“Oh. Shit.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Sorry. Were you trying to . . .”

“No! God. No. He was shady.”

“Yeah, you looked really uncomfortable.”

“I did?”

Will laughs. “Yeah, your body language was like . . .” He sits up rigidly straight with crossed arms and a look of utter terror on his face.

“I did not look like that!”

“I mean, I thought you were going to vom. That’s kind of your thing, right? Public barfing?” He grins.

“Touché.” I smile back at him.

God. He really is so beautiful. His eyes are supernaturally blue. And he’s funny and nice and smart and all the other things boys should be. Not to mention that he’s best friends with my sister’s girlfriend. It would make a lot of sense for me to fall for him.

Much more sense than Reid, for example.

I lean back against the cushions and squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them, I catch a glimpse of yellow shorts and tangled legs on an armchair across the room.

It’s Cassie and Mina.

The funny thing is, Cassie’s always described her hookups in glorious detail, but I’ve never watched one happen. I’ve never actually seen her make out with someone.

It’s weird.

And sort of sweet.

But mostly weird.

They’re completely intertwined. That’s the main thing. It’s not even that they’re kissing continuously, but there’s no space between their bodies anywhere. I watch as Cassie tucks a lock of Mina’s hair behind her ear, and Mina’s lips twitch into a smile. Then Cassie says something, and Mina laughs, and they kiss again, and Cassie’s hand cups Mina’s cheek.

I definitely shouldn’t be watching this. Though I guess I’m not the only one. At least three dudes are blatantly staring at Cassie and Mina like they’re the Super Bowl.

The futon creaks, and I suddenly remember Will is sitting beside me. He’s tucked one of his legs up, bent at the knee, and he’s tugging at his shoelaces. And looking pointedly away from the armchair.

“Are you freaked out by it?” I ask, and my voice comes out quiet.

He looks up at me with a start. “By Mina and Cassie?”

“I don’t know.” I smile slightly. “I guess?”

He leans back, staring at the ceiling. “I think they’re good together.”

“Oh, well, yeah. I just mean the fact that they’re making out in front of us. It’s like watching your parents make out, you know?”

He laughs. “Sort of.”

I sneak another glance at them. They seem so separate from this room. Like they’re on a piece of driftwood, floating. And I feel so lonely, all of a sudden.

Maybe I should reach for Will’s hand or scoot closer or say something uncareful. I could do that, I think.

But then my phone buzzes.

I shouldn’t check it. Not right now. It’s just a text. Probably from Abby. Or from Olivia, who’s still in Pennsylvania with Evan Schulmeister.

I will not be vag-blocked by Evan Schulmeister.

It buzzes again, and I lose my train of thought.

“Anyway, I should probably find Max,” Will says, patting my arm quickly, before hoisting himself up. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” I nod.

It’s funny. I feel less disappointed than I thought I would.

As soon as Will walks away, I peek at my phone.

It’s Reid.

I guess I kind of had a feeling.

So I’m sitting here with Douglas outside of Medieval Madness

And this place is an orgy.

Wait, Douglas would like me to clarify that Medieval Madness is not an orgy. King Street is an orgy.

I lean back into the cushions and giggle quietly. That is hilarious, I write, because I’m at an orgy, too.

He responds right away. Oh, really?

But it’s a classy orgy. Mostly kissing/groping.

And texting . . . he writes.

Which makes me blush. I’m not sure why. And texting.

I really love texting, he writes.

Me too.

Three dots. He’s typing something. I glance up, and it’s funny—I feel sort of invisible. There’s this party happening all around me, and I’m entirely separate. I’m a total ice cube. But in a good way.

You know what would suck about living in the Middle Ages? he writes finally.

The bubonic plague? I reply.

Yes. But also. No texting.

Three dots. He’s typing something else.

But imagine if there WAS texting in the Middle Ages.

I smile. Oh, you’re really thinking about this, I write back.

Yes.

So, what would medieval people have texted?

Three dots.

Chaucer quotes. Codpiece selfies.

Yeah. Holy shit. This boy is funny over text.

I can totally see you sending a codpiece selfie to Queen Elizabeth, I write.

Wrong time period, but yes. G-d yes.

AND HE DOES THE JEWISH THING WITH GOD’S NAME. FUCK.

That’s cute.

Step it up, Molly.

“Elizabeth. R U a virgin? Luv Reid” I type.

He writes back immediately. “Nope.” Winky-face emoji.

Uh, wasn’t she the virgin queen?

Not if I’d been alive, he writes.

Sorry, but who is this boy? Because I’m pretty sure he’s flirting. And I did not realize Reid Wertheim knew how to flirt.

I bite back a smile.

And I’m about to write back something very uncareful when Cassie collapses on the couch beside me. “There you are! Hey. Okay. Guess what.” She leans her head on my shoulder and smiles up at me. “You, Molly Adele, get the Lexus tonight!”

I just look at her.

“Why are you making the Molly Face, Molly Face?” She giggles.

“Okay, how drunk are you?”

“Just a little,” she says, and sighs. “Molly.” She nuzzles into the crook of my neck. “You always smell so flowery.”

I laugh. “It’s our shampoo. You literally use the same kind. From the same bottle.”

“Yeah, but I don’t smell it on myself. Anyway.” She pokes my arm. “Aren’t you excited? You get to drive Mina’s Lexus.”

“I’m not driving Mina’s Lexus.”

“Okay, well . . . ,” she says, and I start to reply, but she covers my mouth. “No, hear me out. So I know Mina wasn’t going to drink, but we ended up playing Kings, and she’s not drunk, but she’s like a little bit drunk, so we’re just going to play it really safe and crash here. So, if you want to drive it home, you totally can. We just need you to pick us up here tomorrow morning.”