The picture of the crown with a big number 14 on it is still there, but no one else is; they’re all crowded in the living room, being serenaded by what I immediately recognize as Gia on karaoke. Taylor Swift is her go-to. In addition to being a huge fangirl, she has no problem hitting the notes, but her performance always falls a little flat because she doesn’t have the romantic angst; very few of those lyrics work when you’re smiling happily at your boyfriend through them. Currently, she’s warbling her way through “Blank Space,” singing it at a starry-eyed Tommy as if it’s a wedding-worthy romance rather than an epic burn of a song.

Chase’s teammates spot us immediately and come over to give him shit, but he tells them to mind their business and find their own girls so they can stop worrying what he’s up to with his. Then he raises a fist and cheers loudly for Gia, and I squeeze him around the waist as I watch her cheeks light up with pleasure.

He really is a good guy. Hot as hell, and I feel safe with him. I genuinely like him, a lot.

That’s what matters, right? Not that I didn’t want to go further tonight?

God, I wish I could talk to Shannon. I know she’s here, but I doubt her brain’s been here here since five minutes after she walked through the door. She’s just so good at being blunt with her advice, and that’s exactly what I need—not Gia’s effusive and all-consuming belief that love is always the answer, or Kiki’s comfort in the form of dismissing all high school romance as temporary bullshit. I need some real talk, Shannon Salter style, even if it means sitting through a lecture on breaking one of her rules, complete with an I told you so, even though this isn’t what she told me at all.

And suddenly, there she is, on the “stage,” taking the mic from Gia as “Blank Space” fades out and everyone applauds. I’m stunned to see Shannon standing next to the machine. She never participates in karaoke, or anything else that might make her look silly. Even Kiki participates in karaoke more than Shannon, as long as you let her sing angry 90s girl rock. But maybe Shannon’s been practicing or something. I know better than anyone how much time she puts into making everything she does look effortless. And she certainly looks the part of a pop star in her sequined miniskirt, a purchase I don’t recognize.

A purchase that means she’s been shopping without me.