Lucy pressed on, and she and Delia reached the entrance first. The “Sponsored by Pulse” on the welcome sign sent chills down her spine. She squeezed Delia’s hand. “Let’s all cross the threshold together.”

Like newlyweds, beginning their marriage, which is what this would be for the next five weeks. It all started with this. The team whose app had the most functionality at the end of the twelve-hour hackathon would receive an advantage: a one-on-one session with last year’s incubator winners.

They needed it. Lucy needed it. Because Lucy needed Stanford. And this internship was her ticket off the wait list and onto the perfect blades of grass that not even her mother’s heels had sunk into.

As she waited for Maddie, Lucy craned her neck to peer through the glass door. Her pulse quickened. There he was. Broad shoulders that narrowed in a perfect V down to a trim waist and a butt as round as a peach and as tight as her mom’s Spanx.

Ryan Thompson.

She’d recognize his behind—she’d recognize him from behind—even in a sea of Silicon Valley elite.

“Let’s go! Early bird, and all!” Lucy tried to channel that bird and sound chipper, but she was growing impatient waiting for Maddie. Finally, they were all together, and a surge of energy propelled Lucy through the door. “I want to volunteer to present first, just in case Ryan doesn’t stay for the whole thing.”

“Ryan?” Maddie said in the harsh Boston accent that made Lucy cringe from her professionally plucked eyebrows to her Bikini So Teeny polished toes. “One five-minute convo and you’re on a first-name basis?”

“Shh!” Lucy halted. She swore she saw Ryan’s shoulders tense. When she was positive there wasn’t a break in his swaggered stride through the lobby, she waved the girls forward. “This way.”

Signs pointed them in the right direction, but Lucy had memorized the student center layout a week ago. Still holding Delia’s limp hand, she moved through the stucco building, keeping her eyes on Ryan’s muscular back. When she turned the corner, she increased her speed, fueled by the appearance of Gavin Cox.

Freaking Gavin Cox.

She’d successfully avoided him yesterday and was aiming to make that a two-day streak.

The drag on her forearm and the squeal from beside her caused her to fail.

Delia tripped. Indoors. On a flat surface.

This must be how Jobs felt around Woz.

Lucy shoved her butterfly-frame sunglasses tight against her face, but it was too late. She’d been seen. Which meant she’d failed. She hated failing. She never did. One of the few things she could credit to her mom, who’d taught her the only way to avoid it was by being in total control. But this incubator was a team program.