“One of the local football guys lives here. I think it’s his parents’ house,” Emily says.

Cars are lined up and down the street of the cozy residential area. The houses are big and the yards bigger, giving each one its privacy. Even still, I can hear the music from somewhere inside as we make our way up the street to the house.

When Emily opens the front door, I take a deep breath like it might be the last gulp of free air I get. There are so many people inside. I follow behind them, sticking close. Sydney is already here, but unless we run right into her, I don’t think I’ll be able to spot her.

It’s a little less crowded in the living room where a TV is on a Golden vs UCLA football game. There really is no escaping my past life. A year ago, I might have been there cheering in the student section with Camila. She has a thing for football guys. I glance around with her in mind. She’d be in heaven right now. There are so many big, burly guys I feel tiny by comparison.

UCLA scores and the room erupts in cheers. By some unspoken agreement, we move away from the noise and to the kitchen. We stand in line to get beer from the keg. Bri turns around and leans in, holding her phone up. “Sydney is upstairs in the library. She says to come up there after we get our drinks.”

“The library?” Emily snorts and then looks to me. She must read it on my face. “Your parents totally have a library, don’t they?”

“Where else do they store their first editions?” I mock.

Foamy beer in hand, the three of us make our way up the stairs. No easy feat with the steady traffic going up and down. The first room on the right opens up into a library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covering the entirety of two walls. On the other main wall, there’s a huge gas-burning fireplace, lit for the night.

Sydney sits on the couch in between Liv and a guy I don’t recognize sporting a hipster beard. Sydney waves us over with a big smile.

Emily and Bri take an empty love chair and Sydney scooches over closer to Liv to make room for me.

“Hey,” I say awkwardly to the guy I all but sit on top of trying to take my seat.

Sydney leans forward and turns to make more room for me. “Chloe, this is Frank.”

“Nice to meet you.” His brown eyes assess me.

I can’t tell if it’s interest or friendliness in his tone, but I do my best to keep mine polite with a clear signal I’m not looking for a random hookup just in case. “You, too.”