With a deep breath, Paul finally broke free from Alex and made his way across the room. He glanced back at her one last time, not unlike Danial had just moments earlier, before disappearing behind Guy’s front door. And as soon he did, Alex downed her prosecco and walked confidently to the kitchen.

There, a tight cluster of people gathered in the galley space, pouring drinks and passing joints and having conversations she wanted in on. Alex scanned the room before landing on a familiar face: Daphne’s sister, Renee. She was perched next to an open window and straddling the sill, one leg resting on the fire escape as she spoke to Danial and Daphne in hushed tones. Renee sat with the unique confidence of gangly, attractive women everywhere, with zero concern for her angles. In her high-waisted cutoff shorts, flowy black top, and dusty black ankle boots—worn down to disrepair from too many music festivals—Alex thought Renee looked cool and vaguely scary. She would never be so pedestrian as to dress up for a house party, and while the contrast between them would normally make Alex feel downright itchy in her bandage dress, the confluence of drugs in her system made her incapable of anything but admiration.

Alex reached for the bottle of prosecco, shaking it to discover that it was empty and hoping that it wasn’t entirely her doing. Truthfully, she couldn’t remember anymore. From across the kitchen, Renee’s eyes cut toward Alex, her ice-blonde hair whipping in her direction. Daphne turned to face Alex next, a withering look on her face that was miles away from the pleasantries they’d exchanged in the dining room. Without a word, Daphne and Danial moved past Alex and out of the kitchen, Danial once again looking back at her, this time with a look of confusion.

Alex suddenly found herself in damage control mode, her drug-induced confidence convincing her that the best move was to address Renee head-on about whatever had been said. She used her remaining coordination to move toward the windowsill, where Renee pulled a pack of American Spirit Blue from her banged-up Givenchy Pandora bag, shaking one loose.

“Do you have one more of those?” Alex slurred. She realized as soon as the words left her mouth how awkward they sounded.

“Hi, Alex,” Renee replied, shifting slightly on her seat as she lit her cigarette, notably ignoring the question. Even considering her usual condescension toward anyone whose parents weren’t blue on Wikipedia, she sounded particularly frosty.

“How are you?” Alex continued, squinting her eyes to steady her wobbly vision.

“I’m fine. I heard you got an internship in the city.” Her tone was menacing, every word icy and intentional. “Congratulations.”

“Yes.” She kept her reply as short as possible, minimizing the extent to which she could butcher it.

“And Danny’s staying here, too. That’s lucky, isn’t it?”