XIII

Solené Beckett

"No, don't do that restaurant. It's totally overrated," August said, crossing her arms as we sifted through the endless list of options.

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. The pressure of planning this date with Summer was starting to weigh on me. I had already gone back and forth a dozen times, trying to decide what would make the best impression without feeling like I was trying too hard.

It was all a little impulsive, agreeing to a date like this. But if I'm being honest, I don't regret it for a second. Summer had this magnetic pull, this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. She moved at her own pace—slow, steady, deliberate—and I was just hoping this date might bring us one step closer to wherever she was headed.

"How about I just set something up at my place?" I said finally, the idea taking root as I spoke.

"Something like what?" Spencer asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

I started pacing, letting the thoughts spill out as they came. "I could cook us dinner—something simple but thoughtful. Then, I could dim the lights, light some candles, maybe throw in some red roses to set the mood. And for afterward, I could fix up the backyard, set up the movie projector... Oh! We could sit on those inflatable chairs in the pool while watching the movie. It'd be casual but still romantic."

Spencer raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. But it was August who let out a sharp laugh. "Wow, that's the best idea you've had all night!" she teased, flashing me a grin.

I shot her a glare and flipped her off without missing a beat. "Spencer, can you tell your girlfriend to leave me alone?" I said, though even I couldn't keep the edge of amusement out of my voice.

August just chuckled, leaning back into Spencer's arms.

"If you're serious about this, we'd better get moving," Spencer said, her tone shifting to something more practical. "What time did you tell Summer you'd pick her up?"

"Around seven," I replied, glancing at the clock. Time was already slipping away. If I was going to pull this off, I'd need to hustle.

Spencer glanced at her watch and whistled. "Then you've got, what, five hours? Good luck with that, genius."

I frowned. Five hours didn't sound like enough time for what I was envisioning, but there was no way I was backing out now.

"August, you're coming with me," I said, grabbing my jacket.

Her brows shot up in mock offense. "Why me?"

"Because Spencer can't cook to save her life, and you're better at arranging things without making them look like an accident waiting to happen," I shot back.

Spencer smirked. "She's not wrong."

"Fine," August huffed, rolling her eyes. "But you owe me. If this crashes and burns, I'm not responsible."

"It won't," I said, more to myself than to her.

We left Spencer at the house to grab supplies. August had me driving all over town, dragging me from a craft store for candles and fairy lights to a florist where she handpicked the perfect roses. I wouldn't admit it to her, but having August there helped. She had an eye for detail I didn't, and her sharp comments about my "complete lack of aesthetic" kept me from overthinking every little thing.

By the time we returned, Spencer had cleared out the living room, giving us space to transform it into something presentable. August immediately took charge, pointing at the dining table. "Move that closer to the window. Candles will look better there."

I did as I was told, wiping sweat from my forehead as the sun sank lower in the sky. August started arranging the roses into a vase, muttering under her breath about my "questionable" taste in flower arrangements.

"How's it looking out back?" I asked Spencer, who had gone to check the pool area.

"Pretty good," she said, popping her head in. "I tested the projector—it works. But you're going to have to inflate the chairs. Those things are still in their boxes."

I groaned. "Of course they are."

"Stop complaining," August said, not even looking up. "If you wanted this to be easy, you should've just taken her to that overrated restaurant like you planned."

"And hear you gloat for the next six months? No, thanks," I retorted, dragging the box of pool chairs out to the backyard.

By the time I finished setting everything up—the dinner table glowing with candlelight, the backyard sparkling with fairy lights, and the projector aimed at a screen swaying gently in the evening breeze—I felt a mix of exhaustion and pride.

"Okay," August said, stepping back to admire our work. "This might actually work. If it doesn't, it's not the setup's fault. It's yours."

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dryly.

Spencer gave me a pat on the shoulder. "She's right, though. If Summer doesn't fall for this, she's blind."

"Okay, both of you, out," I said, waving toward the door.

"What?!" Spencer exclaimed, laughing. "We're literally helping you pull off a miracle here!"

"And now you've done enough," I replied, shooing her. "I need time to get myself ready, and I don't need an audience while I'm doing it. Out."

August smirked, grabbing her bag from the counter. "Just don't call us crying if you screw this up."

"I won't," I shot back, holding the door open.

Spencer chuckled, throwing an arm around August. "Good luck. And seriously, try not to overthink it. She's going to love this."

"Goodbye!" I said, practically pushing them out the door.

Once they were gone, I exhaled deeply, leaning against the door for a moment to collect myself. The hard part was done—now it was time to focus on me.

I headed upstairs and jumped straight into the shower, letting the steam calm my nerves as I scrubbed off the stress of the day. As the water ran over me, I started running through everything in my head: the dinner, the setup, and most importantly, how I wanted Summer to see me tonight.

Once I was out of the shower, I toweled off quickly and sat down at my vanity. My makeup was simple but polished—flawless skin with a soft glow, a little definition for my brows, and just enough mascara to make my lashes pop. Instead of a bold lip, I opted for clear lip gloss, its subtle shine giving me a fresh, understated elegance.

Then came my hair. I slicked it back into a low bun with a precise middle part, every strand perfectly in place. It was sleek, clean, and confident, just the look I needed.

For my outfit, I went with something timeless and effortlessly classy. My black dress pants hugged my figure in all the right ways, and the black button-up shirt clung perfectly to my body, tailored to hint at my curves without being too much. I left the top buttons undone, just enough to reveal the delicate gold Van Cleef & Arpels necklace that sparkled against my skin. Matching earrings and bracelet completed the look, along with my gold Rolex and a pair of black Cesare Paciotti heels that gave me just the right amount of height.

I stood back, giving myself a once-over in the full-length mirror. Clean. Sophisticated. Ready.

With a deep breath, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, the confident click of my heels echoing against the floor.

By the time I pulled up to Summer's house, my nerves were creeping back in, but I shoved them aside. Tonight wasn't about second-guessing.

When the door opened, my breath hitched. Summer stood there in a soft, flowing dress that hugged her waist and fluttered around her legs. Her hair fell in effortless waves, and her soft smile lit up her entire face.

Her eyes scanned me slowly, lingering just long enough to make my chest tighten. "Wow," she said, her voice soft but unmistakably impressed.

I smiled, trying to play it cool. "You look incredible."

Her cheeks flushed a light pink, and she glanced down for a moment before meeting my eyes again. "You're one to talk," she said, her voice teasing but warm. "You look... amazing."

I extended my hand toward her, palm up. "Shall we?"

She hesitated for just a second before slipping her hand into mine. Her touch was warm and soft, sending a small thrill up my arm.

"We shall," she said, her voice light but filled with something I couldn't quite place.

I led her to the car, opening the door for her. "I hope you're ready for a surprise," I said as she slid into the passenger seat.

"A surprise?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she buckled her seatbelt.

I shut the door and walked around to the driver's side, settling into my seat. "You'll see," I said with a small smile, starting the car.

As I drove us back to my place, we fell into an easy rhythm, her laughter filling the car as we talked about everything and nothing. Every glance she gave me, every time her hand brushed mine—it all made me feel like maybe, just maybe, tonight could be perfect.