Lost in Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

thought of talking about it made me want to throw up.
    â€œHey,” I say, relieved that I was forced to take a shower and change.
    Brooke folds me into a tight hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she says against my wet hair.
    â€œI didn’t tell anyone except Rosanna and Darcy. But only because they live here.”
    â€œThe comatose body on the couch was pretty hard to miss,” Darcy quips.
    â€œThanks again for calling me,” Brooke tells her. “I wish you would have called me sooner.”
    â€œWe wouldn’t have been able to get her out of the apartment before. She’s ready now.”
    â€œReady for what?” I wonder.
    â€œWe’re going out, just the two of us,” Brooke says. “To Kitchenette. For cupcakes.”
    This makes sense. Brooke is a fellow cupcake addict. She is a big believer in the power of a cupcake to mitigate boy drama.
    Brooke talks to Darcy and Rosanna while I go to my room to get ready. Leaving the apartment feels like something I used to do a million years ago. I stand in front of my dresser, figuring out what to wear. The girl looking back at me in the mirror is a girl I don’t entirely recognize. She looks shell-shocked, a survivor of serious destruction. Sparkly eye shadow and mascara aren’t helping. I run a comb through my wet hair. That’s one thing I love about summer. You can go out with wet hair and it doesn’t matter. People think you just came from the pool.
    Brooke and I take the subway to Kitchenette. She sits next to me in silence the whole ride down. We’ve never been quiet together for this long before. She can tell that I don’t feel like talking yet. But when I do, I know Brooke will listen without judgment. That’s the kind of true friend she is.
    The first thing I realize at Kitchenette is that they’re out of my favorite cupcake. The vanilla rainbow sprinkles ones are always in the same place in the dessert case. There’s abig gap where rainbow sprinkles should be.
    â€œOf course,” I grumble at the gap.
    â€œBut they have peanut butter chocolate,” Brooke points out. She knows why I’m grumbly.
    We settle in at a table with our cupcakes and coffee. I still don’t feel like talking even though we’re totally at home here. There’s a little girl with her mom at the next table. The girl is about three years old. She’s eating a cupcake while her mom yaps away on her phone. Doesn’t her mom realize this time is fleeting? That her little girl will be grown up before she knows it? If I were that girl’s mom, I would be fully focused on her. Or if I were that girl’s big sister.
    I had a chance to be a big sister. That chance was taken away from me. Those two guys arguing on the subway . . . one of them pushing the other, who shoved my pregnant mom so hard she fell. . . . The scene replays against my resistance for the billionth time.
    My stomach twists in knots. Any hint of an appetite is gone.
    Brooke is concerned. Typically I would be on my second cupcake by now.
    â€œI made you something,” Brooke says. She reaches into her bag on the chair next to her and pulls out a bright yellow origami flower. Flowing script in orange glitter pen spirals on each flower petal.
    â€œA warm fuzzy?” I ask. My throat gets tight. Brookewas so cynical when I met her. She scoffed at the first warm fuzzy I gave her, assuming I had some ulterior motive. Now she not only gets warm fuzzies, she made one for me.
    â€œI learned from the best,” Brooke says.
    My eyes well up with tears. It takes every bit of energy I have not to start bawling in the middle of Kitchenette.
    â€œThank you,” I manage to say. “And thanks for getting me out of the apartment. Sorry to be such a drag.”
    â€œNo apologies allowed. Austin is the one who should be apologizing.”
    â€œHe did. I didn’t want to hear it.”
    â€œI’m so sorry