“You went to bed early that night,” Hannah says, turning her back on the mirror to look at me fully. “Everyone saw them making out at midnight—typical Party Andrew. It was no big deal.”

But it was a big deal. If it had been no big deal, we would have laughed about it together the next morning when he woke up at the foot of my bed, his hair sticking up at all angles, the imprint of the rug patterned into his right cheek.

Missed you last night, Collins, was all he said. And then he pulled the blankets off me so that I shrieked in the chilly morning air.

I shouldn’t have been kept in the dark about it for a whole year.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask Hannah.

“I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“You didn’t have to protect me,” I say. “I wouldn’t have cared.”

“You would have,” she insists. “I know you don’t like Danielle. You put up with her. You’ve always put up with her because she was my friend. But you don’t like her. And I’ve always wanted you guys to get along. I’ve tried so hard to push you together, because I love you both, and I knew this would ruin that. This would be the thing that made it official, that turned you and Danielle antagonistic.”

“It wouldn’t have been like that,” I say, protesting although I’m not sure I believe it.

“And you’re protective of Andrew,” she says. “Because he’s yours.”

“Hannah, he’s not mine, that’s—”

“And I knew it would hurt you that he went for her.”

“He hooks up with girls all the time, Hannah.”

“Yeah, but they don’t matter to you like Danielle does. Even if it wasn’t a big deal for him, I knew you would—”

“It was a big deal for him,” I say, letting out a humorless laugh.

“It wasn’t,” Hannah insists. “That’s why I didn’t need to tell you. It would only have made things worse, like it is now—”

“He’s in love with her,” I say, letting the words finally tumble out of me.

“What?” Her face is pale.

“He told me last night.”

“But that’s not . . .” She brings a hand up to her hair and pulls it out of her face, back into a bun, like she means business. “That’s not true.”

“They’re going to prom together,” I say, as if that settles it.

“I thought . . .” She trails off again and I can see the wheels turning. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“He’s going to tell her he loves her at prom.”

“But,” Hannah says. She reaches behind her and unzips the zebra dress. “But they don’t even know each other.”

“Of course they know each other. We’ve been going to school together for like ten years.”