We hear them before we see them. Even above the din of voices and music and clinking silverware, Harlow’s distinct laughter carries all the way to the door. Harlow is never quiet.

“That is the best thing I’ve ever heard,” Ansel yells, dissolving into a fit of giggles. You wouldn’t think a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer would giggle, but this is Ansel and, well, you’d be wrong. Insecurity hums along the edges of my nerves as their voices get closer, and I feel my mouth pinch down into a frown.

“Sounds like they started without us!” Oliver shouts over his shoulder, and I can only nod, following him across the room and toward the table while trying to look like I’m not about to throw up.

They’re all seated at a large booth near the back. Ansel is on one end, his long arms splayed across the back of the seat, and he leans forward, grinning while he listens across the table. Mia is next to him, Lola sits on Mia’s right and—not for the first time since I met her—is lost in something she’s doodling on a napkin. Harlow is on the edge, eyes wide and expressive as she relays some story to Ansel, who laughs. Again.

“Having a good time?” Oliver asks, stopping at the other side of the table. “Could hear you lot clear outside.” Everyone’s eyes snap up to him—and then me—before they call out in greeting.

Everyone except Harlow.

Her gaze locks on mine for the longest five seconds of my life before she blinks away, addressing Oliver. “Finally,” she says, smile a little too bright. Nervous, maybe? Guilty?

“Did you—” she starts to say, but I interrupt.

“What was so funny?” I snap, and immediately want to smack myself.

Everyone turns to me, each of them with varying expressions of What the fuck?

Lola looks up, and I register that while she might not look like she’s paying attention, she hears every single word. “Harlow was just telling the story of the time we locked ourselves out while skinny-dipping and we decided she was the one who had to climb through the upstairs window. Naked.”

“Oh,” I say, too horrified by my own reaction to linger over the mental image of Harlow, naked, scaling a wall, a window... anything.

Harlow watches me through narrowed eyes, and Ansel is looking at me like I’ve just shown up with my underwear on the outside of my pants.

“Right,” Oliver says. “Gonna find the toilet, order me a burger if they come around, would ya?”

With Oliver gone my only options are to stand here like an idiot, or take the seat next to Harlow.

With a sigh, I steel myself and slide into the booth, careful to keep at least a few inches between us. Lola and Mia start talking about... something, and Harlow leans in.