I could’ve sworn I heard the sound of a latch clicking open. I looked at Cricket’s door, expecting a new guest to stride in. But, no, the click was just inside my head: Charleston, their companionship, his nickname for her, his obvious distaste for Blake—I had thought it had been simple fondness. Wrong. “That tracks,” I said softly, still processing.

“You truly didn’t know?” L.K. asked. We both glanced at Bo, who, I realized now, had never been far from Wallis’s side at this party. He was dressed rather chic tonight, or at least more put-together than usual, in those sustainable wool sneakers with colorful laces, a tailored pair of jeans, a shirt that wasn’t one size too big. And he was currently beholding her as one totally smitten; I guessed that if I watched for long enough, I might catch his heart thump right out of his chest and land at her feet.

I was, for the next handful of seconds, positively afloat with possibility. My sister! My friend! And Bo was such a catch. But then: “I don’t think she likes him that way.”

I’d expected this admission to spear the heart-shaped balloons floating around L.K.’s head. But she was unmoved. “No offense, Daisy, but I don’t trust you when it comes to this.” Then, giddy, she practically squealed, “They’re coming over here!”

“Just try not to make it weird,” I begged, still spinning.

“I make no promises. Hi, Wallis!” They embraced, kissed on the cheek. “Amazing party. You look stunning. Right, Bo?”

“Yes,” said Bo, “to both.”

Wallis took both compliments gracefully, smiling warmly, and giving me a good squeeze. “Anything for my famous and brilliant Daisy.”

“I’m famous now, am I?” I asked, laughing at the idea.

But L.K. agreed with Wallis. “Your story is resonating with people. I know it did with me. Word is you’re going to make it onto The List next month.”

We all pretended to faint or swoon or fan ourselves exaggeratedly. The List was the silliest thing in DC everyone took seriously, and measured nothing except how germane one was to the current conversation.

There was a knock on the door, and a familiar face poked through the crack. Miles’s press sec had arrived, and Wallis scampered off to welcome him.

“Thanks for coming,” I said to Bo and L.K. for probably the fifth time that night. “This is outrageous.”

Bo was curious. “That someone should throw you a party? You’re an easy person to celebrate, my friend.”

I smiled. “It’s just unexpected, I guess.”

“Then Wallis succeeded,” he said. “She was sure you were onto her.”