by Emma Lord
She sets down a massive platter of waffles on the coffee table in front of us, and everyone reaches forward and grabs the paper plate with their waffle on it, all customized for them by me and by Paige. Over the summer, before we all dispersed for college, the group of us started convening in our apartment so often, we have everyone’s preferences memorized like we’ve got GPS on their taste buds. After all these months, it’s a relief to have us all here together again—to have something as familiar as Pooja’s obsession with adding syrup to everything, and Stephen’s love for any kind of jam, and Paul’s numerous food allergies. Like we’re settling back into a rhythm again.
“Are we all accounted for?” says Ethan.
“Aye-aye, captain,” says Pooja, plopping herself down next to him and shimmying her butt to volley for more space on the couch. She turns to Jack. “Load up the post, maestro.”
Jack obliges, pulling up the computer screen he synced to my mom’s giant television. My dad’s in town for Thanksgiving, so he and my mom are grabbing dinner to catch up—and also, I suspect, to give us some rein over the apartment so we can read the new Hub Seed article about us in peace.
I take a bite of my Where Are They Now? Waffle just as the post—appropriately subtitled “~*~Where Are They Now?~*~”—loads up on the screen. Headline: Um, We Have The CUTEST Update About That Big League Burger Twitter War From Last Year.
“Oh em gee, the CUTEST update,” Pooja deadpans.
Jack flings a peanut at her, which she unexpectedly and deftly catches in her open mouth.
“Sick,” says Paul.
“Scroll down!” Paige demands.
I’m delighted to see the first image on the post is of a bunch of my new dessert creations, all on display in the case at Girl Cheesing. I’m enrolled at Columbia, and hoping for a spot in the Business Management concentration next year, but all the time I’m not in class or studying, I’ve been working at Girl Cheesing to learn the ropes of owning a small business. As a result, Jack’s mom has given me free rein to add any desserts I want to the menu.
And, uh, I might have gotten slightly carried away.
Hey, kids! Remember last year when we all semi-creepily (but with the BEST OF INTENTIONS!!) started shipping the two teens behind the Big League Burger and Girl Cheesing Twitter accounts that were warring on this here internet?
Well, I am delighted to be the bearer of slightly-less-creepy news—the teens are dating IRL! And also super successful in their budding professional ambitions! But more importantly, THEY ARE DATING IRL!!!
“Oh my god,” says Jack. “I’m blinded by the caps lock.”
“Not the majesty of my desserts?”
He and his half smirk lean in and kiss me on the cheek. Paige gags theatrically, and Pooja leans from her perch to grab the laptop from Jack so she can keep scrolling.
Yes, the teens are very much in love, and—in the ultimate plot twist—have Parent Trap’d themselves. You see, young Jack is reportedly taking classes in mobile app development at NYU, while interning with an app team … at Big League Burger HQ in New York.
(Hub Seed reached out to BLB for comment on what this new app is about and when we can expect a launch, and received a response of three winking emojis, so. Y’know. Interpret that however you will.)
Meanwhile, Patricia, who started at Columbia this semester, is working for—drumroll please, y’all—none other than Girl Cheesing. And ICYMI, homegirl is nothing short of a dessert genius.
The newly revamped Girl Cheesing Instagram account is such goals I want the pics of her desserts tattooed on the inside of my eyelids. (Word to the wise: If you haven’t had Monster Cake yet, you have not fully experienced what this mortal realm has to offer.)
“Yesss, more Monster Cake stans!” Paige cheers.
Stephen grimaces. “Three winking emojis? Dude.”
I shrug. The biggest relief of my life is that I no longer have any hand in any of Big League Burger’s internet presence—not the Twitter, the email account, or even Taffy’s newly launched Instagram, where she and her dog have been touring the recently expanded Big League International locations in Europe and Asia while taking lots of adorable, curated pics (a job she is much better suited for than BLB’s Twitter, which is now being run by an extremely snarky outside hire who lives and breathes memes, thank god).
Jack shrugs. “I mean, it’s not that top secret. It’s just for like, mobile ordering and delivery. And some interactive chats and games.”
I hike my knees up and nudge him with my foot. “Chats and games they’re letting Jack develop on his own. He was the one who pitched them in the first place.”
Jack smiles down at his lap. “Should be fun,” he says, chronically underselling himself as usual.
“Congrats, man,” says Stephen. “Hey, you should take a look at this client we’re trying to pitch a chat platform to right now that’s kind of like Weazel—do you freelance? Because if you had any ideas, we c—”
“Please embargo this nerd-palooza for another five minutes,” says Pooja, knowing that, left to their own devices, Jack and Stephen will start talking about the respective apps they’re working on until they’re blue in the face. She scrolls down.
Jactricia—or PepperJack, as they’ve come to be known, once Patricia’s nickname came to light (seriously, HOW STINKING CUTE are these two?)—has stayed pretty chill since the war died down. They still don’t have Twitter accounts of their own, and their Instas, if they exist, are private.
But they were kind enough to provide the Hub with a recent pic, posing with the latest permanent offering on Girl Cheesing’s menu: the PepperJack Grilled Cheese. Cue the collective “d’awwww.”
Paul and Pooja let out an actual “d’awww” at the same time, hers mocking and his unabashedly earnest. The picture is one Ethan took of me and Jack the day we all had a picnic in Washington Square Park just before the first semester of college started—sandwiches from Girl Cheesing with massive shakes and fries from Big League Burger. Naturally, Jack and I were hamming it up for the camera, both trying to shove our grilled cheeses into the other’s face. Even I have to admit we look insufferably cute.
There you have it, folks. A fitting end to the cheesiest romance ever told, and a love we can all brie-lieve in.
Paige raises a paper cup full of hot cider, prompting us all to do the same.
“To my little sister and her weird dessert brain.”
Ethan chimes in. “To my little brother—”
“By eleven minutes—”
“—and his secret dorky hobbies.”
We all cheer, and Pooja looks up from her now-empty waffle plate and says, “Okay, okay, that’s enough cuteness for one night. Turn on Mean Girls before we all get diabetes.”
Paige does the honors of pulling it up on the TV, and I look around the room at the happy, mismatched lot of us—Pooja in her Stanford Swimming sweats, Paul in a bowtie, Stephen with his face full of waffle, Ethan making fun of him, Paige watching it all with an amused kind of exasperation—and Jack, already staring at me when I look for his eyes, the same way he always seems to be. He smiles one of those half smiles, the kind I return without thinking. Of all the unexpected recipes this “weird dessert brain” of mine has ever come up with, I doubt I’ll ever create anything as perfect as the one right in this room.
This may have started with a war, but whatever it is now, there isn’t an end in sight—not as long as we’re both still winning.
Acknowledgments
First, holy guacamole, thank you to my agent, Janna Bonikowski. I can only describe the last few years as “everything happens so much,” but you were never once fazed by any of it, with the kind of counsel and support that goes way beyond the agent call of duty. This book may have been inspired by a tweet, but it happened because of you—I never would have written it without your encouragement and insight. Basically, my dreams came true, and it is all your fault.
Thank you to my editor, Alex Sehulster, who gave me the best ad
vice of my life before we were even working together, and told me I was supposed to be writing YA. I am a much happier writer for it, and now I am also a writer who knows the ridiculous joy of getting to work with you and learn from your ideas, both plotwise and dessertwise. Thank you also to Mara Delgado-Sanchez and the Wednesday Books team. I could not be more excited to be making my debut with you guys.
Thank you to Gaby Moss—may every overexcitable green bean who moves to New York immediately meet someone who so fiercely takes them under their wing and teaches them how to savor the good things and laugh at the scary ones. To my writers-in-crime: Suzie Sainwood, who has held my hand through every step of this journey; Kadeen Griffiths, who is too pure for this human world; and Erin Mayer, the spooky teenage witch of my heart. Thank you to Yumee Cho, who taught me that your organs don’t spontaneously fail if you read each other’s work. May we all be swapping ideas and mopping one another off the floor until pen do us part.
Thank you to the women of Bustle—my coworkers, my friends, my guides. I hope we are all still fighting about the best kind of potato until the Earth flies into the sun. (It’s tater tots, and I just got this published, so I’m right.)
A massive, dweeby thank-you to the fanfiction community that raised me and made me the writer I am today. From the day I posted my first fanfic at eleven years old, y’all have taught me, supported me, and watched me tank at more dreams than I can count, but never, ever, ever let me give up on this one.
(Thank you also to the girls in the back row of my college stats class for not tattling on me for updating my Spider-Man fan fiction during lectures. Lol, math.)
Thank you to my teachers, Lori Wagoner Reiner and Eleanor Henderson—you both gave me a place to write, but more important, a place to belong.
Thank you to the stone-cold pack of nerds who share my DNA and have pulled me out of more plot holes than I can count. Thank you to Evan, the big brother who tried to teach me to read with way too many books about wolves, and has been teaching me ever since. To Maddie, the little sister who helped me post my first fanfic, and always has the answers to life’s hardest questions and the patience to give them. To Lily, the littler sister who has read every manuscript my brain has ever churned out, untangles the plots in my books and my life, and thought of me as an author long before I did. I love you guys. Being your sister is the best thing that ever happened to me. (Aside from cake.)
Finally, and most important, thank you to my mom and dad. You raised us to believe we could turn every if into a when. Watching you made me brave, but knowing you support me in everything I do makes me braver. I am a girl built on Minnie Mouse cheese and made-up swing-set songs and handmade superhero costumes, on sparkles and show tunes and more ideas than I’ll ever have the time to write, because you always gave my imagination room to grow. I’ve had a big, exciting life both inside my head and outside of it, but so far the best part has been getting to call you to tell you about this book. I hope one day I can be half the parent to my own kids that you are to us.
About the Author
EMMA LORD is a digital-media editor and writer living in New York City, where she spends whatever time she isn’t writing either running or belting out show tunes in community theater. She graduated from the University of Virginia with a major in psychology and a minor in how to tilt your computer screen so nobody will notice you updating your fanfiction from the back row. She was raised on glitter, grilled cheese, and a whole lot of love. Her sun sign is Hufflepuff, but she is a Gryffindor rising. Tweet Cute is her debut novel. You can find her geeking out online on Twitter. Find Emma there and on Instagram at @dilemmalord and on emmalordwriting.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Part One
Pepper
Jack
Jack
Jack
Pepper
Pepper
Pepper
Jack
Pepper
Pepper
Pepper
Pepper
Jack
Jack
Pepper
Jack
Part Two
Jack
Pepper
Pepper
Pepper
Jack
Jack
Pepper
Pepper
Jack
Jack
Pepper
Pepper
Pepper
Pepper
Jack
Jack
Pepper
Pepper
Jack
Jack
Pepper
Pepper
Pepper
Pepper
Jack
Jack
Pepper
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
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
TWEET CUTE. Copyright © 2019 by Emma Lord. 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 and hand-lettering by Kristen Solecki
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-23732-3 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-75962-7 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
ISBN 978-1-250-23733-0 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250237330
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: January 2020
