We drove for a bit, lost in our thoughts. After a while, as we paused for a red light, Shanti reached over and flicked my thigh with her fingers. When she spoke, her voice had shifted from serious to shy. “Um—you can totally say no, but I really don’t want to go back to my place. They’ll be partying for hours, and I’m too exhausted to deal with an even drunker Kat. Could we… maybe… hang out at your place? I mean—if your parents wouldn’t mind?”

So many things about her words made me instantly nervous and awkward, which made me say, way too abruptly, “My parents are dead. Car accident.” I made it worse by adding, “They won’t mind.” Fuck.

“Jesus, Daya—I’m so sorry.”

Her face held all the feelings I was so sick of seeing in the months after the accident. Pity. Concern. Uncertainty. Everything I saw in her threatened to bring up feelings I’d been working so hard to keep buried deep. Even after everything she’d shared, the realizations coming to me in her words, the thought of talking about my parents brought back a sudden urge to bring my left hand down against my knee.

“It was a while ago. Don’t worry about it.” I wanted to switch the subject. But I also wanted Shanti to come back to my place. The competing urges made me speechless and frustrated.

Instead of pushing me, Shanti continued driving. I didn’t care where we were going. I was too busy gulping back my irritation with myself for bringing up my parents, and my frustration at not being able to say what I really wanted to say. Not to mention my fear around what I really wanted to say—which was, Yes, come back to my place with me. Please.

As we drove through a desolate industrial section of town, my thoughts banged around in my head. What did I want right now? Definitely not to just go to bed. I couldn’t sleep anyway. But it felt dangerous to be alone with Shanti, especially after she’d opened up about all these things. It felt like it did when Fee tried to nudge me into sharing with them. A pull and an ache all at once. Something about this danger attracted me—maybe something other than a physical pain was what I needed. Maybe the physical pain wasn’t enough anymore. I found myself doing something even more dangerous.

“Turn right at the next light. My place is just up the road.”

When we drove up to the house, I knew Priam and Vicki would be gone, because they’d mentioned some kind of event they had tonight, and I silently thanked the musical theater gods for whatever magic had swept them away.