Opening
Valentine’s Day resets, and Emilie Hornby keeps waking into the same nightmare: a wreck, a breakup she can’t unsee, and plans collapsing on repeat. Across these loops, she tries to control, then to perfect, and finally to surrender the day—building a surprising connection with Nick Stark while her picture-perfect romance with Josh Sutton falls apart.
What Happens
Chapter 6: The Second Valentine’s Day
Emilie wakes in her own bed with a jolt of déjà vu. Lisa gripes about the bathroom, and her Dad (Thomas) repeats the same corny joke as yesterday. Convinced the car crash and the sight of Josh with Macy Goldman were only a dream, she asks for a ride—until she sees her undented van in the driveway and feels the world tilt.
On the drive to school, the “dream” plays out beat-for-beat: the text from Josh, the distracted glance up, the crunch of bumper on the back of Nick Stark’s truck. Their conversation mirrors the first time, right down to his blank nonrecognition and her scramble to make sense of it. To test the loop, she blurts that she loves Metallica; his interest flickers. Riding shotgun with Nick, Emilie realizes the day is looping—and that no amount of planning shields her from the inevitable collision. The story locks into its core tension of Fate vs. Control.
Chapter 7
School replays like a cruel copy. Emilie gets called to the office and officially loses the summer program. In the parking lot, she spots Josh and Macy again; this time, she watches the way he looks at Macy and turns away before the kiss, hurt flaring just the same. In the bathroom, Chris and Roxane bicker and buoy her, their familiar dynamic steadying her in a day that won’t change.
At Grandma Max's house, Emilie throws out theories—maybe an antique pepper shaker cursed the day?—and finally confides the truth: she is reliving Valentine’s Day. To prove it, she predicts, word for word, a text from Josh that arrives on the phone Grandma has kept in the car. When the message matches, Grandma believes. Emilie gains a witness and a lifeline, opening a path toward sharing her burden and moving toward Grief and Healing.
Chapter 8: Yet Another Valentine’s Day
Emilie reframes the loop as a chance to fix everything. She drafts a new to-do list and takes a different route to avoid Nick, only to swerve into him harder than before. Their argument sharpens—she pretends to be a Metallica fan; he calls her on it, poking at her performative perfection and the way she “choked” in the cafeteria.
Her fixes backfire. She hides in a bathroom to dodge the scholarship meeting, drops her phone in the toilet, and gets the rejection by email anyway. Determined to stop the Josh–Macy kiss, she wedges herself and Nick into Josh’s tiny two-seater for a coffee run. The ride is agonizing and technically successful, but hollow. Later, she grandstands with a gift and an “I love you,” only for Josh to brush her off in public—until Nick steps in with a quick joke to spare her. Driving Emilie and Chris home, Nick tells her point-blank that what she has with Josh isn’t love, and the truth lands.
Chapter 9: Another Valentine’s Day
The crash repeats, but the tone shifts. Sitting in Nick’s truck, they talk about books instead of sniping, bonding over a shared disdain for an overrated author. Emilie tries honesty as a new tactic: she levels with the school counselor, who agrees to help her find another summer program.
On a loop when she walks to school, she finds Nick’s truck dead. She helps jump it, then breaks down, confessing how awful her life feels without explaining the time loop. Nick listens and offers a blunt mantra: “Fuck ’em.” The day blooms from there. Emilie has a real conversation with her dad about his move to Texas. She and Josh exchange presents without disaster—until he gives her a silver bracelet, forgetting she’s allergic. That night, she and Nick fall into an easy, flirty call; his imagined “perfect gift for a hypothetical girlfriend” makes Josh’s thoughtlessness glow neon. Certain she’s finally “fixed” the day, Emilie goes to sleep without wishing on a star.
Chapter 10: Yet Another Godforsaken Valentine’s Day
“Walking on Sunshine” blares; the loop holds. After a primal scream, Emilie has an epiphany: no tomorrows means no consequences. She adopts Nick’s mantra wholesale and writes a single task for the day—“WHATEVER I FUCKING FEEL LIKE.”
This all-in embrace of Authenticity and Identity rewires her choices. She luxuriates in a long shower, nails her makeup, pulls on tight leather pants, eats pie for breakfast, snags the keys to her dad’s prized Porsche, and tears onto the road with Metallica blasting. A cop clocks her at 96 in a 45. Unbothered by potential fallout—impoundment, revoked license—she coolly asks for a ride to school, launching her first loop lived entirely on her terms.
Character Development
Emilie stops chasing the “perfect” version of herself and starts telling the truth—even when it’s messy. As she tests and fails to control the loop, she learns to choose, not perform.
- Emilie: Moves from planner to experimenter to risk-taker; confides in Grandma Max; accepts help from a counselor; recognizes Josh’s neglect; embraces a consequence-free day to find her real voice.
- Nick: Evolves from grumpy obstacle to sharp, compassionate co-conspirator; calls out Emilie’s performative choices; rescues her from public humiliation; offers the freeing mantra that reframes her approach; reveals curiosity, taste, and care.
- Josh: The “perfect boyfriend” persona cracks—public dismissal, a careless bracelet that ignores her allergy, and a charged connection with Macy expose his shallow attention.
- Supporting anchors: Chris and Roxane provide comic relief and steady friendship; Grandma Max becomes a believer and confidante; Dad opens a honest channel about Texas, softening family distance.
Themes & Symbols
The battle between fate and control drives these chapters. The unavoidability of the crash with Nick becomes a symbol: no matter the route, Emilie meets the same impact. Her color-coded plans, bathroom hideouts, and forced coffee runs all collapse under the weight of an uncontrollable day, teaching her that control can become a cage.
Authenticity replaces performance. When Emilie drops the script—telling the counselor the truth, letting Nick see her cry, wearing what she wants, driving what she wants—her relationships start to clarify. The silver bracelet symbolizes Josh’s inattentiveness; the Porsche and leather pants symbolize rebellion and self-definition; the peppy “Walking on Sunshine” soundtrack feels like the loop’s taunt, daring Emilie to define herself anyway. The time loop itself functions as a coming-of-age crucible, stripping away her checklists until what’s left is choice, not choreography, and connection, not performance.
Key Quotes
“Fuck ’em.”
Nick’s mantra slices through Emilie’s people-pleasing. It becomes the pivot from managing impressions to honoring her needs, freeing her to abandon a failing “fix-it” plan and pursue a life she actually wants.
“WHATEVER I FUCKING FEEL LIKE.”
Emilie’s new to-do list turns into a mission statement. By centering desire over duty, she discovers the limits of consequences inside the loop and the beginnings of a more honest self outside it.
“Walking on Sunshine.”
The relentlessly upbeat wake-up song mocks her spiraling day, underscoring how the loop refuses to match her emotional reality—and nudging her to create meaning rather than wait for it.
“I love Metallica.”
Emilie uses this line as a loop test—and Nick uses it as a barometer of authenticity. The exchange kickstarts their debates about performance versus preference and foreshadows their deeper connection.
Why This Matters and Section Significance
Chapters 6–10 establish the loop’s rules and dismantle Emilie’s illusion that she can plan her way to happiness. As the “perfect” day fails to break the cycle, the novel shifts from rom-com chaos to character excavation: Josh’s shine dulls, Nick’s depth emerges, and Emilie moves from compliance to agency. By the end of Chapter 10, she is done chasing checklists and ready to live boldly inside the loop—a choice that reorients the story toward genuine connection, risk, and the messy work of becoming herself.