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Kat chimes in with a, “Yeah, sorry babe, but that wouldsomake you a creep.”

“Maybe hit him up once he’s out of your class?” Maggie adds helpfully with a shrug.

Sita makes some sort of non-committal noise, chugging down the rest of her recently delivered martini.

“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Kat begins, diving into her Three S’s. “Husband and wife sex is the best. Pretty sure I got pregnant last night.”

“You can’t possibly know that yet,” Sita sasses, always the scientist.

Maggie scoots closer to Kat. “Wait. You guys are trying?”

“I mean, not officially,” Kat answers. “But yesterday was a damn good effort in the name of.”

I smile, shaking my head at her. “Nice.”

“Oh, it was so much more than nice,” she hums the words, and we all roll into another fit of laughter.

“And your something to expel?” Sita asks.

“Oh, yes. That.” She diverts her attention to our bartender. “Sam! Another!” And then she turns back to us. “Hand to God, the next person to meow or purr at me in the middle of a traffic violation, is going to get a billy-club shoved up their ass.”

I do spit my drink out at that one. Back into my cup, luckily.

We’re all laughing, beyond tipsy, and it’s been at least two whole hours since I’ve thought about Greyson. But it’s my turn now, and I know I have to tell them about seeing him.

I go all in. “I ran into Greyson last week.”

All heads swivel towards me.

“TheGreyson?” Maggie treads softly.

I nod into my Jameson and Coke.

“What?! Where?!” Sita blurts.

“The coffee shop.Mycoffee shop,” I say, swallowing back the sudden overflow of emotion.Ugh, get it together.

But they home in on this immediately, the mood of our conversation drastically turning from loud and rambunctious to quiet and concerning. Andthis,this is everything.

These girls are my everything. Loving every manic piece of me.

I tell them every detail. The way it felt to see him again. The way I was terrified he had this whole new life I would never fit into—not that I’m supposed to fit into it or anything, but still. The way I ran off and cried into my pillow for two hours straight before putting on my big girl pants and transmuting that shit into something productive. The way I’ve been secretly hoping to run into him again, because I refuse to believe that it ends here. It can’t end here.

They already know about our past. The way we collided in high school and left each other with two different versions of who we used to be. They know he’s a musician. A musician who unexpectedly became famous two years ago when a video of him singing in uniform overseas went viral. Now there are dozens of viral videos. I haven’t watched them, though. Couldn’t bear to after that first one.

Rumor has it there was a slew of record labels waiting for the very minute he was honorably discharged from the military. That not days later, he was signed, working on his first studio album. And now he’s on a country-wide tour.

He is legitimately, bona fide famous, yet somewhere in the depths of my soul, he still feels like mine. The Greyson that changed my life with one look, one word, one touch, one kiss.

Not the world’s Greyson. Butmy Greyson.

Twenty-three Before

OKAY. SO. YES,I hadn’t once thought about kissing him the other night. But—and that was ahugebut—just because I hadn’t thought about kissing him that night, didnotmean that the urge to went away. If anything, it came back with a raging vengeance. Because the need to kiss him tonight felt like a living, breathing thing inside my chest, aggressively attempting to claw its way out. It was all I could think about.

My lips, on his.

His, on mine.