Positive thoughts: I’m confident, I’m powerful, I’m strong . . . I’m also fifteen minutes late since my feet aren’t as brave as the rest of me.

“I was just about to call you,” Danica says when I finally gather the courage to step inside our apartment. She smiles, and I force a smile back.

“Sorry,” I say as I head toward my room. “I just need to change real quick, and then I’m ready to go.”

“Busy night?” she teases as she follows me, and I swallow my nerves.

“Yeah, sorry. I overslept.”

Danica plops down on my bed as I pull clothes from my dresser, and when she makes no attempt to give me any privacy, I take them to the bathroom in the hall.

“Were you at Leti’s?” she asks through the door, and my throat thickens as I slip a fresh top over my head.

I glance in the mirror and release my lip from my teeth. “Yeah.”

“When am I going to get to meet him?”

I hop into a clean skirt and force a brush through my hair. “Uh, soon.”

“You should go on a double date with Mike and me when he gets home,” she says, and I hesitate with my hand on the knob. God, how can I face her? Mike is on my skin. He’s in my body. I should have showered before I left his place, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to erase the memory of his touch so soon.

I take a deep breath, forcing another smile as I finally open the door. “Ready to go.”

Danica grins and follows me to her car. I try to turn on the radio, but she stops me. “Let’s talk,” she says, pushing my hand away from the dash. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, glancing into her mascara-framed eyes.

“I want to talk about Leti some more,” she says, the corners of her mouth turned up.

“Oh . . . what about him?”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time at his place,” Danica notes, and I straighten my skirt.

“Yeah.”

“It’s like you’re practically living there.”

“I guess . . .”

“Seems like things are really serious between you two.”

“Yeah . . .”

“Are you in love with him?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Uh, I . . . um . . .”

Danica pats my knee. “Oh, sweetie. It’s okay. Of course you are.” I search her expression, and she gives me a sad smile. “You two have been inseparable lately.”

My toes curl painfully in my special-occasion flats, matching how uncomfortable I am.

“But listen,” Danica says, pulling her phone from her cup holder. I wish she would watch the road, but instead, she fiddles with the device in her hand. “I need to show you something, okay?”

I wait, and she eventually hands me the phone. And when I look at it, my eyes flash wide.

“Do you know who that is?” she asks as I stare at a picture of Leti kissing Kale on the mouth, and I nervously shake my head. “That’s your boyfriend’s profile picture.”

“Oh.”

“It was easy to look him up,” she says. “Leti isn’t exactly a popular name. Did you know he’s gay?”

My eyes are saucers when I stare over at her.

“You didn’t know your boyfriend was gay?” Danica asks, and I shake my head.

“See, that’s interesting,” she says with a smile.

“Interesting?” I croak.

“Why wouldn’t Kit tell you that your boyfriend is actually dating her brother? That’s who’s in the picture—Kale Larson. Why wouldn’t your BFFs Dee or Rowan tell you?”

“Kit’s brother?” I ask, trying to gauge how much Danica knows, and she bursts out laughing. She throws her head back, her laughter filling the car as it picks up speed.

“Hailey, you’re so fucking dumb. You can’t lie to me. Did you really think I didn’t know?”

Her laugh is like ice shooting through my veins, and I realize she’s playing with me.

“What do you want?” I ask, and my cousin smiles at me—a glass smile that threatens to shatter and slice me to pieces.

“I want to know where you’ve been.”

She’s holding all the cards, and I can’t tell if she’s bluffing. I search for a tell, a crack in her serpentine smile . . . “You know where I’ve been,” I venture, and Danica’s penny-brown eyes shine.

“Hm,” she hums. “Do I?”

I say nothing, refusing to be a pawn on her board.

“I think you’ve been at my boyfriend’s house,” she finally accuses, and I stare out my passenger-side window, knowing the game is finally over. This isn’t a conversation I wanted to have before Thanksgiving dinner—much less in a moving vehicle that Danica could drive off a bridge on a whim—but I’ve never been in control of this game. Danica has always been in the driver’s seat, and I resign myself to watching the trees we leave behind.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” she asks, but I continue resting my forehead against the glass, ignoring her. “Typical Hailey. Clam up like a coward the minute shit gets real.” I don’t take her bait, and she snaps, “Fucking say something, you stupid bitch!”

“My boyfriend’s house,” I correct her. I lift my head and level her with my stare, and Danica’s face reddens as she glares at me. I don’t back down, and she eventually looks back out at the road, her jaw ticking furiously.