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Dillon lifted a bold brow. “Not a chance.”

I laughed. “Has anyone ever told you you have a bit of an ego, Dillon Sinclair?” I slid my thumb to her palm, trailing it to brush the soft skin of her wrist.

“Did you see the woman I arrived with?” she whispered, closing her fingers around my hand. “How could I not let that go to my head?”

“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“On the contrary—I think it will get me exactly where I want to be.”

Still pinned between two groups of jostling, oblivious partygoers, she snuck a hand onto my hip. “If we go now, we can make the next train to Waterloo.”

I’d have been willing to meet her in homeroom closet after study hall with the direction her hand was traveling, but sweet vengeance got the better of me. “If I recall correctly,” I said, drumming up a coy smile, “you once made me sit through an entire seven course meal, a game ofTwo Truths, after dinner drinks,anddessert, all while you chatted up my ex-boyfriend, before allowing us to leave.” I made to step past her, pausing only to whisper in her ear, “payback’s a bitch,” before I straightened and said brightly, “now, go have some fun with your friends!” and strolled to the bar.

An entireSpice Girlssoundtrack later, I stood nursing a watered-down gintini, watching Dillon clown around with Sam on the dance floor. Sam was blitzed, and Dillon couldn’t dance, but neither seemed to care. It felt good to see Dillon having so much fun. To see her laughing. To see her happy.

“You should go and dance with her.”

I hadn’t noticed Kelsey come up beside me, where I’d found a quiet space at the end of the indoor bar.

Startled, I struggled through an uncomfortable laugh. “Oh, I’m not—it’s, um—we’re not like that.”

Like that.For real, Kam? What was this, second grade?

“Ah.” Kelsey leaned against the bar top. “Does she know that?”

“Come again?”

“Does she know you two aren’t—” she paused with her glass at her lips, “—like that?”

Ah, yes. Here we were. The jealous ex and the next. Just the thing I would have preferred to avoid. I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.

“Look—I know you’re sleeping with her. I could read it all over her face the moment I walked through the door. There’s no point debating it.”

“Oh-kay,” I drew out. She was so blunt, I didn’t know what else to say. “Sorry,” I added, after a beat of silence, even though the only thing I was sorry about was being unable to find a polite way to excuse myself from this conversation.

“Don’t be. I’m relieved.” She tipped back her drink, her pink manicured nails a unique dichotomy to the healing turf rash running down her forearm.

Surprise must have shown on my face. It wasn’t what I’d expected her to say.

“Don’t get me wrong—she cut me pretty deep. It took a long time to get over her, and the way she left things.” A streak of condensation dripped off her glass. She dabbed at it carelessly. “But I’m really happy now—I, uh,” glancing around, she lowered her voice, “I actually just got engaged. We’ve kept it quiet. I wasn’t…” her gaze drifted across the bar to where Dillon was patiently steering an extremely inebriated Sam off the dance floor. “I wasn’t sure how she’d take the news.” She looked back at me. “So it was good, seeing her with you tonight. It’s obvious you’re more to her than just a weekend fling.”

I looked away, feeling guilty about having misread the jealous-girlfriend thing. I was also a little concerned with how easily she’d seen through me.

“So much for keeping that on the down low,” I tried to joke, but didn’t quite succeed.

Kelsey smiled. “I doubt anyone else was paying that close attention. I just—I’ve seen her with enough women over the last couple of years to know—and tonight she just seemed different. It’s been a long time since she’s looked so happy.” She let out a short breath. “Sorry, I guess I just—I still really want the best for her. When Sam called me last week…” she tapped hernails against the bottom of her glass. “I know it’s no longer my place, but I still worry about her sometimes. I used to think she was indomitable. That nothing could bring her down. But she’s too hard on herself, you know? Sometimes I think she needs someone to remind her life isn’t just about the finish line.”

It was an interesting outlook, I thought, from someone I imagined was as competitive as Kelsey Evans. But then again, I knew it was possible to be competitive without turning it into an obsession. Dillon, no question, bordered on the latter.

But we all had our things, didn’t we? Our highs and lows. Our ups and downs.

“Anyhow,” Kelsey’s laugh was nervous, a sound that came as a contradiction from the perfection of her flawless lips, “now that I’ve made things super weird…” She shifted the conversation, asking me aboutSand Seekers, and talking about playing in the WSL. She offered to get me tickets to a Chelsea match and I congratulated her on her engagement—Abby Sawyer was a legend on the US team.

I’d have to come and meet her, Kelsey insisted. One day when I was in town.

We chatted for a while longer, through one gintini too many, and by the time I left the tavern, it was me Dillon was inelegantly pouring into a cab.

“It’s what you get, Kam-Kameryn,” she needled as she guided me through the apartment door, “trying to win a drinking match with an English footballer.”