It was noon by the time Peyton got home, so there was about a fifty percent chance that Kensie was up. She braced herself as the elevator door opened to her apartment, her lip protruding when she saw a tear-streaked Kensie on the couch, swaddled from head to toe in her king-sized comforter, her big, wet eyes staring blankly at the television. Approaching carefully, Peyton waved a hand in front of Kensie’s eye line, trying to get her dazed attention.

“Hey. You.”

Kensie blinked, her big, wet eyes turning from the flat-screen to Peyton. “Oh, hi. I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“What’s going on, buddy?” Peyton asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

Kensie chewed her lip, tossing the remote aside with dejection. “Oh, nothing. Just realizing for the millionth time that I’m a total idiot.” Her voice cracked on the last few words. Peyton heaved a sigh and plunked herself down on the couch next to Kensie.

“I’m taking it you heard about Mila and Connor.”

“Only everywhere.” Kensie wiped the fresh stream of tears running down the side of her cheeks. She turned to Peyton with a pitiful look. “It just… hurts ‘cause she’s like, one of my closest friends. And I feel like I really like him. He’s just so gorgeous. And he’s so nice.”

Peyton paused. “We’re talking about Connor Schaffer right now?”

“Who else would I be talking about?” Kensie asked, genuinely confused. She blinked at Peyton for a few seconds before sighing and staring down at her hands, which inadvertently caught one of her tears. “We talked so much after you left last night, Peyton,” she said, her voice quiet. “For like, hours. About the script and my favorite movies and his favorite movies and my dreams and his dreams. I thought he didn’t go home with me that night because he actually… liked me. Like, really liked me, to the point where he’d want to go on a real date with me before trying to get into my pants.” She laughed, looking up at Peyton again. “After everything that’s happened, I still thought that a smart guy could be dumb enough to like me.” Kensie laughed quietly, drying her eyes with the back of her hands. “How silly am I?”

Peyton frowned, feeling her nose crinkle in the way it did when she tried not to tear up. “Kensie. Anybody would be lucky to have you. You’re kind and gorgeous and talented and you have the biggest heart in the world. So please don’t judge your worth based on some dude, especially not Connor Schaffer.”

Kensie wiggled her pursed lips. “It just feels like I keep losing. I dated a bunch of jerks and spoiled druggies. I spent three years with… with…”

“Let’s not even say his name.”

“Okay,” Kensie laughed, sniffling. Peyton sighed.

“Honestly, Kenz, Connor hooking up with Mila has nothing to do with how good or smart you are or aren’t. It has to do with Connor probably wanting to keep things professional,” Peyton said, remembering the promise she had held Connor to before leaving. She had asked him not to hurt Kensie. In her mind, that meant not sleeping with her, which he did right. But in Connor Schaffer fashion, he had to screw it all up by sleeping with one of her best friends. Brilliant. Now he’d probably torn apart the friendship of two girls who had known each other since the eighth grade. “So I guess this means you’re pretty mad at Mila?” Peyton asked warily.

“Hm? Oh. No. She had no idea. I never told her I had a crush on Connor.”

“What? You?” Peyton couldn’t even hide her shock. She had to giggle. “Kensie, you tell everyone about your new crushes. Charlie and Randall know all the names of your crushes,” she said, referring to the two doormen downstairs. It was like a tick. Kensie had to tell everyone about her new “prospect” the second it developed. She had once explained it to Peyton, saying that it made the excitement bigger, especially when she finally landed the guy. Then, everyone could celebrate with her, having known what a long road it had been to get to this happy coupling.

Not that that coupling ever lasted very long.

“I didn’t want to jinx it this time because I thought I had a good feeling,” Kensie explained. She sighed. “But I was wrong because I’m always wrong. And I’m beginning to think that some girls are just born the ones you marry and others are born, you know, the ones you fuck,” Kensie said, whispering the word “fuck” as if she didn’t say the word all the time. She looked up at Peyton with a defeated shrug. “I’m not marriage material. All I want is for someone to love me enough to make me his wife but that’s not gonna happen.”

“What? Kensie! You’re marriage material to me,” Peyton said incredulously. “In fact, I love you so much I stood on a stupid, hyped-up bakery line today so I could buy you a cronut,” she said, taking out a surprise paper bag from her tote. Step two of comforting Kensie was always distraction by way of trendy pastry. It always worked like a charm.

“Omigod.” Kensie’s eyes lit up as she took the bag, opened and inhaled. “Oh, P, I love you. Now if I could just find a male version of you.”

“Who isn’t blood-related.”

“Yes,” Kensie giggled. “Though sexing your cousin is legal in some states.”

“Okay, Kensie.”

“What? I’m hopeless and you never date anymore. We might have to get married to each other if we’re both single at forty,” Kensie argued seriously. She watched Peyton’s face contort with an odd look before bursting into laughter. “I’m just kidding. We can’t be a couple ‘cause if I marry you, I won’t have a maid of honor.”

“Yes, that’s the main reason it shouldn’t happen.”

Kensie smiled. She dug through her pastry bag, pluckign it out and taking a bite. “Mm. Thank you, P. You always know how to make me feel better,” she said calmly, sucking in a deep breath as if to meditate. “Now, if I could just distract myself from thinking about Connor for the rest of the night.”

“Hm.” Peyton pursed her lips as she tried to think of a solution. “I’ll take you to dinner tonight if you promise not to make any jokes about cousin-banging.”

Kensie burst out laughing. “Aww! Peyton! You’re gonna be my hot date tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll even let you dress me like you’ve always wanted to.”

“Omigod, so much fun!” Kensie squealed like a madwoman, hopping off the couch and waddling to the kitchen in her blanket like a giant burrito on legs. “I’m gonna make reservations now!”

“Lilac?” Peyton guessed. The West Village eatery was a celebrity hotspot and had been Kensie’s favorite restaurant since Russell first took her there on her twenty-first birthday.

“You know me too well,” Kensie grinned, waddling back to the couch to plant a big kiss on Peyton’s forehead. “’Cause you’re the best date ever, obviously. And we’re going to have the best night over. No. Boys. Allowed.”

* * *

Because it made her so deliriously happy, Peyton let Kensie dress and style her for the very first time. After a trip to a boutique on Greenwich and then MAC on Bleecker, Peyton found herself wearing wild, beach waves, berry lipstick and a racerback mini-dress, which she chose as part of a compromise.

“If you’re not going to wear heels, you have to wear something short,” Kensie said. And since Peyton would rather eat a stiletto than wear one, she opted for the little black dress. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, especially since she still got to wear her parchment Converses. And there was of course the fact that Kensie had been waiting years for permission to dress Peyton, so her sheer joy was totally worth it.

Especially since their private girls’ night would end up truncated anyway.

“Omigod!” a voice squealed just as Kensie and Peyton toasted to their silly date night in Lilac’s coveted corner booth. “Kensie-face!”

Jumping in their seats, Kensie and Peyton looked up at the same time. Crap, Peyton couldn’t help her inward groan when she spotted the flurry of tanned skin, toffee hair and white crochet. It was none other than Poppy Somerville, running full-speed to their table in giant heels and no bra. Peyton eyed Kensie, whose big eyes fluttered as she tried to look convincingly happy to see the girl. But what manifested on her lips was the awkward smile of a first grader on picture day. The corners of her mouth quivered violently as she tried to hold her look in place.

“Hey, Poppy,” Kensie managed brightly. But when she hugged Poppy, she looked over her shoulder at Peyton with a look of pure terror.

Kensie’s relationship with Poppy could be described best with the classic “frenemy” label – but only because Poppy seemed to despise Kensie while obsessing over her at the same time. Having grown up in front of reality show cameras, she was the biggest attention seeker among Kensie’s clique, which was impressive considering the mix of quasi-famous socialites and celebrity children. Generally, it seemed she was envious of the perks of being Kensie – or more specifically, a Cohan.

“Okay, Kenz, so you need to tell me your little secret here,” Poppy said, hands on her narrow hips. “How did you trick Lilac into giving you the corner booth when you’re only here with your little cousin? No offense, P,” she giggled, air-smooching in Peyton’s direction. “But honestly! I’m here with a future frickin’ Hall of Famer and they still stuck us over in general population!” She nodded incredulously over at her table in the middle of the room, where she sat with her date, New York Ranger Alexei Novikov.

Kensie laughed meekly and shrugged. “Oh… I guess I got lucky.”

“You do have all the luck, darling,” Poppy sighed, but then she paused and bit her lavender lips. “Well. In some places more than others – am I right, Peyton?” Her screechy laugh sounded borderline deranged. Peyton glared, reminding herself that she’d barely tried her drink yet, so she’d only be punishing herself if she chucked it in Poppy’s face. Besides, there was a two-percent chance that Poppy hadn’t been referencing Kensie’s failed engagement just now. Clearing her throat, Peyton tried to change the subject.

“Poppy, I think your boyfriend’s waiting for you,” she said since, “Poppy, kindly fuck off to your own table,” seemed a little harsh.

“Oh, but I’m not done catching up with my Kensie!” Poppy pouted, holding Kensie’s hands in hers.

“Oh…” Kensie tried to look disappointed about the prospect of having their chat cut short. It seemed to work too well because Poppy trailed her pinky along her bronzed cheek like an imaginary tear.

“I know, darling! I miss you so much,” she whined. “I guess there’s nothing else we can do but combine our tables right? Excuse me – waiter!”

Before Peyton or Kensie could protest, Poppy ran off to have a waiter bring her drinks and entrees to the booth, pushing some adjacent tables together to extend the space. Scooting her narrow behind into the booth, Poppy sidled right up to Kensie.

“Now this is where I was supposed to be sitting tonight!” she giggled, clinking her flute of champagne against Kensie’s martini glass, which still sat on the table. “I can practically feel everyone’s jealousy! Just wait till the rest of the girls come. I texted them to join – you’re cool with that, right, Kenz?”

“No,” Peyton said just as Kensie nervously breathed, “Sure!” though the look in her eyes said something different.

And suddenly, girl’s night became a party of eight, which grew even bigger as the night went on. Nursing her first cocktail, Peyton shrank back in the corner of the booth, watching Kensie slowly transform for survival purposes into Sloppy K, the notorious party girl who emerged after five or so drinks. Her girlfriends had given her the nickname because whenever hammered, Kensie was prone to such stunts as cannonballing in Prada or improvising awesomely bad rap lyrics that Poppy would record and post on Facebook the next day. Generally, Kensie regretted everything Sloppy K did the night before, but tonight, Peyton had a feeling she needed her drunk alter ego. It was the only way to survive Poppy and the fact that she’d invited not just their girlfriends but all their girlfriends’ boyfriends. It was officially a couples’ night – and the kind that forced Kensie to start texting Peyton while sitting right next to her.

Peyton snorted. “Definitely,” she murmured under her breath. Kensie exhaled with relief as she composed another text.

Peyton rolled her eyes at Kensie’s “pretty please” face. It was a well-mastered look. “Fine,” she smirked. “I’ll go.”

“Yay!” Kensie squealed as quietly as possible. And within seconds, she and Peyton had plotted their exit strategy. Claiming to have friends outside, Kensie would go out and try to “get them to come join.” After taking too long, Peyton would go after her, taking the purse and phone that she’d left behind. Once they were both out, they’d leave and never look back.

“Uh-oh. I think I know what you’re really doing,” Poppy lilted the second Kensie stood up. She grinned devilishly when Kenzie froze in her place. “You’re going to secretly hurl right now, aren’t you? Don’t even lie, ‘cause we had a Sloppy K pool going, and I predicted that you’d be going pukie-puke at 1AM – which means I totally win!” She squealed and held her hand up for a high-five, which went unreturned till she leaned all the way down the table.

Since Kensie blinked with no response, Peyton broke the silence. “Definitely ignore anyone who says ‘pukie-puke’ and isn’t a toddler,” she said. And as several laughs ripples across the table, Peyton flashed Kensie an urgent look and mouthed “go” since she had little desire to stay at the table for much longer herself – especially not with Poppy wearing The Look. The Look was one that clouded her face whenever someone laughed at her instead of with her. For Poppy, being the butt of a joke was a fate worse than death, so she always required the last word. Peyton anticipated it as Poppy whisper-yelled at her boyfriend before gathering herself, patting her hair and taking a long swill of her champagne cocktail.

“Surprise, surprise, Peyton Green is being a buzzkill,” she announced with an exaggerated sigh. “I mean honestly, why are you even here?”

Peyton feigned innocence. “I don’t know. I was just having dinner with my cousin and then you invited yourself into our booth.”

With her friends tittering, Poppy put on her best incredulous look. “I invited myself to your table? That’s cute, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Really. But before Peyton could respond, Poppy’s boyfriend blinked and pointed toward the dining room. “I think Peyton is saying how we were sitting there at first. And then you make the waiter move the table,” Alexei explained with true innocence.

Bless you, Alexei.

As Kensie’s friends burst out laughing, Peyton took the time to scoot herself out of the booth unnoticed. She wore a big, Cheshire cat grin as she neared the exit, ready to tell Kensie all about Poppy’s lie and her instant karma. But the second she burst out the door, her smile slid straight off her face. Because standing on the sidewalk next to Kensie was Connor Schaffer.

With Mila Milani.

“Look at the happy couple I ran into!” Kensie breathed. She turned to Peyton with a look of distinct panic beneath her smile. Peyton clenched her jaw.

You have got to be kidding me, jackass, she cursed, her eyes locked upon Connor, who turned every female head on the sidewalk in a crisp white button-up, dark jeans and that crooked, asshole smile of his. God, Peyton found it so thoroughly annoying. What the hell is even wrong with this guy? Was it not enough for him to sleep with Kensie’s best friend? Did he really have to come along and parade his new relationship around – at their dinner no less?

“Kensie said you guys are going to The Green Room, so Connor and I are gonna come with,” Mila said excitedly. “I haven’t been there in forever and I’d so rather be there right now than at dinner with Poppy,” she snorted. “I guess I’ll just run inside and make a quick appearance before I leave with you guys. Come with me, Kenz?”

“Oh – okay!”

Peyton eyed Kensie. Her inability to say “no” was starting to become a serious handicap.

“I’ll just be a second, Peyton,” Kensie said with forced pep before letting Mila pull her inside.

And suddenly, Peyton was alone with Connor on the sidewalk.

Goddamn. Connor exhaled as he cursed to himself. He had imagined what Peyton might look like in a little black dress but the reality was even better than the image his mind had conjured, and that was very much a rarity.

“Don’t do that,” Peyton snapped, stirring Connor from his leg-induced stupor. He tore his gaze off of her ridiculously toned thighs and looked at her. Everything about her was so damned sexy when she was mad. Her lips were swollen and red, and her chest heaved under her dress. Her almond eyes narrowed to the point of looking razor sharp at the ends, and she looked ready to actually kill Connor. But for some reason, he couldn’t stop looking.

“I’m sorry, what are we fighting about now?” he asked.

“We aren’t fighting about anything. I’m just in awe of the fact that you would go back on your promise about Kensie so quickly. But then again, I probably never should’ve trusted you with anything involving honor or you know, morality.”

Connor smarted. “Christ. Hello to you, too.”

“So what, you’re dating Mila Milani now?”

“Not exactly, and I didn’t know you or Kensie would be here when I came. Contrary to whatever you think, I am trying to hold up my promise not to hurt her or upset her or whatever.”

“In case you’re unaware, sleeping with her best friend is a bad start.”

“Well, my top choice bailed early the other night, so all I had left was Mila,” Connor smirked, watching Peyton narrow her eyes as she figured out what he was saying. He laughed when her cheeks went pink. “Also, you should know I didn’t sleep with Mila. I don’t mean to shock you, but sometimes tabloids make up stories.”

Peyton crossed her arms. “For some reason, it’s not so hard to believe the ones they write about you.”

“Of course not. I’m sure that’s a natural reaction when, to remind you again, you know nothing about me.”

“Except the dozens of identical stories that people have echoed about you to the media, which yes, is full of shit, but when twenty different women claim the same, shitty thing about you, you kind of have to start giving it some credit.”

Connor cocked an eyebrow. “And what’s that unanimously shitty claim they make about me?”

Aside from the skills in bed and your big, famous dick? “That you’ll sacrifice anyone’s feelings and screw anyone over,” Peyton answered stiffly. “As long as it benefits you, your career or most importantly, your sexual pleasure.”

Connor laughed. “Welcome to Hollywood.”

“God.” Peyton wrinkled her nose. “What, is being repulsive like a sport to you?”

“As much as self-torture is to you.”

She bristled. “Come again?”

“I’m still playing our little game of assumptions here, but something tells me that being at Lilac with the socialite brigade isn’t exactly your scene. And as hot as you look in black leather, I’m gonna guess this wasn’t your pick tonight either,” he smirked, his eyes falling to Peyton’s lips as they parted to fire back.

But before she could say a word, Mila and Kensie emerged loudly from Lilac.

“Connor, Peyton – we’re gonna be drinking heavily tonight!” Mila announced with a strained, tight-lipped smile on her face. Before Peyton could ask for an explanation, she watched Poppy and the rest of the dinner party file out of Lilac, whooping and ready for a night of guaranteed debauchery at The Green Room.

Great. Can’t wait.

And just like that, Peyton and Kensie’s girls’ night in turned into everything they had never hoped for.