To my left, Harriet bellows the chant loud and clear while looking at me—I guess this is her way of teaching me the lyrics. To my right, Rose is silent. When she catches me looking at her, she lifts the small green-and-gold flag Alfie passed her when we sat down and gives it a half-hearted wave, doing her best to look as unenthusiastic as humanly possible. I can’t help giggling, and she breaks at that, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

It’s the first time I can think of that she’s looked at me like we’re on the same level. She’s not teasing me, or patronizing me, or challenging me. It does something to her face: changes her type of pretty from intimidating to approachable in an instant. I’d actually go as far as to call this particular smile kind of adorable. Enough that it makes my stomach flip in a way that catches me off guard.

“Are you not entertained?” she asks me as we sit back down.

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” I whisper back.

“Well, don’t fall. Again.”

Okay, so we’re back to teasing. But still. I got a human moment out of Rose. It’s a win and I’m gonna take it as one.

After half an hour, I’m actually kind of wishing we were in class. Harriet’s given up on explaining the game to me, and it’s too noisy to hold a regular conversation. Molly’s still commentating to her phone, and Alfie’s fixated on the game, and Eleanor is talking to some guy who doesn’t seem to be her crush. As for Rose, she looks downright crabby. She’s practically glowering down at the field, her jaw clenched and her fist tight around the flag she’s holding. What’s got her in such a shitty mood? Is she as bored as I am, or is it deeper than that?

I don’t mean to stare, but I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing, which makes it a little humiliating when Rose’s head snaps up out of nowhere and she finds me zeroed in on her. It’s too late for me to pretend to look somewhere else, so she locks eyes with me.

“Danni,” she whispers in a weird voice, quietly enough only I can hear her. God, she’s going to call me out for staring at her, isn’t she? Can I come up with a good excuse in time? What if I say there was a bug in her hair, or that I was just about to ask her a question, or—

“Do you want to go for a walk with me?” she asks.

Oh.