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patterns. “Have fun at band practice.”
    â€œThanks for the ride,” Mackenzie said, opening the door to the backseat and carefully sliding out her cello case. Her parents had promised to buy her a top-quality professional instrument from Germany if she got into Juilliard—she’d need one if she was going to play with professionals—but she loved her current cello. She knew every little scratch and scuff in the glossy maple wood, every weird quirk it had. She’d even given it a name: Moomintroll.
    â€œAnytime!” Claire yelled out the window. “Tell Blake I love him!”
    â€œRight, I’ll be sure to do that,” Mackenzie mumbled as Claire zoomed off.
    Then she looked in the window of Cupcake Kingdom. And there he was, wiping off the counter, looking sexy even in a pink-and-white-striped apron. Blake Strustek, the reason for Claire and Mac’s friend-mageddon.
    Mac had become friends with Blake in junior high and joined his band, Black Lodge. They practiced weekly, but it was only in sophomore year that Mac realized she liked him as more than a friend . . . though she had no idea what to do with that. She stayed late at band practice, went out of her way to be in his ensembles for chamber music festivals, and at strings camp she’d linger near him every opportunity she got. The only person she confessed her crush to was Claire.
    That was why it’d been such a shock when Claire came to her last year during the orchestra’s trip to Disneyland. “Blake just kissed me,” she’d announced breathlessly. “I didn’t kiss him back, because I know you like him, too.”
    â€œLike him, too ?” Mackenzie had echoed hollowly, thinking of Blake with his wide, curving lips, his thick, shaggy hair. His pale blue eyes, long-lashed and intense. Mackenzie had liked him forever, yes, but Claire had never mentioned liking him, too. Not ever.
    â€œI’ll just tell him no, right? That you like him, so even though I really, really like him, too, it’d be weird if we went out?” Claire went on.
    â€œ No! ” Mackenzie had gasped, mortified. The only thing worse than Claire liking Blake was Blake knowing Mac liked him. “It’s fine . . . ,” she said haltingly. “You should go for it.”
    It’s better this way, and you know it, Mackenzie told herself. Boys were a distraction from what really mattered. But that didn’t mean she’d totally forgiven Claire. Claire was supposed to be her best friend, her confidante. Claire should have known better.
    Blake noticed Mac and opened the door. “Hey. You coming?”
    She pointed at the cupcake on his torso. “Nice apron,” she teased.
    Blake scoffed. “Hey. It takes a secure man to wear a pink cupcake on his chest.” He reached behind him and started to untie the strings. “Come on in. I’m just closing up, and then we can head back.”
    She followed him into the shop, which resembled a Candy Land game board. The walls were painted with pink glitter. Bright-colored prints hung everywhere, with sayings like LET THEM EAT CUPCAKES! and LIFE IS SWEET! in simple fonts. Two vintage bistro tables sat under frosted-glass sconces, and a warm, buttery aroma set her mouth watering. In the glass case counter, a handful of beautiful frosted cupcakes sat in long rows. The “flavors” all had names like “The Fat Elvis” or “The Cherry Bomb.” The cupcakes were pretty picked-over—it looked like they’d almost sold out over the course of the day—but the leftover ones still looked scrumptious.
    â€œWhere’s your sister?” Mac asked as Blake turned the OPEN sign around to CLOSED . His sister, Marion, had opened this shop last year.
    Blake rolled his eyes. “Taking the day off. She’s probably getting a mani-pedi.”
    â€œLet me guess? Matching bubble-gum pink?”
    â€œYou know