She snickers. “Well, no. I mean, maybe. He sent out an email saying he’s come down with an illness—” she uses air quotes “—but he didn’t say what the illness was. I like to imagine it’s something bad, though. Because then he won’t be able to teach for the rest of the term and we’ll all get automatic A’s.”

“You are an evil person,” I inform her. “And one day that voodoo black magic of yours is going to come back to haunt you. Seriously, don’t come crawling to me when you get Ebola. Anyway, I have to go. I just popped in to drop off my stuff before I head to rehearsal.”

“No way, Han-Han. You’re going to sit your pretty butt down on this couch, because we need to have a little chat.”

“I really can’t be late for rehearsal.”

“How many times has Cass been late for rehearsal?” she challenges.

Good point.

With a sigh, I walk over to the couch and flop down. “Okay. What’s up? And make it snappy.”

“Fine, you want snappy? How’s this—what on God’s green planet is going on with you and Garrett?”

My mouth snaps closed. Crap. Busted. I mean, I had texted her last night saying “over at Garrett’s—be home late” but Allie lives in her own Sean-centered bubble for so much of the time that I’d been hoping she wouldn’t bring up the subject.

“Nothing’s going on,” I answer.

Ha, if by “nothing” I mean “I went over to his house and we both got naked and masturbated in front of each other and then I had an orgasm and he had an orgasm and it was the best feeling ever.”

Allie sees right through my feeble attempt at lying. “I’m going to ask you this one time, and one time only—Hannah Julie Wells, are you dating Garrett Graham?”

“No.”

She narrows her eyes. “Fine. I’m going to ask you twice. Are you dating—”

“I’m not dating him.” I sigh. “But we are fooling around.”

Her jaw falls open. A second ticks by, then another, and then her blue eyes light up in victory. “Ha! I knew you were into him! Oh my God! Hold my juice—I think I need to break out in a happy dance! Do you know how to do the running man? If so, can you teach me right now?”

I laugh. “Oh God, please don’t do a happy dance. And it’s not a big deal, okay? It’ll probably fizzle out soon.”

Yeah, when I go out with Justin.

And double crap—this is the first time since Dean’s birthday that Justin has even crossed my mind. I’ve been entirely focused on Garrett, on the way he turns me on, the things I want to do with him. But now that I’m reminded of my impending date, I experience a sharp tug of guilt.

Can I really go out with someone else after what Garrett and I did last night?

But… It’s not like I’m dating Garrett. He’s not my boyfriend, and there’s no way he considers me his girlfriend, so…why not?

Still, the urge to cancel on Justin refuses to go away, but I push it aside as Allie continues to gush about the awesomeness of this hookup.

“Did you sleep with him? Oh, please say yes! And please say that it was good! I know you and Devon didn’t have Brangelina-level chemistry in the sack, but from what I’ve heard, Garrett Graham has some serious moves.”

Yep. He certainly does.

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

She looks disappointed. “Why not?”

“Because…I don’t know, because it didn’t happen. We did other stuff.” My face burns hotter. “And that’s all I’m saying about the subject, okay?”

“Not okay. BFFs are supposed to tell each other everything. I mean, you know everything about my sex life. You know about the time Sean and I tried anal, and you know how big Sean’s dick is—”

“Which is above and beyond TMI,” I interject. “I love you to death, but I never, ever wanted to know about the butt sex, and I definitely could’ve lived without you bringing out a ruler and demonstrating the size of your boyfriend’s penis!”

Allie pouts. “You’re the worst. But don’t worry, I’ll get all the dirty details eventually. I’m very good at prying out details.”

It’s true. She is. But she’s not getting a single one right now.

Rolling my eyes, I stand up. “All right, are we done here? Because I really need to go.”

“Fine, go. And no, we are not done.” She grins at me. “We won’t be done until you bust out that ruler and put an end to the age old question, how big is Garrett Graham’s—”

“Goodbye, perv.”

The first thing I see when I walk into the choir room fifteen minutes later is a cellist.

Question: How do you know when things have spiraled out of your control?

Answer: When you find a cellist in your rehearsal space and don’t even bat an eye.

Ever since MJ endorsed Cass’s choir idea, I’ve given up on arguing with either one of them. At this point, they can do whatever the hell they want—AKA whatever the hell Cass wants—because I simply don’t have the mental energy to play his game.

“You’re late.” Cass tsks with disapproval as I unzip my coat.

“I know.”

He waits for me to apologize.

I don’t apologize.

“Hannah, this is Kim Jae Woo,” MJ says with a hesitant smile. “He’s going to be accompanying you guys during the second verse.”