Instead of going inside, Justin leads me to the backyard. His mom has a small garden with a bench. He takes me there.

“Samoa for your thoughts,” he says, pulling open the box and the plastic.

“My only thought is: I want a Samoa,” I tell him.

“Here,” he says, putting one between his teeth. I lean in and snatch it up.

“Yum,” I say, mouth full.

He pops one into his own mouth. “Yeah, yum,” he agrees, some coconut falling into the air between us. After he swallows, he says, “I imagine we taste the same right now.”

I smile. “I imagine we’re both pretty coconutty. And chocolatey. And caramelly.”

“There’s only one way to know for sure.”

He goes in for the kiss and I let him take it. I tell myself this is what I want. Just like the ocean. Just like a couple.

He pulls away. “Yum.”

“Give me another.”

He presses in for another kiss. I push him away and say, “I meant another cookie.” He laughs. I appreciate the laugh.

Instead of insisting on the kiss, he passes me the box of cookies. I take two.

They’re really good, much better than I remembered them being. Sweet and rough.

“Don’t get too hooked,” Justin warns. “That’s how Mia gets you. Before you know it, you’re preordering by the dozens. And then, even worse, you’re insisting that they be refrigerated.”

“You speak like someone who knows. I’ll bet your fridge is full of Thin Mints.”

“Oh, no. It’s worse than that. I only eat the fat mints now.”

Why are you in such a good mood? I want to ask him. And then I want to ask myself, Why do you have to question this?

“Wanna see my stash?” he asks.

“I’ve already seen your stash.”

“And what do you think?”

“It’s huge.”

We’re being silly, but that’s nice. Even though we’ve been together for a while, it’s still nice to flirt, and to feel the lightness of flirting.

I don’t want to tell him I can’t stay long. I know that will make it less exciting than it was a minute ago.

So I don’t say anything. But I also don’t make a move to go inside. I kiss him here, on the bench. I kiss him here and feel awful because one of the reasons I am kissing him here is because I know it’ll be easier to leave if we’re already outside.

He doesn’t sense it, though. He is kissing me back. He is happy. He is sure to move the precious box of cookies out of our way as we crash into each other.

I begin to convince myself that this is what I want. This is where I am meant to be. I am only going to see A in order to get the explanation. But that is not my life. This is my life. Justin is my life.

I get there late. I’ve had an hour to straighten myself out, calm myself down, make myself appear to be a girl who has not just spent an hour making out with her boyfriend. I’ve also been thinking of questions to ask, ways to know whether what A is saying is true. I mean, it can’t be true. But I’m looking for ways to prove that.

When I get to the Starbucks, I’m expecting the girl from yesterday to be there. Or Nathan. Someone to tell me, ha ha, it was a joke. But neither of them is there. Instead, there’s this guy—a big football player of a guy. Not my type. Almost scary in his size. But he looks gentle when he waves to me.

Again, my perspective changes when I look into his eyes. All the assumptions fall away.

I take a deep breath. I know I need to settle this. I try to remember my plan.

“Okay,” I say as soon as I get to his table and sit down. “Before we say another word, I want to see your phone. I want to see every single call you’ve made in the past week, and every single call you received. If this isn’t some big joke, then you have nothing to hide.”

I can’t imagine that after being with me so sweetly, Justin would have set this up. But I want to make sure his number isn’t on the phone. I want to see if there are any texts or calls on there from yesterday.

I search around. I look at the contacts. I don’t find any phone calls from yesterday. The two texts are from friends of his. There’s nothing about me anywhere.

So there’s that.

I hand back the phone and tell him it’s time for me to quiz him. I start by asking what I was wearing that day on the beach.

Worry flashes in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says after half a minute. “Do you remember what Justin was wearing?”

I try to remember. But what I remember instead is the feeling, the wonder of it all. Not the clothes.

“Good point,” I say. “Did we make out?”

He shakes his head. “We used the make-out blanket, but we didn’t make out. We kissed. And that was enough.”

I note his use of the phrase make-out blanket. And the fact that he doesn’t make too much of a deal of it.

“And what did I say to you before I left the car?” I ask.

“ ‘That’s the nice note.’ ”

“Correct. Quick, what’s Steve’s girlfriend’s name?”

“Stephanie.”

“And what time did the party end?”

“Eleven-fifteen.”

“And when you were in the body of that girl who I took to all of my classes, what did the note you passed me say?”

“Something like, The classes here are just as boring as in the school I’m going to now.”