I can’t stop myself from laughing, but I roll my eyes. “Okay, Gavin, fine. And you have nice teeth.”

“And about the party,” he says.

“What about it?” I say, my smile fading. Oh no. He’s going to say something about my dance.

“I felt bad when you showed up and you saw—I should have warned you that Ellory and I are kind of together.”

“Oh!” I say. That. The surprise that this is what we’re talking about clears my head fast.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continues.

“Hurt me?” I am going to die. “Do you think I’m still into you?”

“Of course not!” he says sympathetically.

He absolutely does.

“I just didn’t want you to think I was a dick,” he continues.

I don’t know if he knows it, but he’s being a dick.

“Because you have a girlfriend and I don’t?”

“You’re gorgeous,” he continues. He didn’t hear me, or he’s pretending he didn’t. He pats my hand. “The thing about you is that you’re hot because you’ve got such a great spirit. You don’t need to look like a supermodel. You’d get a boyfriend without a problem.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.”

I stand up, and he does too.

“I just want you to be happy is all,” he says like he means it.

“You’re the sweetest.”

He doesn’t seem to notice my tone.

“So are we friends, then?” he says.

“Do you not hear yourself?” I say.

“What do you mean?” His frown makes a tiny V between his eyebrows. I sigh.

“It’s—you know what, never mind.” My blood sugar is too low for this conversation.

Just the idea of explaining it to him irritates me even more.

He takes my scarf to wind it around my neck. There’s that warm, woodsy smell. “Hey! Congratulations on Angles,” he says, like I could forget.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” I say, tugging the scarf out of his hands.

“It’s so shitty you can’t go,” he adds.

“What? I’m going. Why wouldn’t I go?”

“Without the scholarship, though, aren’t you—”

“Aren’t I what?” My voice is solid ice, and now he’s the one blushing, the copper skin of his cheekbones brightening into molten.

“I mean, I know that—that you’re…”

I let him flounder for a second while I work to rein in my already irritable temper, keep my voice even. “Broke?” I ask. “Broke is the word you’re looking for.”