There she was, paused in the doorway, her eyes widened in surprise. I stood up automatically, as though she were a dignitary of some kind. She had a flute of something bubbly in her hand, nonalcoholic I assumed, and her messy hair was flipped onto one side, her lip ring glinting against the candlelight. She wore a denim pinafore covered in pins with pink tights with gold sparkly flats on her feet. I braced myself for the possibility that she would stare coldly at me and ask why I was there.

But she smiled.

I took her in, checking my body for signs of the wobble. For heartbeats skipped or stomach flipping. I was fine. She was just a girl. Just a girl I kissed who I could totally be friends with.

Then she crossed the room in a few steps and hugged me. The smell of fruity hair product wafted up my nose. Not that I smelled her hair, you understand. You don’t do that to friends.

She whispered in my ear, “I’m really glad you came.” Her breath tickled. She held my gaze for a moment as she pulled away, eyes twinkling. She gave me a long look up and down. Or maybe it just felt long. “I assume you’re hiding a present somewhere?” she said, her lips quirking slightly.

The wobble returned.

The wobble was a liability.

Before I could say something clever or just apologize, Jane spoke.

“Did you get through to your mum?” she asked with a sympathetic wrinkle of her forehead.

Ruby shook her head. She seemed sad but shrugged it off. Perhaps realizing that everyone was now looking at Ruby, Jane turned to me.

“Saoirse, how do you know my lovely niece already? She’s only been in town ten minutes and she’s made a friend.”

Ruby and I sat at the same time. Close enough that I could smell her perfume. Close enough that when I let my hand rest beside me, her little finger tickled mine. In a friendly way, of course.

“Oh, well, Oliver introduced us. Sort of,” I said meaningfully, reminding him I could rat him out about his party habit in return for not warning me about the sofa. There was panic in his eyes and I smiled smugly before continuing. “He is always getting people together, making connections and all that.”

“You’re in Oliver’s class?”

I nodded.

“What are your plans, then, for next year? University? Or maybe taking a gap year like our Ruby?”

“Saoirse is Oxford bound, Mum,” Oliver said before I could reply.

Ruby’s head turned in my direction. But I didn’t look directly at her. People have feelings about places like Oxford. They either think you’re some kind of genius (I’m not) or that you’re rich (I’m not) or that you think you’re better than everyone else (definitely not).

“Oh, very good, dear. What are you going to study?”