So we relax while Braden finally does his share of the work. We both end up falling asleep at some point in the afternoon, and I think I might have actually napped through the exact moment our app went live, although I’m not sure. I might have been listening to Snooki rant at that moment. The point is, for the amount of our lives that we’ve poured into this thing for the last two months, the actual afternoon of the launch was anticlimactic. Well, for me and Sara.

“Will you two wake up?” Braden shakes my shoulders.

I rub my eyes and sit up. He walks over to wake Sara as well, but as soon as he touches her shoulder, she sits up.

“Who’s there?” She flails an arm, smacking Braden in the face.

He lurches backward, his hand going to his noise. “Ow.”

I laugh so hard that I snort.

“What the hell, Sara?” Braden says.

“Sorry.” She shrugs, which then morphs into a stretch with an accompanying yawn.

“You guys gotta at least rally for the launch party,” Braden says, walking to the kitchen. “We have four hundred RSVPs yes, and I’ve rented out a restaurant for the whole night. Of course guests will have to download the app to get in the door. And then get to platinum level to get in the VIP room with the open bar.” He picks up the toaster and examines his face in the reflection. “Luckily you didn’t leave a mark,” Braden says. “I need to look good tonight.”

“Ugh.” Sara stands and lets the blanket fall to the floor. “How much time do I have to get ready?” she asks.

“Forty-five minutes.”

“What?” She finally seems awake. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier? Do you even know what it’s like to be a girl?” She races into her bedroom and reemerges with towel and shower caddy in hand. “That’s barely enough time to dry my hair, let alone style it,” she says, before heading out into the hallway.

“I guess I should go get ready, too,” I say. Although my routine takes about fifteen minutes, so I’m in far less of a rush. Regardless, hanging out alone with Braden doesn’t appeal.

I’m ready with twenty minutes to spare, so I do what I usually do when I have a few extra minutes. I pick up my phone.

“Hello?” My dad’s voice sounds like home.

“Hey, Dad,” I say. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” he says, the same response I always get. “Work is fine, friends are good, the house hasn’t fallen down. How are you, though, college man?”