At first Lulu thought of Jordan coming out and seeing them and thinking, how childish, that they couldn’t get along at the party, that they’d snuck off to splash around like babies.

Then, though, another thought occurred to her: one of the boys coming and seeing two girls in their underwear, wet and laughing. What that would look like to him.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

That was the night she started paying attention to Bea. Bea hadn’t snared Seb just because she was pretty; Bea would never say so out loud, but she was playing the game just as carefully and strategically as Lulu herself. It was comforting to see that: to know that someone who seemed so natural, so sophisticated and easy, was trying just as hard as Lulu was to stay afloat.

Lulu finds Bea caught up in a thicket of girls dancing in the grass. Her hair is sweat-matted, and her face is flushed pink. She tries to pull Lulu into the dancing with her, but Lulu pulls her back. “Wait,” she says. “I want you to meet Cass.”

Bea stops moving. She cocks her head and takes Cass in. “Cass,” she repeats. “Shit! Nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Cass says.

“I sort of bailed on B when we went to the beach the other day,” Lulu explains, trying to make the intensity of Bea’s interest seem less weird to Cass. “She got curious.”

“Everyone’s curious about Cass,” Bea says. “I mentioned to Isabel that she was coming, and she like, she didn’t seem like she believed me. She said you and your—Ryan, that you guys never come to parties. So, what, you guys are, like, too cool?”

“God, not at all,” Cass says. “We just don’t really love it, so we don’t do it. And then people treat it like it’s a crime, not liking what they like.”

“Well,” Bea says. “I hope this party isn’t too painful, then.”

Lulu watches the two of them misunderstand each other like a car crash in slow-motion. Bea is trying to be arch, and Cass is trying to be honest, and they’re missing each other’s points entirely. Lulu wishes she were allowed to set the terms of the conversation, to explain to them, no, you’ll like each other if you do it like this.

“Um,” Cass says. “I— It seems nice. Should we, like, get drinks or something?”

“Sure,” Bea says.

So Cass has learned this survival technique, at least: Drink till it stops being awkward. Which tonight may be never.

When they get to the porch, Ryan, Oliver, and Jason are at the table, refilling their cups. Oliver offers the bottle he’s been pouring from to Lulu. “Want some?”

“I’m good,” Lulu says.

“Shapiro turns down a drink,” Jason crows. “When was the last time that happened?”

Lulu gives him dagger eyes.