“Hey, me too!” I cheer, and we slap five over the table while they laugh. My mom and I aren’t remotely affiliated—the one thing we do all year is light menorahs and eat latkes on the first night of Hanukkah, which we only do because it makes my mom feel better about raising me on Christmas—but it feels like the first thing we’ve had in common.

Except for how we both suck at Spades.

But it’s fun, and Jasmine seems so much more at ease in the smaller crowd. It takes the sting out of losing so badly to see her chilled out, more like the person I hang out with on photo shoots and long car drives. By the time we officially bite the dust, my face hurts from laughing so hard. At least until Carter asks us to stick around, his eyes hovering somewhere around Jasmine’s lips, and my stomach drops at the thought of ending our fun night by being ditched.

“Nah. We’ve gotta get up early for a sunrise shoot,” says Jasmine, rising on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. The shoot is news to me, but I nod and accept good-night hugs and promises of a rematch. Keisha and I even exchange numbers, and I appreciate that her phone case is designed to look like a vintage Nintendo controller.

“Are we really doing a sunrise shoot tomorrow?” I ask after we buckle ourselves in and leave the Thomases behind us.

“Sure, why not?” Jasmine shrugs. “People love cheesy sunrises for social media backgrounds and templates. Unless you don’t think you can get up that early.”

I’ve been getting up early to run on the beach the past couple days, before Jasmine or Mom or even Declan is awake. It’s been nice having time to myself where I’m not in Declan’s house, or assisting Jasmine, or tiptoeing around my mom. I’ve never been a morning person, but running on the sand is more relaxing than walking on eggshells and feeling like an interloping piece of luggage my mom was forced to bring.

I don’t wanna give up my secret, though. “Oh, I can. The question is whether you want company that early. You don’t seem to enjoy the presence of others before coffee.”

Her teeth flash in the dark interior of the car. “You’ve noticed.”

“I’m very observant,” I say with a flip of my hair.

“You are.” Her voice is more serious than I anticipate, and I’m not ready for it. “I like this about you. You know when to talk and when not to. It’s a rare skill.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” It strikes me then that it’s the first time we’ve driven without music. “Especially since you can be a hard girl to read.”