I shepherd both guys into one of the back bedrooms and slam the door.

Bran pushes his hat out of his face and sips loudly from his SOLO cup. Not the red plastic kind, but a SOLO movie cup, with Alden Ehrenreich’s and Chewbacca’s faces on the front.

I exhale a calming breath and try to explain: “Look, I’m filling in for your sister while she does something for me, okay? Can you two play along?”

Bran and Beefcake exchange the same look, and then Beefcake says, “You didn’t murder her, did you?”

“What? No. Why would I—”

“Because that would be really uncool.”

“I didn’t murder her,” I reinforce, “but I will murder you two if you blow my cover.” I give Beefcake another look. “Or try to. Listen, just trust me and play along, okay?”

“Then what’s my sister doing for you?”

Ah. Of course he would ask that. I try to think up a good excuse, but I’m running on four hours of sleep and am lacking all creativity. They’d probably see through it, anyway, and then text Imogen to get the real story.

Defeated, I pull off my beanie and glasses. “I’m Jessica Stone.”

Bran whistles low. “Have you been rehearsing that?”

“What?”

They exchange another look before Beefcake says, “We kinda knew who you were since our run-in earlier. I mean, the glasses and beanie obviously work, but I know Monster. She’s my sister. And she definitely doesn’t wear glasses. But she does look a lot like you.”

I stare at them, thinking of nothing but the insurmountable horror of them telling everyone they know. Because who wouldn’t? “Did you tell the paparazzi?”

Beefcake looks stunned. “Why would we do that?”

“It’d be the story of the week.”

“We’re not like that,” Bran says. “We’ll keep your secret, and I know for a fact that Harper doesn’t know you’re, well, you.”

“But you should tell her,” adds Beefcake.

This can’t be that easy. I look at the two of them, but they seem sincere enough. Could my secret really be safe?

Then Beefcake stretches out his hand and says, “Let’s start over. I’m Milo Lovelace, Monster’s younger brother, and this is my boyfriend, Bran Simons.”

“You are very muscular for a Milo,” I comment, and shake his hand. His grip is strong, like Dare’s.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Milo says with a laugh. “You shouldn’t keep Harper waiting. And, before you worry, the shiner on your face doesn’t look that bad.”

“Thanks?”

We rejoin the party. Bran offers me a drink in a red Solo cup. This is like a scene straight out of every teen movie I’ve ever seen. “Drink? It’s Kara’s specialty—she’s the one hosting the party. We call it the Oh No.”