“Why did you move for senior year again?” Kiki asks, and I can practically see antennae rise out of her messy bun.

“Custody stuff,” Jasmine says as if it’s nothing, like being shuffled between parents at a whim doesn’t bother her, but it’s bullshit. There’s no way she isn’t missing her mom’s lavish Shabbat dinners. There’s no way she feels at home in a bedroom with no pictures on the walls.

But everyone else accepts it with a nod—a slightly disappointed one, in Kiki’s case—and she bites into a chicken finger while motioning “Can’t possibly speak on this further as my mouth is currently full.”

“Well, you have perfect timing for joining us,” says Shannon, “because our little Larissa is going on a big date tonight, and I wanna hear all about it.” Her lips twitch into the tiniest of smirks. “I’m allowed to reveal that now, right?”

Fucker. She did know I was pissed all week.

I don’t need Jasmine knowing how bothered I am by their random-ass friendship, nor am I letting Shannon win this one. “Duh. About fifty people already asked me about it today, so.” Insert modest shrug, as if I don’t know that the idea of me and Chase being the center of Stratford conversation drives her nuts. “I’m glad we decided to just see a movie instead of going out in public. Who needs all those eyes on us?”

“A movie,” Jasmine says sweetly. “That sounds … romantic.”

Is she trying to make me feel the weight of her hand on my thigh, the way it pressed my skin into the scratchy velvet of the movie theater seat? Because it’s definitely not working.

“Ooh, especially at the multiplex,” says Gia. “They have those reclining seats that are so big, they can fit two people. It’s very romantic,” she adds in a tone that makes me want to bring bleach to the theater.

“So, start from the beginning,” says Jasmine, smiling like this is normal girl talk and she’s enjoying it and aren’t we all enjoying it? “How did he ask? What are you wearing?”

“You still have my really cute halter,” Shannon points out, as if my favorite blue tank top isn’t buried somewhere in the depths of her walk-in closet. “It’s so cute with jeans.”

“Jeans are so boring!” Gia protests. “Jasmine, tell her she has to wear a dress.”

“I have some cute dresses you can borrow.” Jasmine’s voice is light and playful and a flush starts creeping up my skin. I’m familiar with her cute dresses. I’ve borrowed a couple that don’t require her considerably more ample cleavage. And I know exactly which ones give easy access in a movie theater too.

I hate this conversation. I hate that she’s here. I hate that my brain won’t let this summer go.