We make our way to the fire pit, and the girls surrounding it—who look no older than freshmen—scatter as we approach. Carter provides the supplies while Owen and Derek grab us more drinks. It takes a little more alcohol, but soon I’m relaxing and enjoying the sights and sounds of the party as much as everyone else. I dance with Owen, with Jack and Derek, with Keisha and Brea, with the group as a whole. By the time I notice Jasmine and Carter have disappeared, I’m pleasantly plastered and gossiping with these kids I’ve just met, so I immediately ask what their deal is.

“They just fool around,” says Keisha, scooping sand onto her legs. “Nothing serious, but for the last few summers, like bunnies.”

“Except for a couple of weeks two summers ago when Carter thought he’d met The One—remember that waitress at Sally’s Seafood Shack?” Derek says. “What was her name again?”

“Marly!” the others shout, and then they fall apart laughing. Watching them be such a close-knit, comfortable group makes me miss the hell out of Shannon, Kiki, and Gia. But none of us are home for the summer. Shannon’s in Paris, Gia’s at cheer camp, and Kiki’s in Japan with her grandparents. We’re all living separate lives while everyone here is coming together.

I take a picture of the fire sparking into the sky, bottles dotting the sand around it, and text it to the three of them with a Wish you were here.

“So, Larissa, what’s your story? Are you single?” Derek asks.

“Extremely,” I say with a sigh that makes them all crack up.

“Well, that won’t do,” says Jack. “What’s your pleasure? Boys? Girls? Both?” Keisha nails him in the side with an elbow, and he simultaneously coughs and laughs. “Sorry, neither is of course also an option. In this house, we respect aromantics and asexuals.”

“Thank you,” she says regally, resuming burying her legs.

“I’m not either of those,” I say, quickly adding, “though we respect them in this house too. I’m a ‘boys’ person. Well, boy, in the singular; I don’t think I’m cut out for more than one at a time.” In fact, there’s only been one boy for a loooong time. “But I’m not—I mean, there’s kind of this guy.”

Jack immediately drops his chin into his hands. “Do tell.”

I can’t help laughing. My friends at Stratford are so sick of my mooning over Chase, so I try not to do it too much, especially because it makes me feel pathetic. But here, I can spin it however I want, though I suspect these people would still think I’m fine if I reveal I’ve been crushing on a guy for years to no avail.

Pays to go somewhere for the summer where friends are slim pickings, I guess.