For the first time, I think I glimpse the self-doubt underneath the lacquer of his brash confidence, the active effort it requires to smile all the time, to keep everything light and make everyone laugh. “We’ll see. But hey,” he says, holding up three fingers like he’s making an oath, “I promise I won’t fall for you. You’re, like, a bro. Like, a very pretty bro, who I’m into platonically, and whose house I might crash at in the future, once you’re married and I’m named the most eligible bachelor of the century.”

“I would love that,” I tell him earnestly, bumping his shoulder with mine. “I don’t have any other guy friends. You’ll be the only one.”

“Damn, I feel special, then. But, like, really? You have no other guy friends?”

“None,” I admit. Before, when I wasn’t pretty, it was like I didn’t even exist to guys, unless it was as the punch line of all their cruel jokes. And then once I turned pretty, I was only a girl to them, apparently too dumb and too different to join in on their important conversations. They would discuss my body openly like it was a debate topic and feign interest just to withdraw it the second it became clear I wasn’t willing to sleep with them, and even when we did hang out, their eyes never stayed on my face. The nicer ones got girlfriends, and their girlfriends warned them to keep their distance from me, until our every exchange felt monitored, morally wrong somehow, and it just wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. Cyrus wasn’t like the rest of them, but he was never a friend to begin with.

As if reading my mind, Oliver asks, “What about Cyrus? Or— Oh.” His brows rise. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t have any problems with him liking you in a let’s-make-out way.”

“Okay, still not warming up to that phrase. But it’s … complicated between us,” I say, which feels like a severe understatement. “We have a long history. I just didn’t want to accidentally lead you on.”

“Wow,” he says, blowing out a breath.

“Wow, what?”

“I have to admit, you’re kind of different from what I thought.” He peers over at me. “Like, you’re hot, obviously, but you’re also thoughtful and brave and mature and nice even when you don’t need to be, which is, like, actually really rare these days. And I swear I’m not just saying that. Cyrus is a lucky guy.”