“It happens when I’m nervous.”

“You sound like Yogi Bear.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Oh my God, I’m never going on a walk with you again.”

“Yeah, yeah Yogi.”

“Every house in this place looks the same,” I say, trying to change the subject. “It’s sort of nauseating.”

Kit laughs. “My house is different,” he says. “Della made sure no one has shutters the same color as we do.”

“You’re right. You have the best shutters.” And then at the same time we both say, “Aubergine,” and start to laugh. She couldn’t call them purple, or violet, or anything simple. Della liked for her things to sound as fancy as possible, and aubergine was the very fanciest way to say purple.

“One more question,” I say. Kit groans.

“How do you know, and I mean really know, when you’re in love with someone?”

We are standing by the little retention pond that all of the houses in the development are built around. I can see the backs of all of them, facing the pond with glowing windows. While I peek in people’s windows, Kit bends to pick up a rock, and skips it across the water. One … two … three … four. I count his skips, impressed.

“It all feels like a dream,” he says.

“A dream,” I repeat. Ain’t he right.

“It’s weird. You and Kit.”

“Huh?”

Della is holding a dress up to herself in front of the mirror in Nordstrom, yet her eyes are not on her own reflection, but on mine.

I play it cool and push hangers aside, study ugly shirts, and avoid meeting her eyes. Why are we here again? Oh, because she wanted to come.

“You guys seem close. Probably closer than you and I have been in a while.” She looks at the dress, tilts her head to the side, and purses her lips.

“We get along pretty well.” I shrug. “Where is this coming from?”

She suddenly looks guilty. “Nowhere. It’s stupid. I’ve become this jealous monster. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. It’s more intense, you know?”

I don’t know. I’m not the jealous type.

I shake my head at her. “You always want me to be friends with your boyfriends. You’ve shoved them on me in the past. Now you have a problem with it?”

She chews on her lip. Big, fat lips that match her big, fat eyes.

“I told you. It’s different with Kit. And … he likes you. He’s always talking about you.”

I try to be cool, but I knock over a display of bracelets. “Shit. Oops.”

Della bends down to help me pick them up, glancing up at me nervously every few seconds.

“Don’t be mad, okay? I’m just being stupid.”

I am mad. But at myself. How bad is it that Della is noticing something off? I have to lay off, leave Kit alone.

“You’re not stupid,” I say. “You’re in love. Besides, what is there to say about me? I’m boring.”

“That’s not true. I like you, don’t I?”

I don’t answer. Della likes people who cater to her. I’m a professional caterer. It doesn’t make me feel used, just needed.

“He just always wants you around. He shares his stories with you and not with me. And you guys always seem to have an inside joke, you know?”

“Don’t you have inside jokes together?”

Her brows draw together. “Not really. I don’t think he thinks I’m very funny.”

“He thinks you’re kind,” I say. And then I tell her the nice things Kit said about her.

“And honestly, Della, I think he’s laughing at me not with me. I’m only funny because I’m awkward.”

“That’s true.” She nods. “You are very awkward.”

I pull a shirt off the rack and hold it up to myself. She rolls her eyes. “It’s beige. You’re such a beige bitch.” I put it back. Who wants to be a beige bitch? I watch my best friend admire herself in the mirror. It’s the strangest thing to watch. The conceit battling the insecurity. I never knew a woman could be both until Della. A beautiful woman, racked by jealousy. Of what? I think. How many girls would love to be her? I wouldn’t. It must be exhausting to be that consumed with yourself. Boring even. I feel guilty about the thoughts I’ve been having about Della. If I were really honest with myself, I’d say they started around the time Kit showed up. Can one person make you view someone in a different light? It shouldn’t be that way. I’m disloyal.

A week later I am at Kit and Della’s for a BBQ. There are twenty or so people in their small backyard, some sitting on lawn chairs, sipping beer, while others are hiding out in the air conditioning, gathered around the guacamole. I am part of the outside group. We quickly nickname ourselves The Outsiders—for more than one reason. Kit is not among us, but he comes over in between grilling. June sits next to me. She is pensive and fidgety tugging on the tassels on her skirt.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask her. “You’re acting like a girl.”

She glances back into the kitchen. That’s when I sort of know. Della must have spoken to her about something. June hates being put in the middle. I put a hand on her arm, narrowing my eyes. Before I can say something, the back door slides open, and Della walks out with a plate of meat. June spins around, not looking at her. She’s wearing hot pink shorts and a white tank. No bra. We all know you have nipples, Della. Thanks for that. I crack my neck as she hands Kit the plate and wraps her arms around his torso, pressing her face to his back. When all he does is smile at her, she goes in for something more drastic. She’s wanting attention. There are too many girls here, and Della needs to know she’s the best one. God, it sucks to know someone this well. It used to bother me less.