“You need something?” A waitress had appeared next to me, holding an empty tray down by her side. She was looking at me skeptically.

“Um . . . just the restroom,” I said.

She pointed in the direction I’d come from. “That way.”

I glanced but tried not to let my gaze linger, since the guy whose fingers I’d mashed was still over there. “Thanks.”

She started to move on, then stopped again. “You sure you don’t need anything? You seem, like, nervous or something. Someone giving you trouble? We don’t tolerate that here.”

Shit. I chuckled and willed myself to press my nerves down. “No, I’m just . . . the guy I’m into is here and I’m totally geeking out about it. I’m such a dork.”

I had inadvertently nodded my head toward the guys who were messing with Shelby and Luna, and the waitress followed the gesture. “Those guys?” She leaned in, touched my arm. “Trust me, sweetie. You don’t want them. They’re here all the time. Different night, different girl. They aren’t exactly what you would call marriage material, if you know what I mean.”

I grinned. “Neither am I.” Truth.

She shrugged. “Well, have at it, then. Maybe those two girls won’t put out, and you’ll have the road paved for you.”

She moved on, stopping to pick up empty glasses and bottles along the way. I drifted away, pausing in as many unobtrusive places as I could find. I could feel eyes on me. I hated being in crowds for this very reason. The constant assessing, the feeling of being on show. The pool rippled green and bumpy, what I thought of as “pickle green”—the color I saw when I felt self-conscious.

Finally, the guys got up and pulled off their shirts, wandered over to the pool, and jumped in. The girls egged them on while holding up their drinks, toast-style.

If there was a time, it was now.

I briskly headed toward them.

“Does your parole officer know you’re partying?” I asked, coming around the corner, fast, at Luna. I whipped out my phone, ready to dial the police; I wanted Luna to see me doing it.

She jumped. “What the hell?”

Only it wasn’t Luna sitting next to Shelby Gray. It was a different blond girl. The third in Luna’s trio: Eve Keller.

Shelby flopped back against the lounge and rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Nikki Kill. For the Will Never Go Away files.”

I realized I hadn’t moved. I was still holding up my phone threateningly. My shoulders sagged. “Are you serious? Eve.”

“What the hell?” Eve repeated, this time looking over at Shelby helplessly.