Sweeter Than Summer

14 | banana split

"Jan." On this, Rosa bumped the door closed with her hip. "Spill the beans."

"Beans? What beans?"

"Don't act all coy with me. The beans. Spill 'em."

Reluctantly, I set down my whisk, even though I was definitely not in the mood for any kind of interrogation. Wyatt didn't drop me off in my driveway until just before one the night before, long after my dad had fallen asleep on the couch, lulled by Ina Garten explaining how to make the perfect lasagna.

Before I tell her this, though, Rosa crossed to the bowl in front of me took a tentative sniff. Then another.

"Is this why everything smells like fake banana?" She sniffed again, twice, in quick succession. "And maraschino cherries?"

"Banana split ice cream," I explained.

"Gross." She laughed. "But intriguing."

"Is that a compliment?"

"It's always a compliment." Rosa finally moved her face away from the bowl, and I almost sighed in relief. Her hair had been dangling dangerously close to the surface. "I didn't really come in here to praise your ice cream, though. I already do that on an almost-daily basis."

That made me break out into a smile, albeit, a sleepy one. "I really appreciate it."

"I know." She put both hands on the counter behind her, then hoisted herself into a sitting position. "That's why I do it. Friendship, and stuff. I'm the Hermione to your Harry."

"Why do I have to be Harry?"

"January, we've been over this." She sucked in a deep breath, like she was getting ready to ramble, so I started stirring again, holding the bowl close to my chest and turning to face her. "I have all the defining Hermione characteristics. Brains, bossiness, unfortunately large front teeth –"

"Rosa, they're cute –"

"- and you have all the Harry characteristics. The detrimental loyalty. The leadership abilities. The cute cluelessness."

She paused, maybe waiting for me to argue this last point, or maybe just to stop and breathe. After a moment, she added, a little more thoughtfully, "If you're Harry, does that mean that Wyatt is Ginny?"

I dropped the whisk again. This time, more out of surprise than defeat. "What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"You," she said slowly, "and Wyatt. Harry and Ginny."

"What –" I was sputtering, so I stopped, and started again. "What do you mean?"

"January."

"Rosa."

"C'mon."

"What does that mean? 'C'mon?'"

Rosa crossed and uncrossed her ankles, leaning back against the cabinets. "I thought it was obvious."

"What?"

"You can't stop yawning. Wyatt can't stop smiling. You pretend like you aren't looking at each other, and he pretends like he isn't scrolling through all of your text messages together, swooning. Swooning. You're making Wyatt Gulati swoon."

"I'm not. Am I?" I hugged the bowl to my chest. Rosa was right – the banana extract was a little overwhelming. "I don't know. Maybe. I guess. I don't know. It's complicated."