“I mean, how am I supposed to keep my Streaks alive?” I moaned to Merit as we sat side by side at the top of the porch steps after our assigned homework time. He was wearing blue Patagonia baggies with a white Juniper Shores Surf Shop T-shirt that might as well have been a tux for how irresistible he was in them. He had legendary hair. It was shaggy, sun-streaked blond, and kind of flipped up around his face. He was perfect. And I was with him. So, that part of the mommune wasn’t all bad.

I was half whining to Merit, half aware that every cell in my body felt more alive from the mere fact that it was this close to Merit’s body. Was it even possible for a human to be as hot as he was? I’d seen him plenty, sure. But not this close up. He was flawless. I mean, what sixteen-year-old guy didn’t have even a hint of acne?

He did this little snort thing out of his nose. “Oh, Iris, Iris, Iris, thank goodness I am here. I have so very much to teach you.”

The way he said it made my breath catch. I hoped he didn’t notice. Maybe I shouldn’t have been complaining. When you thought about it, I had won the lottery. I was getting to live with the hottest guy in the junior class, which gave me ample opportunity to get in his good graces. If he couldn’t so much as text another girl after dinner, it definitely gave me an advantage. I mean, I guessed he could call someone on that landline in his room. But who would even talk on the phone? The idea was totally ridiculous. I could think of many, many things I wanted Merit to teach me. I was, like, practically the only girl in the ninth grade who hadn’t been kissed. Well, maybe not the only one. But the only one of my friends. It was definitely a goal for the year. And now it suddenly made sense. Why have a boring, run-of-the-mill kiss with some rando freshman when your first kiss could be the hottest junior in school? I felt like, for the first time since my life fell apart, God was smiling on me.

“Iris, you just have to get a burner phone.”

Um, phone customs of teenage delinquents weren’t high on the list of things I wanted to learn from Merit. But okay. Whatever. “I’m sorry. What? A burner phone? Like a drug dealer?”

I’d basically only seen burner phones on twisty dramas about criminals on the run. Oh my gosh. Did my dad have a burner phone? I was sort of in denial about my dad being, you know, in jail. It just didn’t seem like it could be real. But he was innocent until proven guilty. Why didn’t the rest of the world see that?