I make eye contact with my best friend through the vanity mirror and smile. “You don’t know him,” I answer, because technically she doesn’t.

“So it’s a mystery man,” she pushes.

She’s got the man part right.

Somehow I went from playing a game of cat and mouse with Dempsey Haas to wanting to prove to him just how cooperative and compliant I can be. I like it when he calls me baby girl and princess. I fucking loved it when he called me his naughty girl last night.

I can’t hide my smile as I think about having him all to myself. We haven’t been in a position where we could just be. There won’t be any sneaking around or holding back tonight. No stolen kisses, late night rendezvous, or lustful stares. I get him to myself. And I’m more than ready to have all of him.

“You are grinning like a fool!” Paige throws a pillow at my head, but I see it coming and shoot out an arm to catch it. Thanks, LAX skills.

“Maybe a little,” I admit, turning back to the vanity and selecting my favorite strawberry fizz lip gloss.

“Does your mystery man know about your heroic efforts last weekend?” she teases.

I roll my eyes at the reminder. The onslaught of new photos and videos from Adley’s party has slowed—I’m pretty sure I’ve seen everything that’s been uploaded at this point. That hasn’t stopped the flurry of texts, emails, and DMs from people making sure I’ve seen each one, though.

Idiots. Of course I’ve seen them. I was tagged in all the posts. I fucking lived the whole experience. The only saving grace is that neither Fielding nor Dempsey has social media, so no one’s been able to connect them to the incident.

Paige knows a version of what happened last weekend. But we haven’t talked about it much. I’ve brought Kyle up often to divert her attention. I’d prefer to drop the whole thing: the more we talk about it, the more I have to skirt around the truth.

“Probably,” I hedge. “I’m going out with someone from school. He goes to Cal, too, but he lives about thirty minutes from here.”

I feel bad about the blatant lie. But I really don’t want her snooping around.

“It’s someone from around here? That’s awesome!”

Shit. Of course she’s excited that I’m going out with someone local. I scramble for a response to curb her enthusiasm.

“He wants to stay out in California for grad school, too,” I lie. Again.

Her smile drops, and she sighs as I turn back to spray my hair and add another layer of lip gloss. I’d rather manage her expectations now than give her false hope that I will ever be a permanent resident of Hampton, Ohio again.