I opened my mouth, and a squeak came out. Closing it, I scanned the group until I landed on Vanessa. She was watching me, her eyebrows raised, but the moment we locked eyes, she sprang into action.

Bathroom, she mouthed, bolting toward me. She reached down and scooped up the microphone before handing it to the DJ. Then she took my arm and dragged me away. As we navigated through the crowd, Alanis was turned off, and as if to further test the limits of my sobriety and sanity, the song from the video screen was turned up.

I gasped as the sounds floated through the room.

It was the song from the car.

The one I’d talked about with Lotti.

The man on the television was singing the same song I’d talked about last night with the man on the freaking television.

What the hell?

As we stepped into the bathroom, Vanessa let go of my arm and walked quickly past the stalls, stooping to look beneath each one in a clean and easy motion—she’d obviously done this before. When she was done, she whipped around and placed both hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side.

“What happened out there?”

I swallowed, swaying, and Vanessa shook her head. “Somebody’s tolerance has gone way down,” she said. “You’ve had, what, a drink and a half?”

“I…” I stared at the bathroom door, where I could still hear the faint sounds of Lotti’s music video.

“What happened out there?” Vanessa asked again. “You said he flirted with you?”

“I did?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “And that he even likes your unwashed hair, which, for the record, is disgusting.”

I took a deep breath but didn’t respond.

Vanessa had very quickly become one of my closest friends, and even so, I wasn’t sure I should tell her the truth.

I barely believed myself. Why should she?

“Paula?” she asked, watching my expression. “Who were you talking about?”

I winced, lifting my finger to point in the air.

“Him.”

Vanessa followed my finger up to the ceiling and then looked back at me. “What?”

I sighed and walked over to the door. Yanking it open, I let the music stream in. I pointed out across the room at one of the television screens and spoke again.

“Him.”

She looked out into the crowd and then back at me. “Who?” she asked, clearly losing patience.

“Him,” I said a third time, this one a whisper. “On the TV.”

Vanessa looked up at the screen, turned back to me, and then looked back out at the TV. She blinked a few times, her mouth open, and then her expression quickly turned to worry.

“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have forced this night out,” she said with a chuckle. “Come on. We should go home—”