“Debate practice, actually,” Reg said. “Poe is helping me prep for next week’s tournament.”

Poe popped up from the floor, bouncing a little on his feet. “It turns out, I’m very argumentative.”

“I could have told you that,” Sydney said.

“Maybe I’ll go out for debate team next year too,” Poe said.

A small shadow flickered across Reg’s face—too subtle for anyone else to notice and too quick for me to interpret. As much as he protested being tied down, I could only assume he was reluctant to say goodbye to Poe—to all of them—or at least felt guilty about pretending we would still be here next year.

I was feeling a little guilty about that myself, if I was being honest, and something more too—like a hollow spot was being carved out inside my chest, right where my human heart did all its thumping. I touched my hand to the spot for just an instant, then made an effort to shake it off.

“Well, I’m prepping for a date.” I waved a hand from head to toe. “And all of this takes time. So get out of here already!”

We closed the door on the boys, and I turned to the full-length mirror on the back of the door, inspecting my little black dress from every angle.

“You look awesome,” Sydney said.

Less than two months ago, I would have answered “I know” without a second thought, but now I only smiled.

My brief time as a human had taught me that mortals drew a thin line between confidence and arrogance, and teenage girls had an unfortunate habit of declining compliments and pointing out their flaws instead. Maybe I could break Syd and Soph of that pattern before my mortal adventure was over.

Insecurity might be the worst part of being human. Fortunately, I was mostly unafflicted.

There was a knock at the cottage door.

Dexter.

I tossed my hair, posing for Sydney and Sophia.

“Fabulous?” I asked.

“Fabulous,” they agreed.

Dexter picked me up in a car—or something resembling a car.

“Is this beast yours?” I asked, giving the side-eye to the battered Jeep parked just beyond the picket fence.

Dexter held open the gate for me to pass through, and as I did, I got a whiff of a clean-smelling cologne that made me want to bury my face in his shirt. Maybe later, he would let me.

“It’s on loan,” he said.

I pointed to my stilettos. “And how am I supposed to get in it?”

“With a little help from your date.” He grinned, enjoying my discomfort, and I wondered if he deliberately brought this off-road ride because he knew I’d be in heels. I started to argue, but then his big hands were around my waist, lifting me into the passenger seat.

“Oh,” I said, a warmth creeping into my cheeks. “Okay, then.”