Page 9 of The Breakup Artists

I know there’s no rush, but I hop out of the Jeep anyway, ready to get started.

“Wait!” Tiny says as my feet hit the pavement, and she yanks a worn rainbow notebook out of her bag, flipping it open to the first list she made when we decided to start Summer Love Inc.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

1) Approach the subject person in a group, gaining interest without putting pressure on thesubjectperson

2) Hook an invite to a party or something social from thesubject’sperson’s friend (No Flirting! It’ll cause drama)

3) Build trust and create a bond with thesubjectperson by talking to them about things they care about

She holds up the notebook. “Kiss it for good luck,” she says, leaning over the center console.

“Definitely no.”

She shrugs and kisses it herself. “Fine, but bring me an iced mocha if you want to continue this friendship!” she yells after me as I walk away.

The sidewalk is full of chatting families and people eating at outdoor brunch tables. The Saturday energy is contagious, and I feel myself standing a little taller as I breathe in the salty air.

I step around a shaggy dog on the curb and grab the door to the Beach Brew. The bells on the door chime, and I’m greeted with the scent of pastry dough, warm chocolate, and coffee. I scan the small, popular café, decked out with driftwood and a mosaic made of shells. Most of the seats are taken, except for a couple of stools by the window and a four-top.

The corners of my mouth pull up as I formulate the beginning of a plan. I plop the newspaper and my phone down on the four-top and walk to the counter, ordering from the disinterested guy behind the counter, who sports black suspenders and tight jeans. He looks markedly out of place in the nautical-themed café, like a blaring reminder that sand gets caught in unwanted places if you wear the wrong clothes to the beach.

I shift to the part of the counter where the drinks come out, keeping an eye on the window and reviewing what I know about Ella.

“Holden,” the suspendered dude announces unenthusiastically and places an iced mocha and a black coffee on the counter. As I grab the drinks, three girls walk up to the café door—one with a blond bob and a strut, who I know from my research is Amber, the talkative, self-proclaimed leader of the group; a tall girl with box braids woven into a high bun named Leah, the most confident of the three; and Ella, with her wavy brown hair falling down the middle of her back and an exhausted look.

I take my drinks and slide into a seat at the four-top, pulling out my phone.

Me

They’re here.

Tiny

Dun dun dun!!!

Aaalso, have you realized the genius of the newspaper yet???

Me

Shhhh

Tiny

Never

If (read when) you lose this bet, I’m making you take me to Bob’s for lunch. Shush that, Holden McDreamy!

It’s guaranteed that everyone from our school will be at Bob’s Beachfront Diner for lunch, where they can conveniently go from eating fries and strutting to jumping in the ocean and then strutting some more.

I look up when I don’t hear the door chime as expected, and find the three girls stopped on the sidewalk. But instead of coming in with Ella, Amber and Leah continue down the sidewalk.

Damn it. Engagement rule number one—approach a subject in a group.

Me

Ella is solo.