She brushed my shoulder, her hand finding mine, like our wrists were magnetized. “Remind me why I let you come over?”

“Because deep down inside, Eliza, you find me utterly irresistible.”

Her breath tickled my ear. “You’re one comment away from having your visiting privileges revoked.”

“I guess we should stop talking, then,” I said.

She lightly punched my chest, coming in for another hug.

The rain puttered on the roof. As her warmth melted into me, I lay my face in her hair, feeling lucky. Having this much trust for each other, so fast, was both exhilarating and terrifying. The best part was, she didn’t want to hang out with me because my name was Nick Maguire, or because I played soccer, like Madison or anyone else had. For whatever reason, she genuinely liked me.

“Tell Carter in the morning?” she proposed. “That way if he murders you, I’ll still have gone to a party with you with you at least once.”

“Deal.”

She kissed my cheek. “Think he’s done picking out his clothes?”

I nodded. “Time to rock ’n’ roll.”

Squeezed between Austin and Eliza, I tried not to say anything dumb as Hannah drove us to Jeff’s party. Carter had taken shotgun, even though Austin had called it. Instead, Austin, Eliza, and I took turns tapping Carter’s shoulder and having him guess who did it.

Jeff’s Karvotsky’s house made the night better. I didn’t know where his parents were, but wherever they were, it wasn’t there. Which made us start to respect Jeff. Getting your parents to leave your house when they know you’re having a party is no easy feat. Jeff had finally stepped into bro-zone.

“Wazzup?” Austin shouted into the living room. After one step inside, I already recognized a sea of faces: the entire soccer team had showed, plus a decent number of the juniors and seniors. Jeff greeted us.

“We got drinks in the kitchen, games in the basement, and the chill room est ici,” he told us. Jeff was the kind of nerd who took French in middle school instead of Spanish. Since he was providing this rager, we let it slide.

Jeff pointed to Hannah and Eliza. “Ladies, hats sont là-bas . . .” he pointed to a bin next to the couch filled with paper pointed party hats.

“Oooooh.” I hip-checked Eliza as she reluctantly went over to it.

All small towns have traditions, and the tradition for the Cassidy High School house parties was this: everyone who wasn’t explicitly invited had to wear a party hat. And then if you were caught as a crasher and you weren’t wearing your hat . . . you had to drink a mixture of whatever the host wanted.

“What are the games?” I asked.

“T or D, something with pong.”

I searched for Carter, my built-in beer/water-pong partner—the beverage didn’t matter, we were in it to win it—but he was already beelining for the kitchen.

“Yo, Carter!” I shouted. “You in?”

He looked between me and Hannah, who was securing her pink party hat, and shrugged. Forget it. I turned to the girl next to me, who had her hands in her pockets, fidgeting.