Over the past few weeks, Reid and I have resumed working together in a dysfunctional writing cave while Makayla has been preparing for basketball tryouts and Arjun has been planning the upcoming pep rally. I’m so glad they’re here. I’m glad that in this sea of semi-familiar faces, HAVE A HE(ART) is reunited.

Makayla and Arjun head toward the folding table set up against the back wall to grab a drink and I, pizza bagels still in hand, push through a group of quasi-drunk thespians dancing to “Aquarius” and place them on the coffee table next to bowls of popcorn and Doritos. I assume that’s the name of the song. I’m not sure what musical it is from or how they’re performing an actual choreographed dance to it. So I just sip on a vodka cranberry, the white girl of mixed drinks, and accept whatever is happening.

I don’t hate it, but I don’t love feeling left out of the loop at my own birthday party either.

So I pivot and head upstairs to check on Fitz and the chocolate chip cookies she’s baking—a birthday party tradition. When I approach the stairs, I have to blink once, twice, because Henry and Danica are making out. On the stairs. My stairs. I duck right and swing the studio door open, quickly tucking myself inside. I shut and lock it behind me, then press my back against the door, eyes squeezed shut as if it will erase what I just witnessed.

I’ve never been more grateful for soundproof technology.

Do I intervene? I mean, as someone who witnessed Henry take three tequila shots in a row I can guarantee he is definitely not sober. He also really likes Danica—and I’m going to be the one who deals with the blowback of Henry’s Emotions tomorrow when—

“Hey.”

The shock of the sound makes me scream and jump backward, whacking my head against the door, shit. My eyes pop open and adjust to the fluorescent lights. Reid is sitting at the piano, his back to me. Reid is here, working on songs for the musical, while our prospective cast is getting trashed in the next room.

Reid is sort of at a party I did not invite him to. A party he could totally expose.

He turns to face me, almost guilty, as his fingers move up down the keys. “I used my studio key.” When my parents designed the studio, they chose the side of the basement that has a sliding door out to the backyard, so Dad’s students can enter and exit the space without walking through the house. “I didn’t know you were having people over.”

I sit on the floor, back still pressed against the door. “Please, at least give me a heads-up.”

Reid raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“You know. Before you tell my dad.”

Reid stops playing. “It’s your birthday, Natalie.”