Maddie gestured to the table being set up for beer pong. “We were having fun without all this. Weren’t you?”

“I . . .” Lucy, for the first time she could remember, was at a loss for words. She thought of the past four years, when her social life revolved around parties, group dates to the movies, road trips to the beach with “friends”—half of whom weren’t even contacts in her phone. And then she thought of her mom, who had no friends except those in her book club, whose meetings she missed half the time. “I guess I was.”

And she wanted to keep having fun with Delia and Maddie. She opened the door to start corralling people out, but a massive keg blocked the exit. Gavin and one of his teammates hauled it into the room.

“And the party’s here! Put away your knitting needles, ladies!” Gavin high-fived half a dozen male hands before turning to Lucy, Maddie, and Delia. “Oh, sorry, and girls.”

“Sexist ass,” Maddie said.

Lucy ducked as sleeves of red Solo cups flew around the room. Most of their incubator would be here. How would it look if they weren’t? After she invited everyone? What if they missed something about Demo Day?

Socialize.

“Five minutes,” she said. “Ten, tops. Then we go.”

Delia looked to Maddie before they both nodded in agreement.

Perfect.

Someone tapped the keg, and Gavin commandeered it—doling out cups and downing a full one himself. After filling another, he jumped on top of the coffee table. He motioned for the music to be lowered and raised his cup in the air. “A toast to our host, Miss Lucy Katz. A perfect ten, in every way . . . including her app.”

Soft, awkward laughs rolled into bigger ones, and Maddie clenched her fists.

“Oh, wait, sorry, my mistake, our little Lucy happens to only be a Pulse 4.” He frowned. “Despite her private meetings with Ryan Thompson.”

Jealous, really, Gavin?

And of what? Her being with Ryan or the other way around?

“But, dudes, her Pulse may not be a ten, but the rest of her sure is—trust me.”

A gasp escaped before Lucy could stop it.

Gavin began grinding the air, and while Lucy couldn’t move, Maddie did. She rushed forward and rammed her foot into the coffee table. Gavin toppled off, saved from face-planting by one of his teammates.

Line not crossed, Gavin, line obliterated.

Lucy strode up to him, opened her palm, and was about to slap him when Delia caught her.

“No uninvited physical contact, remember?” she said of the clause they’d signed as part of their acceptance into the program.

Gavin winked. “I won’t tell if you do, Luce.” His breath stunk of booze—deeper, harder stuff than the beer he’d consumed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lucy said.

“Apparently what’s wrong is that a tie for first isn’t actually first, at least according to my old man.”