“That closet thing I texted you all about last night. I shoved him into it and then squished my boobs right up against him,” I say. “I’m worried he thinks I did it on purpose. He seemed a little upset about it last night.” Thinks I’m fat, drifts into my head. I shake it off.

“Aw, no, I don’t think so,” Katherine says. “All he told me was that it was a good night and we’ll like the space.”

“That’s it?” I say. She pats my arm, nodding. “But we were jammed in tight. My boobs—” I gesture at them.

She shakes her head at me, smiling. “Your boobs are great.”

“I want you to know that I will never do that again,” I say, and then she looks confused. I try to clarify. “Rub up against him. You know. If you. And he. I don’t know if you—but maybe if you did. And if he did. If you two—”

It takes a second, and then her face goes bright.

“I don’t have a crush on him!” she says, laughing. “I mean I do—”

“You do!”

She didn’t mean to say that, I can tell, and I am filled with a rush of excitement.

“No! Not him,” she says, her voice even lower. We’re both crouching down behind the racks, whispering in excited hisses. Or at least I am. We’re ridiculous.

Oh. Oh!

“Who?” I say. She has never said this or anything like it. “Do the others know? Should I not say anything? Have you told anyone? Katherine!”

She’s shaking her head, and her cheeks are so red, and she waves her hand at me.

“No,” she hisses. “Don’t say anything! I shouldn’t have said anything! I’m so embarrassed. Aw, shit,” she says, very sincerely.

“Katherine!”

Across the room Taylor hoots again, and we both jump a little. Katherine leaps up and heads over that way, and I follow after putting the cowboy boot back with its mate, my head whistling. I won’t say anything. To anyone. I will just die of all the not saying until she says something. As for Jack, he still probably really likes her, and I’m going to have to let that be his problem. And my liking him—I have so much self-preservation, I can sell it for profit at this point. And it’s all a mess, but luckily there’s stuff to distract me because whoa—the suit looks like it was made for Nevaeh. Slim pinstripe trousers in slate gray, a single-breasted jacket, a vest.

“Amazing,” I say.

Nevaeh does a slow, sexy spin so we can appreciate her from all angles.

“Are you going to try anything on?” she asks me. Argh.

“Twilight burlesque,” I joke. “When I take off all my clothes, I sparkle!”

“Really?” Katherine says, her brow wrinkled.

“No, not really,” I say, sighing.