“Um, yeah. Okay, I’ll ask him.” Brynn turns to find Quinton, but only takes a few steps before she’s walking back to me and grabbing my arm, dragging me out of the room.

“Brynn!” I hiss out. “What are you doing?”

She doesn’t answer until we are in the bathroom with the door locked behind us and the faucets all turned on.

“What happened?” She stands in front of me, her hands firmly on her hips and fire behind her eyes.

“Nothing happened. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t even try that shit with me.” She jabs a finger into my shoulder and I’m convinced I’ll have a fingertip-sized bruise later. “If you knew my friends, you’d know that I’ve been witness to Mustang drama for what feels like my entire life. I’ve even gotten Vonnie Lamar to break. You don’t stand a chance against me.”

“Lavonne Lamar? From Colorado Everyday?” My attention is that of a squirrel. “I loved when she was on that show! Did you see the episode where she did the fish pedicure? I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. Why’d she quit?”

“Oh my god.” She closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath. “You’re just like them. As soon as you and Quinton admit you’re into each other, you’re going to fit in perfectly.”

“Me and Quinton?” I put my hand on her forehead. “Are you sick? Do you have a fever? Do you need me to call nine-one-one?”

She slaps my hand away, which, like the finger jab, also hurts way more than it probably should.

“I think you’re underestimating my deep knowledge when it comes to Mustangs romances,” she says. “I was a bridesmaid in Gavin and Marlee Pope’s wedding for a reason. TK and Poppy’s rekindling basically took place in HERS. I’ve conducted a deep dive over the courtship between me and Maxwell. And I won’t even get into how many wives and girlfriends I’ve counseled in my office after Wednesday meetings, but hint? It’s a fucking lot.”

“Well, ‘fucking’ is the largest form of measurement, so I can only imagine.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

“But the highest form of intelligence,” I finish for her. “Why does everybody always forget the end of that quote?”

“I think the real question is why do you know the entire quote?”

I have no good comeback for that. “Fine. Whatever. You win this round.” I revert back to my angsty teen routine.

“Ha! Victorious again!” She does a double fist pump before the realization that a double fist pump is way worse than knowing an iconic quote and lowers her arms in defeat. “Call it a tie?”

“I can live with that.”

We shake hands and suddenly, this feels like a very formal bathroom meeting.