“See,” Cass says. “I had thought the options for that type of thing were to go, or not go. And then I saw you leaving without leaving, and it was like, I don’t know. Like I hadn’t imagined there could be this third thing.”

“Well, I had never imagined I could really not go,” Lulu says.

“Not going is my specialty.”

Cass leans over to dip her roller back into the paint; somehow, when she straightens, she and Lulu are standing closer than they were a moment ago.

It’s weird to remember that night. Lulu was a different person then, in certain ways. She never would have imagined when she walked into Patrick’s that a few weeks later she’d be so far from anywhere she’s ever been before, wearing someone else’s clothes, looking at a girl in this soft, gold, late afternoon light and feeling almost like she would be allowed to reach out and touch her.

She hasn’t changed enough to do it, though.

Cass takes her roller and applies it to the next patch of wall. Ryan reappears in the doorway. “I Postmates’ed us some snacks, and it should be here in a few if you guys want to take a break,” he says.

“Oh thank god.” Cass puts her roller back down. “I think the fumes are starting to go to my head.”

“I’m just gonna go over this once more so it can dry while we eat,” Lulu says.

“That’s the spirit,” Ryan tells her.

And then Lulu is standing alone in an empty hotel room, surrounded by pink light and paint fumes. Feelings rush over her in waves: happiness and restlessness, and hope, and fear. It’s too much and there’s nothing she can do about it. She closes her eyes and holds her breath. It doesn’t help. Her body is still buzzing, thrumming. When she opens her eyes again, she realizes she was standing alone in the room and smiling.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE NEXT TIME Cass and Lulu come to The Hotel, there’s a new car in the driveway: a little navy BMW 3 series parked neatly between two lines.

“Who’s the company?” Lulu asks Cass.

Cass shrugs. “Ryan didn’t tell me anything. Maybe he had a girl here last night or something. Gross.” She mock-shivers. “I hate dealing with strangers.”

“You brought me here,” Lulu reminds her.

“You seemed like an okay stranger. You’d intrigued me, remember? And anyway, that was different.”

“Different how?”

Instead of answering her question, Cass shoves something into Lulu’s hands. “Don’t you want to open your present?” she asks.

“I always want to open a present.”