I can’t see Shannon, but I can hear her across the room, laughing and flirting and, from the sound of it, getting deep into Ferris’s extensive liquor stash. I wonder if she’s with Gia and Tommy, or with Lucas, or with someone else entirely. I’m just glad she’s here. It means she’s not sulking over not being the star of the night, like she did last year when Tommy’s promposal to Gia way overshadowed hers, or when dating-my-lab-partner-Jamie Taylor dyed their hair to match the nonbinary flag the same day Shannon got her first lowlights.

“Well, if it isn’t the king and queen of the evening!” Linus Doyle swoops forward with an exaggerated bow, Hunter Ferris himself at his heels.

“We have reservedeth a room for the royal couple,” Ferris says in a regal voice, “but do not breaketh any shit, for it is my parents’ room. Eth.”

“Dude, why would you let us use your parents’ room?” Chase asks, and I like him even more for it.

Ferris shrugs. “They’re out of town for the week, and the maid’s coming tomorrow anyway,” he answers in his regular voice. “Just don’t be gross and don’t try on any of my dad’s cravats.”

“Why would—”

“I know, you wouldn’t think people would have to be told that,” Ferris says, cutting me off and glaring at Linus, “and yet.”

Chase twines his fingers in mine and gives my hand a little tug. “You wanna?”

I think back to watching him dominate the field, to the smiles and winks he threw my way, the proud thanks at the end. I think of all the times I’ve admired his body in uniform or at pool parties or just walking down the hall wearing jeans way too well. I think of how the last time I took off my clothes with someone, it was my last night in the Outer Banks, a single night that felt much too honest at the time yet has been anything but since the first day of school.

And I say, “Yeah, I wanna.”

Ferris wasn’t kidding when he said they saved us a room; there’s a sign with a crown bearing a number 14 on the door and a little bowl next to the bed with more condoms than anyone could possibly use over the length of a party. My stomach flips at the sight. I’ve done my share of fooling around, but none of it has actually necessitated one of those colorful little packets.

Not that I’m opposed, and especially not with Chase; he’s been the guy I’ve imagined my first time with for years. Though maybe not in some guy’s parents’ bed at a house party, before we’ve gone on a second real date.