Stephen walked up the steps toward the presenter, but instead of accepting the trophy, he detoured to the secondary stage, like maybe he’d assumed I was still standing there to congratulate him.

“Watch this part,” Lucy giggled, chewing a fistful of popcorn noisily. She’d invited us all over for a movie night, but Merry was with Grant and the other girls chose not to come. After being attached at the hip to the rest of Gloss for the summer, I was excited to spend time with anyone else. “Here.” She jerked a finger at her television screen at the moment the idea seemed to come to Stephen. He opened his arms for an embrace. The girl greeting him on that stage—me—had a look of surprise on her face, but she didn’t resist when he put his arms around her.

“Did he stick his tongue in your mouth?” Lucy asked, and, giggling, flicked a kernel into my hair. “Did he slobber?” I wiped my mouth in memory.

Quick as a snake, he’d dipped her and gave her a giant kiss on the mouth in front of the entire live studio audience—and the ten million viewers at home.

“WELL” GRANT SAID, climbing over the back of a booth and sitting down on the edge, balancing two drinks, “here’s to the Gloss girls, who don’t know when to leave a stage.” He handed Merry a glass of some amber liquid and clinked his beer bottle against it in a cheers-ing motion. “And here’s to winning the big one next year.”

Illuminated Eyes came and went with passing head nods in our direction, but Grant stayed behind, smiling crookedly at all of us, then pulled Merry to him and met his lips with hers.

Yumi blew a strand of hair off her face. “I’m going to go mingle,” she said, getting up and brushing off her pants.

We were at a Manhattan nightclub after-party, shmoozing, though I was still ruminating over what had happened at the show.

I left my purse and Alex’s camera on the table with Merry while I grabbed a drink. I sidled up to the bar, which was long, glittered with black mica, and packed with svelte bodies, but there was only one bartender that I could see. “Excuse me,” I shouted over the noise, but he slid farther down the bar, hands flying over bottles, dipping and pouring and shaking. I waited a minute as he slowly made his way up the bar, chatting effusively with clients and handing out glasses. As he approached, another body slid past me and stood in front of me, effectively blocking the bartender’s view. “Hey!” I said, tapping the offender on his leather-clad shoulder.

The ear, at first, was a perfect seashell that slid into view. Then a stubbly cheek, that beautiful nose, and two piercing blue eyes. “Oh,” I squeaked.

“We meet again.” Stephen gave a quick grin and turned back to the bar, ordering for the both of us. He handed me a gin and tonic. In the dark room illuminated by various neon sconces along the wall, Stephen’s eyelashes cast long, sideways shadows across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheek, giving him a boyish appearance. Instead of a battle-hardened cowboy, he looked like he could be a student at some preppy college.

“Thanks.” I liked Stephen—but did not like that kiss. I didn’t like the questions that it would bring up when I got home. I hated how flustered I felt around him—how he’d made me wonder if yes was no or no was yes—and how he’d made me feel like this ever since I first met him in 1999.

There was only one thing to do in this situation: evade. I drank the entire gin and tonic in a few unladylike gulps and raised the empty glass to him like a toast before moving off to the dance floor.

My feelings were complicated. He’d kissed me in front of that entire audience without even asking. But it was the heat of the moment, I thought. And another: Maybe he actually likes you.

Something bubbled up inside me. A curious finger of want. When he caught up with me, as I’d half expected him to do, and moved against me to dance, I acquiesced.

The music was loud, beating consistently. My shoes were sticky on the ground, dragging through dropped straws and the glaze of drinks already lost. We didn’t talk anymore, just danced. One song, two. We took a break to down some shots. I eyed him critically, wondering when he was going to give up and grind against someone else, but after we’d slugged whiskey together, he was on me again. After a few songs, Rose tipsily joined us, bouncing loosely to the beat.

The alcohol flowed into me, heady and light, loosening my limbs. I rubbed up against Stephen, and Rose rubbed up against me. I didn’t know where my feelings started and where they ended, as each stumbling bounce brought forward a myriad of feelings toward the two. Rose flung her arms around my shoulders and faced me, and I was surprised at how close she drew toward me as she danced, eyes closed, lost in the beat. After months of walking on eggshells to stay out of her direct line of sight, here was Rose, acting friendly as her lips brushed against my ear, saying something that I couldn’t understand. The vibration from her voice sent goose bumps down my arms. “What?” I shouted, and she tried again, but when I couldn’t hear her a second time, she shook her head and smiled. Stephen cut in and began to slide alongside my body, and I lost Rose in the crowd.

The alcohol was getting to me. I was confused, overwhelmed, and overheated. Without excusing myself, I lurched from the dance floor and groped my way to the restroom. Under the fluorescent lights, my skin was green. I splashed water on my face and tried to breathe deeply, swallowing the thickened saliva that comes before getting sick. The door banged behind me and a leggy brunette appeared in the mirror behind me. I had only a vague idea that she was sharing a sink with me, pulling paper towels out of the dispenser without having used a toilet.

She dabbed my forehead lightly with a dampened paper towel. “You okay?” she said.

I was able to squint to see her. “It’s you,” I said.

“You’re Cassidy, right? Do you remember me?”

I leaned forward over the sink, swallowing hard. “Mm, yeah.” The insect from the release party with the mandala tattoo.

She put a chilled hand on my arm. “I don’t know how much of this you’ll remember,” she said slowly, like she was talking to a toddler. “But I wanted to tell you not to get too close to Stephen.”

I twisted around on the sink, the ceramic jamming into my pelvis. “Possessive, much?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, almost kindly. She wadded up the damp paper towel and tossed it in the trash. “I’m just looking out for you. When we were together—”

“I can take care of myself, thanks,” I scoffed, pushing past her. “All I’m doing is dancing. I have a boyfriend!” As I walked out the bathroom door, I almost ran straight into Yumi. She grabbed my wrists.

“Shit is going down,” she whispered, worried. There seemed to be a very public argument happening in the middle of the dance floor between Grant and a tall, beautiful redhead. Yumi continued, “Marisa is giving him hell right now.”

“Oh shit,” I said, my tongue heavy in my mouth. “Is Merry okay?”

“We should probably round up the others and go.” She tugged on my hand.

“Go? It’s still early. I’m finally having fun for a change.”

She let go. “Well, I’m not. Everyone’s calling me Tasty. I’m going back to the hotel.” She began walking away.