“Who are you texting?” Hannah asks from next to me. “You’re so red right now.” She reaches over and grabs the phone from my hands, which are too sweaty to hold on. “Oh my god, James Dean. He finally texted you? This is amazing!” She sits up, folding her legs under her and tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear.

Danielle and Ava sit up too.

“Wait, who is that?” Ava asks. “A guy from your work?”

Hannah shows them the texts.

“Dude, he’s really into you.” Danielle reaches over to take the phone.

“No he isn’t,” I answer automatically, shoving the idea away before I can latch on to it. I can’t let my hopes rise like that. It’s easier not to care.

“No, seriously,” she says, scrolling up. “He texted you three times in a row.”

“What do I say?” I ask, my face somehow getting even redder.

“What guy is this?” Ava asks. “There are rules to these things. You have to wait at least ten minutes. And no exclamation points. Ever. Enthusiasm is way too desperate.”

“You know who he is, actually,” Hannah answers. “We saw him at Dunkin’ Donuts. The morning after, well.” She clears her throat and looks at Danielle before continuing. “After Andrew’s party.”

“I REMEMBER HIM!” Ava shrieks, almost spilling the bottle of nail polish in her hand. “Cheekbones for days.”

“He went to EVmU, right?” Danielle asks.

“Yeah, he’s a junior,” I answer.

“Oh,” she says. “Interesting.” She hands the phone back to me with a blank expression.

“What?” I grab for it, relieved to have his messages back in my possession. “Do you know him or something?” I think about how she almost approached him but then changed her mind at the last second.

“No, it’s nothing.” She shrugs and rummages through the box of nail polish.

“What?” I ask again. “Just say it.”

She grabs a little bottle of black nail polish and then looks up at me.

“It’s just . . . well . . . he’s in college and he’s probably been with his fair share of girls. I mean, he looks like a model.”

“What, are you saying I’m not good enough for him?”

“Keely, you’re beautif—” Hannah begins to say, but Danielle speaks over her.

“You’re a virgin. That matters.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t know, obviously, so he’s probably trying to sleep with you and turn you into a steady hookup. But if you tell him you’re a virgin, it could only go two ways: he’ll be weirded out and lose interest, or he’ll take your virginity and never speak to you again. Neither of those are good scenarios.” It’s blunt, but it sounds true, and it’s completely discouraging. “I just doubt he wants to teach you how to have sex. He’s got too many options to be interested in that.”