Oh my God, you were terrific as Gregg Allman,” Amy tells Rune, and then to all of us and repeats, “Amazing!”

“Thank you,” Rune says good-naturedly, his cheeks slightly pink, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Asher Dillion, seriously?” The shocked look on Jack’s face is priceless. I’m tempted to snap a pic on my phone, but I don’t want to move away from Rune’s protective arm.

“In the flesh.” Rune agrees dryly.

“That was you in The Troubadour Tales?” Jack asks, sounding a little touched in the head.

“Too bad we stayed on a fundraising theme,” Amy says with a wink, “we could have auctioned off dates with you, though maybe this crowd isn’t the right age group.” She pats Rune on the arm and turns to Jack, “We need to mingle, babe. My goal is to hit 300k tonight from this group; however,” she turns back to us, “the two of you must come to our fourth of July party next week,” she looks at Jack, “you’ll send them all the details?”

“Of course,” Jack agrees, looking a little uncomfortable.

“I wish we could,” I find myself saying quickly, looking at Rune and hoping he’ll catch my drift, “but we’ve committed to making ice cream for Luna and Dan’s party. Maybe another time?”

“Oh right, I need to dig out the ice cream maker. Yes, absolutely another time,” Rune agrees, thankfully playing along, which is very kind. I’m sure Amy’s party will be quite a party.

“Oh darn!” Amy says, pouting a little, “Unfortunately, we’re leaving the next day for Iceland. We’ll be there for two weeks, and then go to East Coast.”

“Iceland?” I say, feeling like I’ve been suddenly dipped in ice water.

“It was Jack’s idea,” Amy says, smiling at him affectionately and running her beautifully manicured hand up his arm, “He dazzled me with the idea and a fabulous itinerary when we were hiking Mount Ranier with some friends recently.”

“Mount Rainier?” I echo, now sounding like I’m the one touched in the head. Jack’s face loses more color.

“We’re going camping on horseback. Can you believe it?” Amy asks, her eyes wide with fun and disbelief, “Jack convinced me it’s easier than it sounds because they have this crazy smooth trot or something. It sounds unbelievable, but he assures me it’s true.”

“Oh, it’s true,” I say sharply, glaring at Jack. He’s far more interested in his camera and won’t return my glance.

“We’re horse geeks,” Rune tells Amy when she looks between Jack and me with some concern, “we researched the horses of Iceland as kids,” which ironically is true. We did it for one of Rune’s homeschool homework projects.

“Wow, I hope you’ll send me any tips you know,” Amy says.

“Of course,” Rune agrees, “good luck tonight; it’s a great cause,” and then he pulls me back towards the display table where he left his drink.

“That was my trip,” I say, low and miserable, as he hands me his glass. I take a big swig and cough, “I spent months researching it. We were supposed to go next year, and he recently, out of nowhere, decided he wanted to go this year…”

“Come on, Seashell,” Rune says quietly, encouragingly, “let’s take a walk, shall we?” He leads me past the large tent of happily milling people.

“I bet you’ve never had someone ditch you and take someone else on the vacation you planned,” I grumble.

Stolen story; please report.

“No, I haven’t,” he admits as he guides me around the right side of the enormous house and down the long lawn towards the water. “But I did have my first official girlfriend come out of the closet and start dating a woman all in the public eye when I was eighteen. The next one decided to cheat with a rock star on me after starring in a music video with him that I directed. Does that help?”

“Oh crap,” I say, wincing in empathy. I’m glad I’m wearing flats as we reach the pebbly shore, “I forgot about the former; I didn’t know about the latter.”

“It was a while ago,” he says, “why should you?”

“I’m sorry that all happened,” I tell him. Is this why he’s such a bad boy now? Is he getting back at women for breaking his heart in the past?

“And I’m sorry this happened here tonight,” he counters kindly, “Jack is an asshole.”

“Thanks,” I grumble as we make our way to the water. Pulling off my shoes and tights is tempting, but I don’t think my feet would take it barefoot. I’m happy that we can hear the roll and rhythm of the surf; it’s soothing.

“I wish …” I start but feel utterly lame for saying something I was thinking out loud.

“You wish what?” Rune slips his beautiful long fingers through mine and wiggles my hand, “Cough it up, Seashell.”

“I’m always the second choice, the backup plan,” I admit, staring pointedly at the water, willing myself not to cry, “I doubt that happens to you, as long as you stop dating gay women and putting girlfriends in music videos, of course.”

“You’d be surprised,” he says with a sort of disgusted snort, letting go of my hand. He bends down over the rocks, starting to collect flat ones the right size for skipping, “Just because a lot of people decide you’re desirably fuckable doesn’t mean they’re at all interested in the real you.”

He glances at me to see if I believe him. My face must register that I don’t, “It’s true; most women aren’t interested in the shy, serious geeky nerd homebody that I am; they want me to be the effortlessly suave and sexy characters I’ve played on TV,” he stands back up and throws the first rock, which only skips once.

“Here, like this,” I tell him. Happy to have something else to focus on, I reach for his hand and the rocks he’s picked up. I choose a perfect specimen, step away from him, and let it fly over the low waves with my best sideways throw. It skips three times.

“Show off,” he complains with fake annoyance, “you were always better at so many things.”

“Like what?” I scoff, “I don’t think skipping rocks counts for much. I could draw, and you could write, play music, and act.”

He raises his eyebrow at me, “That video was a solid piece of storytelling, excellent editing, short enough that people are hungry to learn more about the organization,” he tells me, “I bet they hit their fundraising goals tonight.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, “This would make me want to preen if I wasn’t so depressed.”

“Seashell, you could ride better than I could, you could dance better than I could, and you weren’t afraid to ask adults, even strangers, for what you wanted.”

“Okay, no, I wasn’t shy like you were,” I admit.

“Are,” he adds, throwing another rock that skips twice, for which he raises his fists above his head in a celebratory motion.

“Those are all things I took lessons in, like you for the piano and guitar. And you’re the one who came up with most of our fun adventure and project ideas,” I say, remembering things I haven’t let myself think about for quite a while. We made the perfect team, we had so much fun.

“But you had no problem asking for permission, like taking the ferry to Seattle by ourselves to go the Pike Market and check out famous art stores that last summer together. That was a fantastic trip.”

“True,” I accept. That was a wonderful day. Rune’s grandma Nan took us to the ferry terminal in Bainbridge, and his mom, Astrid, picked us up several hours later. However, we were entirely on our own for our adventure to the city.

“Listen, Shelby,” Rune says, running his hands through his hair and starting to pace back and forth, “I’m a hot mess right at this moment,” he holds my gaze for a beat, making sure I understand that he’s serious, “But just so you know, you’ve certainly been a first choice for me.”

“As a summertime bestie, sure,” I cut him off because I can’t stand to hear him say it, “I appreciate that, Rune, I do. But it’s not the same as a romance.”

A tear slides down my cheek. I brush it away carefully with my fingertips, hoping I didn’t wreck my eye makeup.

“Summertime bestie?” Rune stares at me, incredulous, then gives a little huff of a laugh, shaking his head, and runs his hand over his mouth as if trying to keep himself from saying more.

“And anyway,” I say, remembering to be angry at him, “your summertime bestie wasn’t good enough for you to be seen dancing with at Sundance!”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, making that startled expression a cat makes when sprayed with water, but quickly annoyance replaces this, “You deserted me!”

“Only after you told me, and I quote,” I say furiously, holding up my fingers for emphasis, “It wouldn’t look good and ran off the dance floor.”

“Oh, God!” Rune exclaims, putting his sunglasses in his coat’s front pocket, “We’re both idiots. I meant I wouldn’t look good. I can’t dance, Shelby.”