by Dahlia Adler
“Not this,” I snap. “Jesus, Shannon. Sexuality isn’t something you buy in a Parisian boutique and wear for a season. This is kind of a big deal for me.”
She blinks. Nods. “I’m being an asshole again.”
“Yes,” Kiki, I, and even Gia say at once.
“Points for self-awareness and saying ‘I’m sorry’ way faster this time?” she asks meekly.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head. “I’m glad to have you back, Shan,” I murmur.
“God, you are so sappy.” But before we pile into the living room, laden with takeout cartons and soda, she gives me a quick squeeze.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It seems almost cruel that the morning after my own romance ended is the one in which I finally get to meet Clementine Walker face-to-face.
“I’m a huge fan,” I tell her when Beth brings her to the café counter, wiping my hand on my apron before shaking hers. “I’ve read every single one of your books. Repeatedly.”
“Well, that’s always a nice thing to hear!” She has a big smile, bright teeth, and long blond hair that’s clearly out of a bottle, but in a way that looks really cool with dark roots. It somehow makes me even more nervous that she’s extremely nice, and everything else I’d thought to say to her flies out of my head.
I excuse myself to make her a coffee, and she even compliments the half-formed heart drawn in the foam. “It feels more complex that way,” she assures me. “Like this is a heart that has been through some stuff.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter, grateful when Beth calls for me to come get the cart of books for the signing.
The crowd starts trickling in about ten minutes before the event. I guess romance is a hotter genre in the Stratford area than I knew, because soon every seat in the store is full, and Beth’s sending me to get more folding chairs. I barely get back to my spot at the café counter before Beth makes the grand introduction and everyone claps for Clementine.
“Thank you for coming,” Clementine says, and she sounds so professional that it makes me want to be her all the more. She’s pretty, she’s confident, she’s talented, and the huge rock on her left hand suggests she’s got all her romantic shit figured out. I know from her posts on social media that she’s got a hot husband and two adorable kids, and I bet she’s never had her heart twisted up by a girl she’d become too afraid to call.
Thirty-six hours later, I still haven’t spoken to Jasmine. I can’t. I’m back to feeling like it was all in my head, like I’ve gone ahead and come out to my friends, and for what? What if she’s changed her mind since the night of the dance? What if she’s mad I didn’t go after her? What if she thinks I’m still with Chase?
Part of me is so angry we didn’t have this conversation back when we were exchanging heart emojis, letting a tiny little picture in a text thread mask everything we had to say to each other, everything we felt. I wouldn’t have had to hurt Chase; I wouldn’t have had to keep secrets from everyone …
But, if that hadn’t all happened, would I ever have been able to get here?
And where exactly is here, anyway?
I just want to see her. When she’d first mentioned coming to this event, I was horrified at the thought of her showing up, but … I can’t help wishing she had. These books were something I’d shared with her, something she knew mattered deeply to me. Hell, these books were directly responsible for making sure that night by the bonfire wasn’t a one-time thing.
I really want to share this with her.
There’s more applause, and I realize Clementine’s done with her reading, and I quickly join in the clapping. After, Beth takes questions, and I force myself to clear my head and listen, knowing I’ll regret it if I miss out on her wisdom.
“Where does the inspiration for your work come from?” asks a woman in a green sweater, twisting a long strand of pearls around her fingers.
“Pretty much everywhere,” Clementine says with a smile. “This story in particular was inspired by a similar mishap on one of my vacations. Another woman took my suitcase by accident, and it made me wonder what it would be like to stumble into someone else’s life when you’re most in need of a change. Everything kind of spun off from there.”
Green Sweater looks satisfied, and Beth takes the mic from her and hands it to a woman in a sleeveless denim shirt whose chunky rings flash in the light.
“How does your husband feel about you writing romance, specifically explicit sex scenes? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Well, neither is he,” Clementine says with a wink, and everyone laughs and applauds.
That’s when I hear it—the familiar jingle of bangle bracelets. I crane my neck and sure enough, there’s Jasmine, casual and beautiful in a soft pink sweater and jeans, her dark waves cascading over her shoulders.
She’s here.
She’s here without knowing how I feel. She’s here without knowing if I’m still with Chase. She’s here without knowing if I want to be friends or girlfriends or kick her out of my life completely. She’s here and she’s beautiful and she’s so fucking brave, braver than I’ve ever been.
My hand flies into the air.
“Yes! The barista!” Clementine Walker says. “You have a question?”
“I do.” My voice is shaking so badly and it’s awful and embarrassing and forces me to take a deep breath as the whole room turns their eyes on me while Beth brings me the mic. “Do you ever … I mean, have you ever…” Another breath, and this time, I meet Jasmine’s quizzical gaze, watch the way her teeth gently tug at her lip, and I steady. “Has the love interest ever turned out to be someone other than who you originally planned? Because I’m writing a book, and I had this great couple all planned out, but I can’t seem to get my main character as interested in him as she is in her roommate.”
Clementine smiles knowingly. “That’s the thing about characters—you think you’re in control, but even though they’re fictional people, they tend to have their own minds. I think of it as the most amazing blessing when my characters tell me what they want, even if it involves a whole lot more editing than I planned! Did you know in The One That I Haunt, Zach’s brother Tate was actually supposed to be the love interest? But once I realized that Zach and Angie’s bond over their cats was going to be an unbreakable one, I changed paths, even though I was halfway through the draft and two weeks away from deadline.”
There are gasps, and you just know they’re all from empathetic writers.
“I know, right?” says Clementine, and she’s chuckling as she wipes her forehead in a mock show of cleaning the sweat off her brow. “I can’t believe I did it either. But just because you’re telling a good story doesn’t mean it’s the right story. And I think it’s really important to tell the right story.” She looks right at me and answers so brightly that it’s clear she can’t tell my world happens to be turning upside down at that moment. “It sounds to me like the roommate is a relationship worth exploring.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, picking out Jasmine in the crowd. “I’m pretty sure the roommate is my story.”
I offer her a slight smile.
She offers one back.
And then we wait.
The event I’d been anticipating for weeks suddenly feels interminable, and when it’s done, Jasmine takes her time making her way over, looking almost scared of what she’ll encounter when she finally reaches the counter. “You’re writing again,” she says by way of greeting.
“I am. I got inspired, I guess.”
Her smile is quick, and then she’s playing with her fingers in a nervous way I’ve never seen from her. “Listen, Lara, I’m sorry for springing all of that on you at Homecoming. That wasn’t the right way to talk about … any of this. I can’t blame you for not reaching out afterward.”
“I couldn’t,” I tell her.
She casts her eyes down. “I know.”
“I was busy.”
She nods.
�
��I had to tell my mom I’m crazy about a girl. I had to break up with Chase. I had to tell my friends. It’s been a busy weekend, to say the least.”
Her hands freeze, and she looks up. “Are you screwing with me?”
“I feel like you should be saying something more romantic to me right now,” I say, disentangling one of her hands so I can twine my fingers with hers. “Weren’t you just telling me something about being in love with me? Something more like that.”
“I am,” she says softly. “So fucking in love with you.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” I rise onto my toes and press my lips to hers, and bozhe moi it feels like coming home. It’s like our last night together all over again. I’m free and open to show her exactly how I feel, and I can’t believe how long it took us to get back here. But we’re here, and we’re kissing, and—
There’s a loud cough in my ear, and I step back to see Beth giving me a Look. “Not to interrupt your moment,” she says wryly, “but there’s a huge line waiting to get books signed, and while I’m sure they’re all grateful for the demonstration of Happily Ever After, you did beg to work this event, and the part where people spend money is not quite over.” She holds out a pad of sticky notes and a permanent marker, and I sheepishly take them. I’m about to apologize when she turns to Jasmine and holds out a hand. “I’m Beth. I imagine I’ll be seeing you around.”
Jasmine honest-to-goodness blushes. She is so damn cute. “I hope so,” she says, cutting a look to me.
I wink and force myself toward the line.
When I’m done taking names and sticking them into books, I rejoin Jasmine by the counter and pull her to the side for a little more privacy. “So, to be clear, we’re doing this thing. Right?”
She smirks. “Yes, Tinkerbell. We’re doing this thing.”
“You know your parents know.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Am I ever gonna be invited to sleep over again?”
“If you think I asked either of my parents that, you are out of your damn mind.”
“I am out of my damn mind,” I say, fiddling with her bracelets. “I dumped the most popular guy in school and tomorrow everyone’s gonna know it’s because I’m—I don’t know what I am.” I look at her. “Is that okay? That I don’t know? It’s just—there hasn’t been another girl, ever. I don’t know if I’m bi or if it’s just you or if there’s even a difference, but I don’t really want to own a label until I know.”
“No labels at all?” she asks, arching one of her thick, perfect brows. “How about ‘girlfriend’?”
Girlfriend. It feels so different in Jasmine’s voice than in Chase’s, and it ripples down to my toes. “I can work with ‘girlfriend.’”
“Good.” She cups my face in her hands and kisses me. “Now take me to that graphic novel section you so carefully crafted and tell me more about this hot roommate character.”
“You sure you want me to spoil the ending?” I ask as I lead her to a more private spot to, uh, definitely look at books and nothing else.
Her palm is exquisitely warm as it squeezes mine. “I think we’ve both waited long enough to turn the page in this story, don’t you?”
Acknowledgments
All books are a challenge in their own way, but if I’m being honest, this one was the closest thing to an easy ride I’ve ever had, and that’s unquestionably due to all the people I had in my corner for it.
To my editor, Vicki Lame, thank you for your keen editorial eye and every minute of seeing this book through. Big thanks also to Jennie Conway for your incredible work, kindness, and enthusiasm; Angelica Chong for your greatly appreciated assistance; my dream of a publicist, Meghan Harrington; designer Kerri Resnick and illustrator Claire Allison for an absolutely killer biconic cover; production pros Lauren Hougen, Cathy Turiano, and Anna Gorovoy for getting this book into tip-top shape; the fabulous marketing team of Alexis Neuville, DJ DeSmyter, and Brant Janeway, and everyone involved in Creative Services, Sales, and the School & Library teams for all your magic in spreading the word. It’s no small task to get this all done during a global pandemic, and I couldn’t have asked for a better place to do it.
To DongWon Song, thank you for loving this book the way it was and still pushing me to make it better in the best ways before finding it the perfect home.
To my agent, Patricia Nelson, thank you for holding my hand all the way down.
To the brilliant author friends I’m so lucky to have had as my earliest readers from first book to ninth, Marieke Nijkamp and Maggie Hall—I don’t know how I would function in this world without you. You are both so brilliant and talented and make everything I do better and I love you gross amounts. And to Katherine Locke, thank you for walking me through every step of every dramatic turn of my life and career; if only you would alphabetize your bookcases you would be perfect.
Thank you to Anna-Marie McLemore for your early read and for your friendship in general—we’ll always have Kalinda. Immeasurable thanks, too, to everyone who gave notes that helped make this book the best version of itself, including Katelyn Detweiler, Allie Levick, and especially Sari Fallas Linder, who let this very Ashkenazi author pick her beautiful Syrian brain.
I’m grateful to Jenn Marie Thorne, AK Furukawa, and Cam Montgomery for letting me throw my manuscript at them before I was ready to let it out into the world. Thank you to Becky Albertalli for all your support, always, and texts that keep me sane. I’m so grateful to her, Aminah Mae Safi, Jennifer Dugan, and Jen Wilde for the kind words on this book in particular and for dazzling my bookshelves in general.
Much love to all the friends who are there for me ad nauseum whether about publishing, parenting, or life in general, including but not limited to Emery Lord, Rick Lipman, Becca Podos, Eric Smith, Patrice Caldwell, Lev Rosen, Sona Charaipotra, Tess Sharpe, Jess Capelle, Sharon Morse, and the best digital quarantine-group buddies I could’ve asked for, Kind of a Big Deal [eggplant emoji] and “BFFs” Barrie, Liz, and Sasha.
Love to all my fellow book bloggers/media out there, especially those like Danika Leigh Ellis, YA Pride, the Lesbrary, and Tirzah Price, who do the work to help queer readers find the books that might fall through the cracks. Special shoutout to both Buzzfeed’s YA team of Zoraida Córdova, Rachel Strolle, and our leader, Farrah Penn, and the people who’ve helped me keep LGBTQ Reads together this past year, including Rachel, Mark O’Brien, Shauna Morgan, and all the generous donors and patrons.
Deep gratitude to various other contributors to the writing of this book, especially the makers of Evernote, the Foo Fighters for “The Sky Is a Neighborhood,” the Hilton Garden Inn Outer Banks/Kitty Hawk, Cheez-Its (especially whoever came up with kosher bacon-flavored ones), and, of course, Demi Lovato, whose strength and openness constantly awe me.
Most of all, thanks and love to my Adler and Fisch families. I am the luckiest wife, mom, daughter, sister, and aunt in the world, and I am so grateful for everything you make possible.
Also by Dahlia Adler
NOVELS
Behind the Scenes
Under the Lights
Just Visiting
Last Will and Testament
Right of First Refusal
Out on Good Behavior
ANTHOLOGIES (AS EDITOR)
His Hideous Heart: 13 of Edgar Allan Poe’s Most Unsettling Tales Reimagined
That Way Madness Lies: 15 of Shakespeare’s Most Notable Works Reimagined
About the Author
DAHLIA ADLER is an editor of mathematics by day, the overlord of LGBTQ Reads by night, and a young adult author at every spare moment in between. She is the editor of the anthologies His Hideous Heart (a Junior Library Guild selection) and That Way Madness Lies, and the author of many novels, including Cool for the Summer. She lives in New York with her family and an obscene number of books. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive specia
l offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Acknowledgments
Also by Dahlia Adler
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Wednesday Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
COOL FOR THE SUMMER. Copyright © 2021 by Dahlia Adler. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.wednesdaybooks.com
Cover design by Kerri Resnick
Cover illustration by Claire Allison
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Adler, Dahlia, author.
Title: Cool for the summer / Dahlia Adler.
Description: First edition. | New York: Wednesday Books, 2021. | Audience: Ages 14-18. |