“You haven’t really answered any of my texts, R. Are you mad at me?”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy with sch—”

“I see,” Leila says, nodding toward me. “So busy.”

Benny slowly walks over to me and hands me a cup of jungle juice. I down it in one gulp and shiver from the horrible, bitter taste. It tastes like straight kerosene and feeds the fire in my belly. He quickly takes it and refills it.

“It was really great to see you.” Leila grabs Rae’s hand and swings it like they’re young kids on the playground. “I would love it if we could reconnect. There’s no reason why we can’t be friends.”

Rae nods, but I can tell she’s not sure what to say.

I can’t listen to this anymore. I grab my cup from Benny, take another swig that goes down much easier, and push my way past people until I reach the center of the dance floor. Suddenly, someone grabs my waist, and I turn to see Sofía in a short neon-yellow bob wig and a paint-splattered white dress.

“I thought that was you!” She hugs me, and our bodies press together.

Everything blurs as our hips sway and grind to the beat of a song I don’t know. I tip the cup to my lips and drain it. I have no idea how much time has passed, but we cycle through songs, and suddenly Chloe is behind me and Rae is to my side as Harry watches us from afar, eyes wide. A hard-techno remix of Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the USA,” a song Rae and I used to love when we were kids, crashes through the speakers, and we’re both infected by its snap, crackle, pop confection. I start scream-singing the lyrics, and Rae follows suit until the entire party is backing us as we mosh. For a while, at least the length of one song, I forget about Leila and Jack.

It’s hard to focus, but I think Benny and Xavier are making out in a dark hallway. I can only tell because aside from Rae, they’re the two tallest people here. I want to enjoy this because it’s fun and something I don’t normally do, but my thoughts return to Jack.

Each 808 beat reminds me of the way my chest flutters when I’m around him.

The way our bodies entwine makes me yearn for his.

If I keep my eyes closed, I can pretend it’s him I’m holding instead of Chloe or Sofía or Rae; that’s the magic of imagination. But when I open them, I see he’s just out of arm’s reach. Touching him would be a different kind of magic.

Sweat trickles down my back, and everything overwhelms me: the heat of the party and the bodies and the jungle juice and Leila’s unexpected presence and the look of betrayal on Jack’s face that replays in my mind like the chorus of a shitty song.

“Excuse me,” I say.

“You okay?” Rae asks.