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I pull her into a hug. “Thanks, Paige.”

“Don’t make it weird.” She looks back at the field. “I hate his fucking friends.”

We win by seventeen, and the whole student section stays for the fight song, which nobody except Kenzie knows the words to, so the rest of us make noises at the right times for the hell of it. Then we walk to the place that does the fries and eat outside at a metal table in the cold with our hands in our sleeves, and Bianca tells us about a guy in her class who asked her out in the middle of a lab practical.

When we get back to Corvin, the girls pile into my room, and Tessa doesn’t hide at her desk. She sits on the floor with her back against her own bed and eats the fries she put in a to-go container and talks to everybody. Bianca makes another round of her cranberry drink, and we all take a sip from the same cup, and there’s maybe a drop of juice in it. I know I make a face because it’s strong. When it’s Tessa’s turn, she doesn’t make a face at all. How?

“We’ve unlocked Tessa 2.0,” I announce.

Tessa takes one more sip and laughs.

“It’s happening,” Paige hollers. “Another hot girl in the group.”

Tessa passes her the cup, and Paige takes a long sip and makes a face, and we all laugh. “Oh my God, Bianca! This is straight liquor.”

Bianca takes it back and pours in a tiny drop of cranberry. “There.”

We laugh and pass it around again.

Everybody clears out around one-thirty. Tessa goes to bed. I take my makeup off and get into my own bed with my hair still smelling like fries, and my phone lights up.

Nash. Finally.

“Hi,” I whisper, and pull the blanket over my head so I don’t wake Tessa.

FaceTime opens on his face. He’s lying down with the hotel headboard behind him, hair wet, the lamp off on one side of the room and a strip of light coming from somewhere beside him.

“You’re drunk,” he says.

I roll my eyes and smile. “Barely.”

“Where were you?”

“Football game.” He knows this. I told him three times and sent him a picture. “Woodbury won by seventeen.”

He doesn’t look like he cares.

“Nash.” I get closer to the phone and whisper, “Tessa came.”

“Okay.”

“No,” I smile. “You don’t understand.”

And then I tell him everything, in no order at all. Every single detail of the night. He doesn’t say much. He’s wrecked; I can see it. His eyes are barely open. So I stop babbling and lean in and kiss the screen, and that makes him laugh.

I pull the blanket down off my face. He’s got the phone propped on something and his arm over his head, and he’s looking at me.

“How was your game?” I finally ask.

“We lost.”

“I’m sorry.”

He stares at the screen. I want to kiss him.

“I miss you,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Tomorrow.”