How much later? When?

It didn’t matter, she told herself. It wasn’t like she had a Sawyer calendar. She wasn’t crossing off the days until she would see him again. She would see him “later.”

Whenever that was.

That evening, several hours into the town sleepover, Eve’s phone dinged. It was a text from Sawyer. Hey, is my sister there?

Eve: Yep.

Sawyer: Is she alone?

Eve: I’m not sure what you mean by “alone.” She’s with like 30% of the town.

Sawyer: Is she…getting cuddly with anyone? She isn’t answering my texts.

She lifted her head to survey the space. Clara was in the far corner of the dining room. She was watching a movie with a girl Eve didn’t recognize. Ha! Was this Miss It’s Not Theoretical Anymore? Clara was resting her head on the girl’s shoulder. It could have been platonic, but if you were in the know…Eve’s face felt like it was going to crack from smiling too hard.

Eve: She’s watching a movie with a friend. They each have one earbud in, and they’re huddled together over a phone. Probably the friend’s, so my guess is she just didn’t hear hers.

Sawyer: Is this friend male or female?

Did he suspect something? As far as she knew, Clara had still not told him, but Sawyer was pretty perceptive. Maybe he had figured it out.

Eve: I have reached the limit of my comfort with spying on your sister.

Sawyer: Thanks for nothing.

He had added an emoji, though, the one with the tongue sticking out. She stuck her phone into her back pocket and surveyed her domain. Maya, who was playing cards with Jenna and sipping her sourced-specially-for-her-by-Law wine, was waving in an attempt to get her attention.

“I am sorry to have to tell you this,” she said when Eve arrived at her side. “But Art and Jamila went upstairs a few minutes ago.”

“Really?” Eve had strung rope across the base of the stairwell. There was major work going on up there, and she’d agreed to the sleepover only on the condition that it happen on the first floor only.

But had she really expected a rope to keep those two out? “Ugh. Thanks.” She walked toward the stairs but paused, uncertain. The idea of bursting in on them was supremely unappealing. But so was the prospect of getting sued because a wire came loose and they got electrified in flagrante delicto.

Well, she knew someone she could ask.

She got out her phone. I think Art and Jamila are getting it on upstairs. The demolition guys are in the middle of taking walls down, and they said not to have people up there. What should I do? It turned out to be kind of handy to be not not-friends with the chief of police.

The reply came right away. I’ll come over.