And then there’s a loud banging on the bathroom door.

I’m jolted into awareness, my eyes opening so fast there are stars behind them. Andrew’s eyes are open too and his breathing is ragged. He leans into me, trying to capture my lips again.

“Just ignore it,” he says.

The banging continues, loud and insistent.

I shake my head, trying to get my bearings, to come back into my body. And then the weight of it all crashes down on me—everything I’ve been trying not to think about.

“Keely, are you in there?” It’s Hannah’s voice at the door.

I reach behind me and turn off the faucet, and when the roar of it is gone, the silence is deafening. I shake my head again and try to back away from him, but his knees are still holding me in place, and we’re tangled together in his shorts. I remember what he said to me earlier: I’ve been looking for you. The same line he’s used on every girl at every party. He said it to Cecilia on my birthday, and then took her into the bathroom, into the shower. I can’t believe I fell for it, not when I’ve got his script memorized. I’ve always felt bad for the girls who have fallen for Party Andrew. And now I’m one of them.

“Let me go,” I say, trying to get away from him. Water sloshes over the tub and onto the tile floor. He moves his knees, leaning back against his side of the tub and pulling his shorts back on the rest of the way. “This is all one of your moves, isn’t it?”

He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, water spraying in all directions.

“What are you talking about?”

“How many girls have you taken a bath with?”

“Keely!” Hannah’s voice is still calling from the other side of the door, high and strained, and I can tell from the pitch of it that something’s wrong. I try to stand up, but the floor of the bathtub is slippery and I wobble, putting my hands out on either side for balance.

“I can’t believe after everything, you’re trying to get with me.”

“I’m not trying to get with you,” he says.

I know I’m as much to blame for this as he is, but it’s too hard to think about. It’s like what he said to me a few months ago, about how it’s easier to feel nothing than to get hurt. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t told Danielle the truth, why he’s using me as a distraction.

“I have to go,” I say, climbing out of the tub. I put my wet shirt back over my head and it’s freezing cold, clammy on my skin.