Jules doesn’t get a pass simply because she didn’t rope other people into the worst of her meddling. And, fine, my friends weren’t in on the date setup, but they nudged and pushed and meddled at the party, and they’ve spent the past year—despite my protests that I’m not interested in dating right now—throwing prospective partners in my path.

Maybe my grievances aren’t as extreme as I originally imagined. Maybe my revenge won’t be as grand. But this group still needs to get it through their thick skulls that they don’t get to disregard my wishes, even if their ultimate desire is for my happiness. The path to hell is paved with good intentions. Not all of them went as far as Jules, but they went far enough.

“BeeBee?” Jules says, pulling me from my churning thoughts.

Leaving her behind, I storm into the restroom, take the first stall that’s open, and slam it shut behind me. The restroom door swings open a moment later, before Jules enters the stall next to me.

“You’re really pissed,” she says, like I’ve stunned her.

I take a long slow breath before I say, “Jules, I know you love me. I know that in your warped way this was you doing what you thought was best for me. But I don’t need that. I need honesty. I need you and everyone else in our social circle to respect that I live my life my way, and it might not look like yours, but it’s still valid.”

In the neighboring stall, her feet tap on the tiles. Jules does that when she’s nervous. “We had good intentions,” she says quietly.

I barely swallow an empty laugh. Of course they did. And now they’re going to learn what “good intentions” get them.

When I leave the stall, my sister is already washing her hands, examining her reflection. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

“I really am sorry, BeeBee,” she says. “Are we okay?”

“Eventually we will be.”

After a beat, she nods, staring down at her hands as she dries them. “Can I ask, if you’re so angry, why are you and West here?”

“Because”—I grit my teeth, hating to say this even when I’m lying—“you were onto something. The texting worked and we clicked, okay? We’re giving it a chance. That’s all you get.” I shoulder open the restroom door and wave her ahead of me.

“Eek! Yay. I knew it. I knew it!” Jules spins so she’s backtracking, performing an obnoxious happy dance as we reenter the main room. “Okay. I’m calm. I’m cool.” Her eyes widen as they lock on something over my shoulder. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” I ask.

“West is coming toward you looking super intense. He’s—I think he just shoved someone out of the way and—”