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I don’t argue. He effortlessly holds himself above me, not quite touching, looking down at me like he’s trying to memorize every detail of my face. I rub my foot down his leg to his one-socked foot. I can’t help it. I have to laugh.

“What?’ he says, smiling down at me.

“You sleep with your socks on. And eat cereal in bed.” I shake my head. “I can’t believe we’re living together.”

“It’s just the beginning, love.”

It’s the first time he’s called me that. It’s so cute, I want to scream.

Jonathan lowers himself so he's pressed against me and nuzzles into my neck, his tongue sucking and licking. “Stop, it tickles.” I squirm, twisting my neck so he can’t get to it.

“You’re ticklish everywhere, aren’t you?”

I bite at my lip. “I’m not telling.”

“Is that a dare? You know I don’t back down from dares. I’ll explore every inch of you to find all of your tickle spots.”

“I dare you,” I whisper.

Jonathan pulls the quilt over our heads, and I squeal with laughter. He accepts my dare, exploring every inch until I’m breathless and begging him not to stop.

Should I be worried?” Emma asks as we watch Rachel dancing and singing to the radio, dumping chips into bowls.

“Honestly?” I ask, allowing her to choose whether she wants the truth or sugar-coated optimism.

“Of course.”

“Probably.” I wish I were wrong. But being the center of attention with more alcohol than the dive bar, Rachel brings all the drama. Including accusing Emma and me of something nefarious when we spend sleepless hours on the couch.

Bitter is Rachel’s venom. She hides her fangs well, but when she strikes, she goes for the jugular. I now know this firsthand.

Who wants a shot?” she asks once everyone’s left and it’s only Emma, Evan, me, and a couple of Rachel’s friends left. She lines up the shot glasses on the coffee table, filling them to the brim with tequila. Basically, doubling the shot.

Emma looks pained just smelling it. I don’t think she drinks. Like Sadie—with a few exceptions. I wonder if Sadie drinks now?

“What’s going on downstairs?” I ask a guy standing by the basement door.

“Jello wrestling. Heard two girls are going at it.” He laughs.

“Holy shit, Sadie Prescott is vicious. Kicked Livvy right in the boob,” one girl tells another as they come up the stairs.

What the hell, Sadie. I’m downstairs, pushing through the crowd just as Sadie flips Livvy out of the pool. Collin puts his hands up in victory. “That’s my girl!”

Of course he’s cheering her on. Probably convinced her it was a good idea too. A guy hands him a stack of bills. And he bet on her—goddammit, Collin.

“I hate you!” Livvy screams, tears about to spill from her eyes. Sadie looks confused and starts toward the edge of the pool. “I hate you!” Livvy rushes toward her.

I wrap my arms around Sadie, lift her out of the Jell-O slop, and haul her toward the bathroom as she kicks out at me.

“Stop it,” I say into her ear. She stops kicking, but she’s still struggling in my arms, all worked up.

I shut the bathroom door behind us with a kick of my foot. “Let me go!”

I set her down in the shower. Sadie spins and attempts to shove me away, only knocking herself off balance. “I don’t need—”

“Knock it off.” I turn the shower on cold. Needing her to calm the fuck down. She swats at the water raining down on her face. I lean in and look at her more closely. “Are you drunk?”

She’s covered in Jell-O pieces that melt with the water. It’s in her hair, and she sputters out the colored water as it runs into her mouth. She looks ridiculous and adorable. And I don’t know if I should yell at her for drinking or kiss her because, dammit, I’m so in love with this girl—despite the fact we’re still not speaking. And now is not the time to rectify anything.