“You got a key?”

I moved forward, bumping into him so I could insert the key. No light meant you had to go with feel, and Keith had given me a crappy key. You had to insert it, then jerk it to the right just as you unlocked it, or the lock would get stuck. I was not going to explain that to Reese right now, when I was drunk, and he must’ve been…

I rounded back to him just as the door gave way. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you sleeping?” And who had turned that light off in his cabin?

He didn’t say anything, just grunted and stepped inside. “Where’s your light?”

Now that sane thought was fighting its way to the surface, I was having a moment. Reese Forster was in my cabin and asking where the light was. Did I want the light on? Of course I did. I might be deluded, but I wasn’t a wanton hussy, or I was trying to tell myself I wasn’t. Though with him, persuasion would go a long way.

“There’s a string in the middle of the room. You gotta pull it.”

I was not entering that fairway. With both of us standing in the middle of the room, swinging arms around, someone was bound to lose an eye.

A few more curses from him, he found it and yanked.

Light flooded the room. I was greeted by a pissed-off pro basketball player, who’d showered and was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that looked like it was made of the softest material on Earth. Seriously. Whoever made that shirt was a genius, because I wanted to touch it.

I was raising my hand to do just that when he shifted backward. “What are you doing?”

“Your shit looks so soft. I wanted—”

“My shit?”

“What?” I blinked. Huh?

“You said shit.”

“Shirt.” Shit. Um… I cocked my head. “What’s going on here?”

“I asked what you were doing coming in so late. And you reek of booze. I couldn’t sleep, and I heard you and your friend driving up, so I came down to wait for you. You walk like a tortoise.”

“I’m drunk. And it’s night.” That made the perfect sense to me, and I remembered his earlier question. “I was a unicorn.”

“I’m so fucking confused by you.” He rubbed his forehead. “What are you talking about now? A unicorn?” “Me and the abuela.”

“Abuela?”

“I call her THE abuela, but I’m sure she goes by Abuela too.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Sophia’s family. Her grandmother. And then there’s Nana, mija, and lots of cousins, but the abuela and I were a dancing unicorn together. I threw confetti.”

“I gathered.” He nodded at me. “You’re covered in glitter.”

I shrugged. “From the confetti and the dancing.”

“Where’d you get the confetti?”