I set my phone on the kitchen island since this skirt, while cute, doesn’t have any pockets, and I round the corner of the island to where Cressida is whipping up her customary baked goods.

“What are you making?” I ask, trying to ignore the squeals coming from the opposite side of the kitchen.

“Cupcakes,” Cressida replies. “And I’ll be hiding them.”

I roll my eyes. “Can I help?”

Both her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Sure.” She hands me a bowl. “Stir this.”

My hands whip frosting without any input from my brain, my thoughts spinning as quickly as the sugar and butter. Emma’s taken a seat on one of the stools, basically shoving the magazine in my face and forcing me to acknowledge Beck’s not alone on the cover. There’s a stunning brunette posed against his back. I recognize her. From Beck’s doorway as I left it. Maybe it would be easier to look at the cover if I couldn’t picture her leaning against his doorframe with a sultry smile. If I didn’t know their acquaintance extends beyond modeling together.

Cressida brings a tray of cooled cupcakes over to me, and we ice them with the freshly whipped frosting. We’re halfway through when a phone rings. Emma leans over to one I realize is mine.

“Oh my God, is this Alexis from Scholenberg?” she asks excitedly, grabbing my phone and hitting the green button.

My stomach travels to my toes for the second time tonight.

“Saylor! You answered.” Alexis’s crisp British accent fills the kitchen. The completely, totally silent kitchen. Because Emma has not only answered my phone, but she’s also put it on speakerphone. “I just saw the interview you did. Does that mean you talked to Beck…”

I grab my phone off the counter and turn off the speaker.

“Hi, Alexis,” I interrupt breathlessly.

“Saylor? Did you hear me about the video?”

“Yeah, I heard you. I didn’t—didn’t think he would see it. Anyone would see it. It was a mistake.”

“I know you always said it was just about… sex with him, but—”

I eye the magazine set on the counter and interrupt her again. “I said that because that is all it was.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Okay.”

“How have you been?” I ask, eager to shift topics.

I chat with her for a few more minutes and then hang up. More Lancaster students arrived while I was on the phone, and the kitchen is now considerably more crowded. Emma and Cressida don’t care. They both push their way toward me as soon as I hang up the phone.

“What the fuck was that about?” Emma asks.

“Why did she think you’d talk to Adler Beck?” Cressida adds.