky ending,” Mercedes says quietly, her eyes falling.

I shake my head, waiting until she looks at me. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She gives me a sheepish grin that tells me she’s considering my words, and I turn to the others before announcing a final goodbye.

“Hey, Lo, do you have anything going on tomorrow?”

I look to Summer with curiosity churning in my stomach.

“I’d like to meet up with you about the logo. You mentioned that Mexican restaurant downtown. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, what time?”

“How about seven?”

“I’ll see you then.”

“YOU LOOK nervous.”

I turn to face Mia and smile. “I was going to come back and see you!”

“Yeah, well, it’s been over a week since you’ve been by to work on the mural, so I was worried you were here to dine and dash.”

“I know. Don’t worry though; I’ll be here all morning Thursday.”

“I’ll make you chimichangas.”

“With extra guacamole?”

“Don’t get greedy on me, Crosby.”

I laugh, leaning into my seat. “I’ll be around to the back in a few. I’m just meeting someone about a possible work thing.”

“I’ll send up a prayer.” Mia turns and heads to the kitchen, her long red skirt flowing behind her.

I work to settle the comparison of meeting Summer to feeling like I’m about to meet an enemy. We aren’t rivals. I need to find a way to ensure her of that so she understands I’m not going to be an issue, without revealing that I spend more time and attention on Kash simply because he isn’t King.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Summer’s words startle me. Having the person I’m thinking about appear, even when expected, always catches me a little off guard. Her attention is focused to my side, nullifying the sincerity of her apology. She lays a large file on the table and then carefully removes her jacket and purse, and gingerly sets them inside the booth before scooting in beside them.

“I saw your new work today. That fish was pretty cool.” I smile, thinking of the salmon I drew with colored Sharpies for Mercedes’ new bandage shortly before I came here. “I heard you’re also pretty good at drawing in the dirt.”

“I’m better with paper.”

Her focus moves to mine and I see that I’ve caught her off guard. Obviously my lack of confidence and discomfort was as clear to her as it was to me when Kash originally proposed this venture. “Can we clear the air really quick? You know that I don’t like Kash, right? We’re just friends.”

Summer’s eyes narrow with apprehension, and her shoulders square, her spine straightening. It serves to make her appear even more intimidating as I’m sure she intends for it to. “I mean Kash is great and all. I just don’t have feelings for him like that, and I sometimes get the impression that you think I do.” I stare at her for a moment as she listens intently. “He’s just easy to talk to. We get along well.”

“But King isn’t?”

My eyes shift over the same table that I’ve cleared hundreds of times while being on the opposite end of this dining experience. “King’s … I don’t know. He’s just…”

“Hey, Lo!” Relief fills me as I turn to Estella and see her smiling face. She stops in front of our table and her eyebrows furrow as she turns her attention to Summer. “Did you guys want anything?”

“Yeah, um…” I look over at Summer to see her menu is still closed and her eyes are wide, staring at me. “Can we have a few minutes?”

She smiles warmly, nodding her head ever so slightly before turning to another table.

“Oh my God. You’re Lo.” Summer’s voice is a strained whisper.

My eyes tighten, attempting to understand why hers are wide. “What do you mean?”

“You’re Lo,” she repeats quietly, her eyebrows arched.

My heart lurches. There’s no conceivable way … Is there? “I don’t understand.”

“Sorry.” She clears her throat and diverts her attention to the menu. “So what’s good here?”

“What just happened?”

Summer shakes her head as her attention remains focused on reading over the same meals I memorized three years ago. “Nothing. Sorry, I was just … It’s nothing.”

“Who do you think I am?” I insist.

Summer slowly lifts her gaze to mine, searching my face with patience, not slow like an artist does to catch unseen details, more like she’s looking at me for the first time. She clears her throat again and moves a hand to her forehead for support. Her throat moves with a swallow, feeling my stare. “King told me about that party in September, when he met Lo. You’re her. You’re Lo.”

Everything seems to come to a halt as I focus on what she’s just told me. About the fact that she knows about me. That King told someone.

“You don’t … I mean, we don’t have to talk about it. I just didn’t realize … I didn’t know you were her.” Summer’s eyes have gone back to being sharp like her tone, which catches me off guard. If anything, it seems this secret should bring her some relief.

My mouth feels too dry as I swallow and turn my attention to the mural I’ve been working on near the back of the restaurant. A distracted part of my mind that doesn’t ever know how to rest starts questioning the colors I’ve been considering, while the rest of my thoughts go around in a tailspin. “I’m not like that.”