I shake my head in dismissal of her flattery, but she’s already flipping a hand.

“Trust me. I was the one wearing it.” Her eyes flick up to mine, then move over me once again. “Your body is insane.” She looks up and I almost feel afraid to look away. Something about the way her eyes hold mine makes me shrink into myself a little. “And you’re so pretty. Like, beyond.”

Her words flow so easily, they sound recycled, like she says this to everybody, rinse and reuse. And then she smiles, a second too late.

Once again, I’m at a loss for words. The right words. Any words. I don’t know what I expected her to be like, but this isn’t it, and regardless of whatever fantasies I had about coming here tonight, about this moment, our pussies do not immediately unite us. Taylor has an edge about her, the way she walks, the way her eyes seem to cut straight through you when she looks at you. She’s so intense, you almost feel hypnotized in her presence. And there’s something oddly calculating about her, something I can’t quite place.

“Thanks,” I finally say, disappointed with how lame that sounded given how long it took me to come up with it. Before I can think of anything else to say, Taylor leans into me. Her perfume is heady and sweet, like a bed of wet gardenia petals. I can taste it on my tongue. When she wraps her arms around me, our bodies barely touch. Except for her nipples. They press into my collarbone, hard and small, and I can’t help but think she did this on purpose, as if to say, look at what I got, bitch, like it isn’t already painfully obvious. I try to hug her back in the least awkward way I can, but I’m pretty sure it’s still awkward. When she straightens, her smile is broad, and I still don’t know if I trust it. The smile I give in return is perfunctory, but I hope she can’t see the effort in my eyes.

Nate leans for Taylor’s ear. “Think this is a good time to introduce her to your dad?”