I sucked in a breath and held it, as if that would somehow keep me from bursting into hysterical laughter or full-blown panic. My brain was splitting between two equally dominant reactions: absolute terror at being discovered and the desperate, primal need to laugh at everything happening at once.

“What?” Tiffany blinked at me, then followed my gaze. “Oh. Oh.”

I grabbed her arm, and she squeezed mine back in a death grip as our brains connected at the same time.

“Bev,” Tiffany whispered. “They. Ate. All. The. Brownies.”

The brownies that were absolutely, one-hundred percent, beyond a shadow of a doubt, filled with weed.

I wanted to laugh so badly that my whole body shook with the effort to keep it in. I slapped a hand over my mouth to contain the cackle trying to break free. This was either going to be a disaster or the funniest thing I had ever witnessed.

I think Tiffany said something, but I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t feel my legs and I was still too busy having a full-blown panic attack while also trying not to burst out laughing. It was the worst combination of emotions imaginable.

Tiffany squeezed my arm harder, shaking me. “Shut up, Bev, shut up! You’re gonna make it obvious!”

Too late. Blake and Jamal both turned to us at the same time, and immediately, something in their faces shifted.

Blake narrowed his eyes at both of us, his gaze flicking between my frozen posture and Tiffany’s unhinged expression.

“Are you guys okay?” Jamal asked, mildly suspicious.

“Yes,” I blurted out, way too fast, way too loud. “Why wouldn’t we be okay? We’re just thirsty.”

“Why do you two look like that?” Blake asked slowly.

I could feel his brain kicking into gear. No, no, no…

Tiffany put on her most exaggerated expression of confusion. “Like what?”

“Like two people who just forgot how to use their legs.”

Blake studied me like I was a glitch in the matrix. I could feel the sweat forming at my temples. Could he hear my heartbeat? Was I breathing too loud? Was I even blinking?

I was about to open my mouth, maybe to lie, maybe to confess—I had no idea—but then Tiffany shot forward and pointed an accusatory finger at Jamal. “Why are you here?!” she demanded, as if she’d just caught him sneaking through her bedroom window.

Jamal raised an eyebrow. “I was invited.”

Tiffany scoffed. “Who invited you?”

“I did,” Blake said, watching us more closely now. “And what is wrong with you two?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Tiffany countered, which was possibly the least effective comeback in the history of comebacks. “And you,” she said, still pointing a finger at Jamal like he was the sole cause of all her problems. “You ate all the brownies!”

Jamal looked at the empty plate in front of him, then back at Tiffany. “Yeah,” he replied slowly. “And?”