TAYLOR SLIPS INTO THE BATHROOM to hide from a drunken frat boy named Skip. He seemed nice at first, someone to chat with while Willa was playing beer pong. And the cherry Jell-O shots were kind of fun, too. Except after the second shot, Skip’s mouth came way too close to Taylor’s mouth and his breath smelled like beer. “Come up to my room?”

Taylor was not interested in kissing a random boy, especially one named Skip. She pushed him gently away and pretended she saw Willa across the room. “Hey, I need to talk to my friend for a second. I’ll be right back.”

Now she sits on the closed toilet lid, wondering how long she’ll have to wait before Skip forgets about her and moves on to another girl. He was pretty drunk, so maybe not too long. Taylor hasn’t seen Campbell since they arrived, and she lost track of Willa when she followed Skip to the kitchen for Jell-O shots.

Someone knocks, and Taylor hopes it’s not him. “You’ve been in there awhile,” a muted female voice says through the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, um—just a minute.”

Taylor washes her hands even though she didn’t use the toilet and wipes them on her dress instead of the grubby towels. Just outside the door is a girl, waiting for her turn. Her shiny black hair is swept into a messy topknot, and she’s wearing a Sister Kismet T-shirt, which surprises Taylor. Sister Kismet is one of her favorite bands, but not too many people have heard of them.

“Sorry,” Taylor says. “I was kind of hiding from someone.”

“Skip?”

“How’d you know?”

The girl and Taylor trade places, but the girl lingers against the doorframe for a fraction. Her eyebrows disappear beneath her bangs and her teeth are bright white against the red of her lips as she smiles. “I noticed.”

The door closes and Taylor leans against the wall, her cheeks flaming and her pulse racing, neither of which has happened to her in a very long time. She should go find Willa or Cam, but part of her wants to stay here until the girl comes out of the bathroom.

“Taylor!” Skip shoulders his way through a group of girls to where Taylor is standing. “There you are!”

Beside her, the door cracks open. The girl’s hand reaches out, pulls Taylor into the bathroom, and slams the door in Skip’s face.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Taylor says.

“My pleasure. I’m Vanessa, by the way.”

Vanessa’s hazel eyes are ringed with dark, thick lashes, and her nose turns up a little at the tip. On her chin, near the bottom corner of her mouth, there are a couple of pale pimples covered with concealer, but they disappear when she smiles. The whole effect leaves Taylor feeling a tiny bit . . . breathless. “I’m Taylor.”