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She looks at me shyly. “I’m really not, okay? Count me out.”

Bianca wants us all to be different versions of the same thing. I say I’m fine with whatever as long as it’s warm, because I’ve learned some hard lessons about October in this state, and Kenzie says that’s the worst attitude she’s ever heard.

“What about Nash?” Bianca says.

“He said no.”

“To what?”

“To everything. He said no before I finished my sentence.”

Paige scoffs. “He’ll do it.”

“He said—”

“Kylie.” She points her water bottle at me. “He carried you out of a house. He’s made you his girlfriend. He’ll put on a fucking costume, trust me.”

And because we’re talking about relationships, Kenzie says, “What are you and Koda doing?”

Paige looks pissed at that. “What?”

It comes out so fast that it lands in the middle of the room like something dropped.

Nobody says anything. Bianca looks up from her phone.

“There is no me and Koda,” Paige says.

And then she asks Kenzie what the fifth element is supposed to be, and the room moves on, and I sit there on my own bed with my mouth shut for once in my life.

I finally swap the laundry at five, after the girls all leave. I’m coming back up from the basement with a basket on my hip when I hear voices in the stairwell.

“Paige,” Koda says.

I stop on the landing below. I can see them through the gap in the railing. She’s already three steps up with her keys in her hand.

“Paige.”

She doesn’t stop.

“Are you serious?” Koda says.

She turns around.

I’ve known Paige for two months. I’ve seen her scream at a referee about a play that happened forty yards away from her. I’ve seen her get in a girl’s face at a party over a coat. I have never seen her face look like it looks right now, and it isn’t angry.

“Not here,” she says.

And she goes up the stairs and through the door, and it shuts.

Koda stands there with his hand on the railing. Then he starts walking up to his floor on five, and the door shuts behind him.

There are about nine questions sitting in my head right now as I work my way up to the third floor.

I put my laundry away, and then I go to Nash’s to do my homework. His bed has become my study spot.

Rafe’s getting ready to go somewhere. He’s ironing a shirt on a towel on his desk, which is an unhinged thing to see a scary hockey player do.

“Where are you going?” I ask him out of curiosity.