“Oh my god, I love you!”

I don’t know what’s lovable about my not having an Instagram, but she is busy clicking away on her phone, so I don’t need to react.

“She’s amazing,” Thomas says, and I glare at him.

“Done!” Stella says, putting her phone down.

“So, I was looking at your chart with Thomas,” I say.

“Please read me to filth,” she says, then giggles, a breathy, lizard laugh. “I can handle it.”

“Okay, tell me what you know about your chart, and we’ll go from there,” I say.

“I’m a Libra,” she says. “That’s all I know. Indecisive. Flirty.” She touches my forearm. “A little scattered.” She giggles again. “It takes me twenty minutes to tell a simple story. That’s why I loved your meme so much.”

“Right,” I say. “Libra is ruled by Venus, the planet of beauty, so you’re drawn to fine things.”

“Yep,” she says, and spreads her arms to reference our fine surroundings.

“You are also blessed with a beautiful appearance.”

Thomas nods vigorously, and I glare at him.

“I’ve had some help with that,” she says.

I go on to explain to Stella the various aspects of her birth chart. The sun, the rising. Mercury and Venus. The houses, the conjuncts. Thomas occasionally adds something obvious and Stella ignores him. She asks a few questions, mostly pertaining to love. She keeps touching my arm. The yard turns golden and then a cool blue. At the end of the reading, Stella takes a selfie of us, pointedly excluding Thomas. Then she Venmos me $1,000 and walks us out. By the cars, she hugs and kisses me again and doesn’t touch Thomas. Then we are out the gate, back on the road, driving along the ocean, and then back on the 10, surrounded by dust and concrete.

“Was it just me or was Stella Shadid flirting with you?” Thomas asks as we pass the Capitol Records building.

“Just you,” I say.

“It was weird,” he says. “She hardly acknowledged me.”

“You aren’t Exalted,” I say.

“The whole thing was so weird.”

“You just aren’t used to being ignored by pretty women.”

“You ignore me all the time,” he says.

I ignore Thomas and look at my phone. More texts from Bo and my dad—my oppressive male relatives. Rachel was always screaming about the patriarchy, especially after the third margarita, and now I wish I could go back in time and yell along with her.