“How was the dance?” Zoe asks.

“I don’t know.” I shrug, not really sure what to say that won’t make me sound like a fuckwit or a sociopath.

“But what did you think of it?” She actually smiles a little, like she knows I probably hated it.

“It was on par with being slowly lowered into a sarlacc,” I say.

“A what?”

“You know, the pit monster that digests its victims over thousands of years? In Carkoon? On Tatooine? In Return of the Jedi?” None of what I’m saying seems to be clarifying. “Thankfully you rescued me from the after-party,” I add, hoping to divert the conversation from my own idiocy.

“I guess we have our own after-party. The Hermits’ Club.” A sad laugh escapes her. “I’m not great company — I’m sorry. Jonah’s gone and we won’t see him until Halloween. My parents are wrecked. Hunter probably hates me. It’s been a banner freaking weekend.”

“Try fucking,” I say.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Is that how you handle stress?”

I wheeze, clasping my hands to my head over the communication fail. Fucking as a coping mechanism!

She grins at me. “Because my chance for that is at the dance with someone else.”

I can hardly stop laughing long enough to get the words out. “No! God! I haven’t even kissed anyone! I meant the swear word. Try saying that actual swear word. Instead of the mock one.”

“Oh!” A laugh rolls out of her. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Fucking. It’s easy.” I may not speak that much, but I don’t let that stop me from using a full range of vocabulary when I do.

“I — I don’t . . .” She sounds stressed. “Okay, what the heck. I’ll say it.” But she hesitates.

“Fucking!” I prompt her.

“Um. Fucking!” Her hand claps over her mouth, which cracks me up. “Fucking!” she says again, louder. “Fuck! Fuck! Motherfucking fuckmonkey fuckers!” She starts laughing so hard, she can barely keep getting the f-bombs out.

I watch her, smiling, until she finally catches her breath. She might never have looked so beautiful or so free.

“That felt amazing,” she says.

“How amazing?” I’m a terrible influence, but everything she does and says right now seems to turn up the electric intensity between us. I can’t get enough.

“Fucking amazing!” She laughs.

“You’re amazing,” I say, and then I duck my head, feeling my cheeks flush. I hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

A silence falls that we don’t seem to know what to do with. Zoe glances toward her house, which is dark. “Hey. Do you want to come in?” she asks.

My heart grinds to a robotic halt, but I manage the slightest nod, wondering what it means that she’s inviting me in. It doesn’t seem to be an offer she makes often.