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I take her hand. “Love you, Syd.”

“All right, fuck this.” Riley bats away a tear. “I am not freaking crying tonight. Tell us something more.”

I nod. “Yeah, okay. Well, that first party he hosted after Kolby came here, we, uh … he was a breath away from kissing me, and I heard someone and freaked out, ducked into the kitchen and hid. After that, he found out I was kind of connected and?—”

“Jesus, talk about delayed gratification.” Mags laughs.

All five of us nearly snap our necks with how fast we look at her, but Syd, ever the mom, asks, “And what doyouknow of delayed gratification, Maggie Sawyer?”

“I … I … I’ve watched porn!” she defends herself … sort of.

“Do you love him?” Greer asks.

“Those words have not been exchanged,” I answer.

“Doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there.” Syd winks.

I take another sip of my drink.

“That smile says enough. Let her”—Riley giggles—“keep riding that storm.”

* * *

I’m half-asleep with Riley all but spooning me when I get a text from an unknown number with a picture of a bedroom with soft sage green walls, fairy lights over the headboard, a framed photo of … me at prom with Lewis.

Unknown:

Should I be concerned?

Me:

No. Absolutely not. Tell me you’re not in my childhood bedroom.

I quickly put in his name as#68.

#68:

I am 100% in the room where teenage you probably wrote angsty poetry about the prom queen going to prom with a kid who got a spray tan.

Me:

Jackson was supposed to take you to Hart’s. What the hell? AND, BTW, you leave Lewis alone. I love him!

#68:

He said the guys were already ten rounds deep into a video game bracket and offered a bed so I wasn’t stuck on a couch. Had dinner with your parents and Jackson, saw baby pictures. Actually, ALL the pictures. And question: you love Lewis?

Me:

He was my GBF. He’s in London on the West End now and married to his soul mate, Gregory.

#68:

I hope Gregory never sees this photo.

Me:

Not me wondering if you saw the photos of me pre-braces.