“We were loud. I’d never been loud before. I grew up in a quiet house, where shouting only ever happened when my sister came home with a questionable new piercing or a new love interest or both. The shouting always gave way to an even deeper silence after, and so I did my best to head the shouting off at the pass, because I hated silence, felt every second of it as a kind of dread.

My best friends taught me a new kind of quiet, the peaceful stillness of knowing one another so well you don’t need to fill the space. And a new kind of loud: noise as celebration, as the overflow of joy at being alive, here, now.”

Harriet’s raw, emotional, and nostalgic voice shows how dearly she adores her friends as she describes their quality time together with specific details. Now, she experiences silence and noise in healthy and happy ways, rather than the destructive family backstory given here. The prose reveals her heartfelt view of Cleo and Sabrina and how she cherishes their friendship, a major theme.

“Oh god. He’s not supposed to be here!

The next time I saw [Wyn], I was supposed to be in a sexy Reformation dress with a hot new boyfriend and a full face of makeup. (In this fantasy, I’d also learned how to apply a full face of makeup). Most importantly, I was supposed to have no perceivable reaction to him.”

Harriet’s reaction to Wyn introduces the main conflict of the book: She and Wyn must endure a week together pretending they didn’t break up while still actually pining for each other. Emily Henry’s use of humor is apparent in these lines of Harriet’s relatable inner monologue, as she contrasts her fantasy scenario of an incredible glow-up before seeing Wyn again, and the reality of him surprising her in Maine.

“‘No touching when no one’s around to see it,’ I say quickly. ‘When we’re with the others, we’ll…do whatever we have to do.’ […]

‘Holding hands?’ he asks.

I’m not sure why that of all things makes my heart shoot up into my esophagus.

‘Acceptable.’

His chin dips in confirmation. ‘What can I touch? Lower back, hips, arms?’

‘Do you want me to draw you a diagram?’ I say.

‘Desperately.’

‘It was a joke,’ I say.

‘I know,” he says. ‘And yet that doesn’t make me any less curious.’”

Harriet and Wyn’s banter is the backbone of this version of the romance novel trope of the fake relationship. Their obviously flirty chemistry betrays the fact that Harriet and Wyn still have feelings for one another; their faux-snippiness with each other demonstrates how hard they will have to work to fool their friends.