“Wait to hear from me,” Lucy said reluctantly. “I’m not sure if I was supposed to say anything yet. Ryan mentioned Thai, so we’re probably going to one of the places in town. If it seems okay, I’ll send a Lyft for you.”

Maddie rolled her eyes.

Delia didn’t bother to hide her disappointment either. “Okay, yeah, text us.”

Lucy held Delia’s gaze. “I will. Promise.”

These were her teammates. They’d stuck together this far. And now, they’d get everything they wanted. Lucy was sure of it.

*   *   *

Nerves eased, and excitement built as Lucy waited for Ryan outside the student center. The ValleyStart message board was buzzing about Lit’s beta test—and about Lucy, about Lucy skyrocketing to Crushing It.

Crushing. It.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Got a Pulse?

Yeah, she did.

Her newfound status gave their test a boost, for sure.

The power of Pulse.

The power . . .

Lucy sucked in her lip.

Aw, what the hell.

She grabbed her phone, opened the Stanford portal, and sent a message. She would have an additional letter of recommendation from Ryan Thompson, founder of Pulse, the following day. She hesitated, then added that as a Level 10 she would be sure to represent Stanford well at all her Pulse events to come.

Any and every advantage, right?

Ryan soon appeared from inside the student center. He was wearing jeans, a white linen shirt, and a khaki blazer. Lucy was glad she’d dressed up—let him know she was taking this as seriously as he was.

“Now, don’t you look like someone who’s Crushing It?” he said.

“You saw?”

“I saw.” He led her to his red Tesla convertible and opened the door for her. “Might want to put that jacket on, Lucy; it can get chilly with the top down.”

“Oh, that’s okay. It’s a short ride to town.”

“Yes, it is, but we’re not going to town. I hope you cleared your calendar for the evening, because I do believe all ten of your hearts have been left in San Francisco.”

*   *   *

“Thank you,” Lucy said as the hostess switched out the white cloth napkin for a black one so as not to leave lint on her dress. She then turned to Ryan. “This is amazing. My only complaint about the Valley is that it’s not right on the ocean.”

Lucy had been in San Francisco a hundred times but never like this. With a waterfront table—the only waterfront table, as Ryan had bought out the entire outside patio—framing the Ferry Building’s iconic tower and beautiful white clock in the foreground and the artfully lit Bay Bridge in the background. Patio heaters surrounded them, nestling them in a cocoon of warmth.

The tasting menu and wines had been preselected by Ryan.

No one carded her.

“A toast.” Ryan held up his glass of champagne. “To my newest Pulse-tern.”