“I only had a few sips at the restaurant,” he says. “I knew if I got drunk, I’d, well . . . I just knew it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Thanks,” I say, because I know what he’s implying—what he can’t say in front of Danielle. He’s worried if he drank he would have given something away, would have let something slip about the Plan he wouldn’t be able to explain. “And thanks for taking me home.”

“You’re on the way,” he says, and the casualness of it stings a little bit.

The night is warm, but the air streaming through the window is raising goose bumps on the bare skin of my arms. I feel awkward sitting in between the two of them. Like I’m intruding. This is the end of their date, the part where he drives her home and drops her off and tells her he had a nice time. Now I’m here, squished in between them, each side of me touching a side of them.

Nobody is talking, and so I wonder if they feel weird too. I’m thankful for the music playing on the radio, because it drowns out some of my anxious thoughts.

It only takes about five minutes to get to Danielle’s house, and when Andrew pulls the truck to a stop in her driveway, I feel the awkwardness expanding—like the truck is a tank filling with water and we’re slowly going to drown.

“You’ll get inside okay?” Andrew asks. Danielle rummages through her bag for her keys, pulling out a key chain with a leopard-print heart. She pulls down the passenger-side mirror and checks out her reflection, using her thumb to wipe the skin around her eyes.

“My parents go to sleep at like nine thirty.” She snaps the mirror shut and turns to us, smiling at Andrew and me with equal dazzle. “But just in case—do I smell like booze?”

She leans closer to me and breathes in my face and I cough. Her breath is sharp and tangy, the remnants of red wine. I start to nod but she leans past me toward Andrew. “You’ve been drinking too, Collins. You won’t be able to smell it.” And then she grabs the front of Andrew’s shirt and pulls him even closer, so her mouth is only a few inches away from his. She breathes again. “All good?”

Andrew laughs and shakes his head. “You smell like a bar.”

“Shut up, Reed,” she says. “Like you’ve ever been in a bar.” And still their mouths are only a few inches apart. She’s leaning over me, her body pressed into mine like I’m not even there, and her hair is in my face. I move it out of the way so I can see them, even though seeing them is making it hard to breathe.