We stop at the end of the street and I check the address.

“I think this is it. 415 Maplewood.”

The house is white and slightly run-down, peeling paint and scattered trash. There’s a faint thump of music coming from inside and a murmur of voices, too quiet to understand.

“Were we supposed to bring something?” I ask no one in particular, an overwhelming sense of anxiety filling me.

“Like what?” Hannah asks.

“I don’t know.” I tap my phone against my palm. “Like a ham?”

“No one brings a ham to a party.”

“No,” I say, “I mean, like, a housewarming gift. Something to eat. Cheese and crackers?”

“This is why you have us.” Danielle pats my shoulder.

“Should I text him?” I look back down at my phone. What’s the proper protocol for attending a party where you only know one person?

“Let’s just go in,” Ava says, walking purposefully across the lawn and up the front steps. She pulls on the door handle but it doesn’t move. “It’s locked.”

I take a deep breath and type a quick text.

I’m outside

We wait just a moment. There’s a clicking sound as the lock slides over and the door opens, and then Dean is illuminated in the door frame. Tonight’s shirt says SPIELBERG. He’s smiling in a relaxed, easy way, and I can tell he’s been drinking. He looks both surprised and happy to see me.

“You made it!” He brings me into a hug, and I die a little bit at the contact. He holds on a moment too long to be casual, before pulling back and finally noticing the others. “Oh, there are more of you!”

“Yeah, sorry. I brought friends,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm. “I hope that’s okay.” Why didn’t it occur to me to ask?

“Yeah, it’s cool. Come in.” He ushers us into the hallway, where it’s bright and warm. There’s a pile of sneakers by the door and I start taking off my heels, thankful I can finally be rid of them, but Danielle gives me a sharp look and continues down the hall, so I leave them on. It smells faintly like stale beer and marijuana smoke, something earthy and rotten, and as we walk, my heels stick to the floor.