ONCE MORE, WITH YOU

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."