The simple fact he’s happy to say things like that to me via text, in writing, brings a smile to my face.

He trusts me. Everything he does proves as much—the credit card, even the fact I’m alone in his house, but the open discussion of punishable offenses takes the cake.

Next, I go to my closet, and sigh.

One thing should have dawned to me earlier: I don’t have anything to wear. Not to dinner with Keller, who looks positively edible. I mean, I knew that. I don’t particularly like most of my formal wardrobe. My entire collection of clothing is knee-length dresses and skirts, and formal tops. My favorite piece of clothing is the skirt I sort of stole from my ex-roommate.

I know what Keller would say: I need new clothes and should immediately purchase a ton of them. But it doesn’t sort things out for tonight. We’re leaving in forty-five minutes and I don’t have anything to wear.

The skirt’s too party-ish for a restaurant.

My heart beating fast at the influx of sudden stress, I remind myself to breathe.

It takes me a second to understand why I’m freaking out a little.

I’m used to being worried. About money, about time, about pissing someone off. But I spent an entire blissful week with little to no worries since Monday’s freak-out. Five days without anxiety spikes. This feels worse after a few days without panicking.

Breathe. There’s always a solution. You’re used to finding a way.

I grab my phone again.

Me: Hey, feel free to tell me to fuck off, but Keller looks really nice, and all my clothes cost under fifty bucks. Do you have anything I could borrow?

I would have asked Lily if she were invited tonight. As things stand, I asked Dez. She gets me. We might not have had a heart-to-heart but everything she’s said and done tells me she grew up without all the glitz and glamour and endless flow of cash.

Dez: Dude, really? You look about a billion bucks, all the time.

I smile.

Me: My grandma chose my clothes.

It takes her a while to answer, and she types for minutes on end.

Dez: Someone else used to pick my clothes too. Come raid my closet. Take anything.

I run outside, fast.

Everything changes on weekends in the Vesper House itself, but the entire street is taken by the same fever. There are a lot more people for one, filtering in and out of the house. Staff, bringing entire cases of booze, so much you’d think we’re the ones throwing the party tonight. I know our turn is tomorrow.

Next door is madness. Staff everywhere, vans unloading portable tables, catering preparing food for an army, and more.

Unlike our tower, the wyverns have a grand staircase. Dez waits for me in the entryway on the ground floor.