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I tilt it back and swallow what’s left in a single audible gulp. The cider singes my tongue, the whiskey setting fire to my blood.

“I have a favor to ask.” I reach for the thermos and refill the cup, grateful for the excuse to not look at Wyatt.

“Answer’s yes.”

“Let me ask it first.”

“Answer’s still yes.”

Goddamn it, leave it to Wyatt to make me smile, despite the tightly wound feeling in my chest.

“Last night, your little trick worked—you pretending to be into me to get Beck’s attention.”

“You go home with him?”

The sharpness of Wyatt’s tone has my head snapping in his direction. His eyes are narrowed, mouth a tight line.

“No. But I—I think I could go home with someone like him if, you know…” Swallowing, I look away. Look down at the steaming cup of cider in my hand. “If I could just get out of my head a little and have fun with him. With guys in general, I mean. The way I have fun with you.”

His expression smooths ever so slightly. “You sayin’ I’m the best time you’ve ever had?”

Grinning, I lean over to gently elbow him. “I’m saying you have a way of making me feel comfortable in my own skin. I’m able to have a good time with you without overthinking things, which is what I do when I’m with other guys.”

His forehead scrunches. “What do you overthink?”

“Whatdon’tI overthink?” I scoff. “I get so self-conscious when I’m trying to flirt. Like I can’t get out of my own way. I worry that I talk too much or not enough.Am I coming on too strong? Am I wearing the right thing?Sayingthe right thing?I try so hard to be what Ithinkguys want me to be that I can’t just…be.”

“Maybe you’re hangin’ with the wrong guys, then.”

“I think I just need to take a page out of your book and learn how to let loose a little. If I could feel as comfortable around other guys as I am around you…”

“Right.” He smiles tightly. “You’d be able to have fun with them too.”

My heart dips at the emptiness of his smile. It doesn’t touch his eyes. There’s no way Wyatt is jealous because he thinks of me as a sister. Maybe it’s annoyance I see in his expression? Which I get. With any other guy, I’d immediately back down. Dash home with my tail between my legs.

But I’m determined to get my confidence back. I have to learn to stop overthinking everything, or I’m never going to have a good time with a member of the opposite sex. I’m never going to have good sex, period.

Ultimately, I’m never going to get excited about leaving Texas for New York, which would be a big fucking problem.

It’s now or never. And didn’t Wyatt already say yes? I have nothing to lose.

That’s not true, and you know it.

Shoving that thought aside, I take a deep breath. “I bet you’ve already had fifteen people ask you to go to the potluck, but of course you’re not going because you’re, well, you?—”

“I wasn’t planning on going, no.”

I look up and my stomach swoops at the strange, almost-feral look in Wyatt’s blue eyes.

“But you wanna ask me to be your date, then yeah. Answer’s yes. How many times I gotta repeat myself?”

My heart flutters, and I feel a tickle in the back of my throat. “Don’t change your plans for me. I have an ulterior motive.” Oh God, best to just come out with it. “If you pretended to be my date—like, maybe if I have fun with you, it will give me the confidence boost I need to have fun with other guys…”

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Why’re you doing this, Sally? You want to be with Beck, ask Beck to be your date. He’ll say yes.”

My face burns with embarrassment. “I can’t. Not without getting all uptight about, well, everything. I feel like I need a lesson in how to just…let loose and have fun on a date. And, well, who better than you to teach me? You’re always having fun. And it seems like you make girls feel really, really good about themselves—they can’t get enough of you.”

Silence.