She rolls her eyes. “Your bed or no new roommate.”

“Charades time!” Grace yells. “Let’s get teams together.”

Grabbing our drinks, we return to the living room, where we play charades until everyone is yawning. A few years ago, I’d have called something like this lame—it’s something I’d have laughed at—but not anymore. I actually enjoy this shit.

In the past, my idea of good times with friends was expensive clubs, traveling abroad, or snorting lines.

“You need a ride home?” I ask Cassidy as the townhome starts clearing out.

“Obviously.” She smacks my arm. “You picked me up. You’re responsible for getting me home.”

“Like your babysitter.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of like your date.”

Her words smack into me like a train. If you looked up the definition of date in the dictionary, it’d be what I’ve done tonight—drove to her house, picked her up, and attended a party together. Sure, during the drive, I told myself I was picking up a friend, but it’s growing harder and harder to keep up with that lie.

Neither of us has mentioned our three-second kiss at Archer’s party—shocking, considering Cassidy loves talking about everything, especially conversations I’d kill to avoid. You don’t kiss people unless you’re attracted to them or have feelings for them. If she asks me why I kissed her, I’d have to admit to both of those reasons.

I say my good-byes while Cassidy gives out hugs and tells Jamie that she can’t wait to meet her little girl.

By the time we’re walking to my car, our masks are off, and her cape is balled up in her hands. As soon as she slides into the passenger seat, she starts a series of yawns.

“Ugh,” she moans around another yawn. “I could sleep for nine straight days and still be exhausted.”

I crank up the heat and our seat warmers. “You been partying too hard?”

She works all the time, but she could be fitting in clubs and parties in her spare time. If she does, she never talks about it.

She shakes her head, rubbing at her eyes. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe it’s the apartment … living alone …” She tips her head down and studies her red nails. “At first, it was nice. Now, it’s just … weird sometimes.”

She’s not telling me everything. I know when Cassidy is holding back.

“Why? Your neighbor giving you a bad vibe?”

“No, not at all,” she rushes out. “All my life, I’ve been surrounded by people, and now, I’m not. It’s different, is all.” Perking up in her seat, she releases a ragged breath. “We made a pretty good Batwoman and Robin tonight, huh?”

I chuckle. “Gotta say, with the exception of Buzz Lightyear, we had the best costumes tonight.”