Beyond Compare (h.e.s)

part one

"Tell us."

"No."

"Tell us."

"No."

"Tell us."

"No."

"Tell us!"

"Okay!"

"Really?"

"No."

Sometimes, I just like messing with Amber.

"C'mon, Izzy. You have to tell us who it is," she insists.

I look at her and roll my eyes. "No, I really don't."

"You're such a killjoy. You never talk about guys or sex, and then you say something like this and won't tell us who it was with? That's just bitchy," Summer tells me. "You're being a total prude."

"Why am I friends with you? You just called me a killjoy, bitch and prude in the span of fifteen seconds."

With friends like these, who needs self esteem?

"Tell us."

"Oh my god, guys, no!" I say, exasperated. "I can't believe I was dumb enough to even mention it."

"Well, you were dumb enough," Summer says. God, she's just so wonderful. "So just give us a name, and we'll stop bugging you."

"I'm not going to tell you," I repeat.

"Tell who what?" Carter asks, joining us on the couch. There's a prolonged moment of unease when he looks like he's heading for the free seat next to Summer as if by instinct, then realizes that they're no longer dating and sits down next to Amber instead.

"Nothing," I reply quickly. "It's nothing."

"What's nothing?" Brayden pipes in as he sits down next to Amber. Behind him I see Harry enter the coffee shop and grab his drink, before heading over to our table.

Shit.

Crap.

Shit crap.

I need to change the subject. Now. I need to think of something riveting and juicy that'll get their attention and make them forget all about my mystery man.

"Did you know that mama birds vomit up their food because baby birds can't handle eating something that's not already been digested?"

That's not it.

Carter makes a face at me, but it's Harry, piping up from behind me, who says what everyone is thinking.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Isabelle?" He sits down next to his sister with a bright pink coffee cup—apparently, the coffee shop hasn't gone back to their regular ones, even though Valentines' Day was yesterday—as he says hi to the others.

"She's deflecting," Summer tells him, arching an eyebrow in challenge to me.

I swear to God, if I didn't know she didn't know, I'd think she knew. And of all people that shouldn't know, it's Summer because I don't think she'd be pleased to know that this conversation is actually about her brother.