“Sorry, excuse me,” I say, swimming upstream and stopping when I can’t weave around a girl who keeps inching right when I go left and left when I go right. “We saw ours—we’re just trying to leave.”

The girl blocking my path looks confused. “Oh, I’m not trying to see my grade. I’m trying to talk to you guys.” She adjusts her glasses.

I’m taken aback. “What? Why?” I take a step back and bump into someone behind me. I already know it’s—

“Braden Hart.” He reaches past me to shake her hand.

Someone else taps my shoulder, but when I turn around I am met with a wall of classmates, not just one. People say my name and thrust business cards at me as if they’re asking for autographs.

“That was great!” a guy in a button-down says.

“Best project I’ve seen!” says one of the girls I recognize as having rejected me from her group the first day.

“When will it go live?” another girl asks as she throws her Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder.

My eyebrows furrow. What is she talking about? This was just a class project. I begin to respond, “Oh, we’re not—it’s just for—”

“Before the end of the month!” a voice interrupts me. Braden reaches past me again, this time with his business card. “Send me an email and we’ll let you skip right to gold.” He flashes her a winning smile.

I feel like I might throw up.

The girl giggles and blushes as she puts the card in her bag before spinning around and walking away.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I whisper to Braden.

“Her dad works at the biggest venture capital firm in the Valley,” he replies through teeth locked in a smile. He waves to the girl as she glances over her shoulder. She smiles and tucks the card into her purse, throwing up a call sign with her thumb and pinky.

“This, Sara Jones,” he says when she is through the door, “is how million-dollar stories begin.”

Part Two

Move Fast, Break Things

Chapter Ten

Roberto

“I just don’t know.” Sara sighs. “It’s a miracle we pulled this off as a class project. You can’t exactly photoshop demos in the real world.” She stares at her drink.

We are toasting with red cups of cheap champagne in the main room of my suite to celebrate this morning’s success.

“Dude.” Braden is already on his second cup. “This could make our careers.”

She considers his words. “I have dreamed of starting my own company. And there are so few female founders... A dating app isn’t exactly what I pictured, but then again, Whitney Wolfe is one of my heroes, and she made Bumble.”

“Exactly.” Braden’s eyes are bright. “This is your chance to be like her—a trailblazer. Plus, we could be talking millions.”