He tilts his beer to his lips, giving me a warning look.

“Nothing?” I hiss-whisper. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“No.”

I wish a dramatic-huff-and-stomp-away would work on Finn, but I know it wouldn’t. And I still like the way he’s staring at me. Although... now he’s not inspecting my shirt, he’s staring at my hairline.

“What?” I ask.

“Your hair looks... really red tonight.”

“I put some temporary color powder in it,” I admit, turning into the light so he can see better. “Do you like it?”

“I think you got some on your forehead.”

I deflate, dunking my thumb in my glass of water and wiping at the spot he’s pointing to. “Holy Moses, Finn Roberts, how you managed to date this Melody person for more than a week is beyond me.” I ignore his raised eyebrows at this, and continue: “You’re supposed to tell me I look pretty, and act like you’re touching my beautiful face when really you’re subtly wiping away my makeup mistakes.”

“I’m not supposed to do anything.” He gives me a dark grin. Leaning back against the side of our booth, he says, “I’m just a friend who likes to point out when you’re ridiculous. Makeup for your hair, Harlow? Really?”

“Sometimes a girl feels like she needs a little extra something, okay?”

His expression straightens, and he blinks away, looking out over the small dance floor. “Not you. You look best first thing in the morning.” I suck in a breath. I know exactly what morning he means; it’s the only one we woke up to, together. In my bed, curled around each other. I can still feel how warm he was.

“Well, then I’m surprised you didn’t make a comment about pillow creases on my face and morning breath.”

“You did have pillow creases on your face, and your hair was a mess.” His voice drops lower when he says, “But you looked perfect.”

I’m too stunned to speak, continually swallowing around the lump in my throat. My heart feels like it’s grown ten times its normal size.

He coughs and I know I’ve been quiet too long when he changes the subject. “Who told you about Melody?”

I sip my water, finally managing, “Oliver, but it was completely against his will. I brandished a musket.”

Finn nods, taking another drink of his beer. Kyle turns the music up but even still, it feels like we’re in our own little bubble, standing a few feet away from where our friends sit together in the booth.

“I only know her name and that she was quiet,” I admit. “Will you tell me about her?”

“Why do you want to know this?”

“Probably for the same reason you asked if Toby Amsler went down on me.”

He blinks over to me. “What do you want to know?”

“Does she still live near you?”