Lucy placed one hand on her hip and pressed her heels into the floor, lengthening her torso as much as she could. “Like Waze, our app will rely on crowdsourcing, letting our users give you a heads-up if that party’s a do or a don’t. If the bar’s full of hotties or hot messes. If the bouncer’s particularly ornery. If it’s an under-twenty-one night or a senior citizen early-bird dinner.” Confidence brimmed with each sentence she uttered. Now, as she drew to a close, she paused and looked up. Exposed wood beams crisscrossed the vaulted ceiling. She smirked as the line that would clinch it came to her. Then she turned so she could see Ryan. “Uber, Lyft, they pick you up. We hook you up.”

Ryan grinned as he took the microphone back from her. “And what are you called?”

He tilted the mic toward her, and she hesitated, distracted by a glimpse of Nishi looking a bit surprised. Lucy blinked and refocused on Ryan. Looking directly at him, she said, “Lit.”

The way his lips stretched wider, Lucy knew she’d done it. She’d wowed Ryan Thompson. Adrenaline powered her feet back to her table. They may as well give her the noncompete now. The internship was hers. No one could deny what she’d just done.

Except, maybe, her teammates.

The moment Lucy touched her chair, Maddie attacked. “That’s not what we agreed on.”

“First, lower your voice.” Lucy dropped into her seat and leaned across the table. “Second, where were you in the ‘we’ last night? You barely participated. You only care about the design. You said so a million times.”

“I care because she cares.” Maddie glanced at Delia, who was pastier than usual.

Her normally downcast eyes were staring at Lucy with shock and disbelief.

Raw, real emotion. A rarity in Lucy’s world. It unnerved her. Almost made her want to take it all back. But even if that “almost” wasn’t there, it was too late. Ryan liked it. Ryan expected it. And really, pet grooming? Poodle coifs and bowties on ferrets weren’t going to get any of them into Pulse. Or her into Stanford.

“Listen,” Lucy started slowly, focusing on Delia, knowing they couldn’t do this without her. “I’m sorry. But we have to stand out. I mean, look at them.” She jutted her chin to the room. To Gavin, even though she didn’t intend to. “We have to be bold.”

“But I don’t go to bars,” Delia said.

“You don’t need to go to them to code them.”

“But I’m only seventeen. . . . If my parents think they sent me here for this . . .”