Page 38 of Tell Me It’s Right

I roll my eyes. “No, Dad.”

“And you know not to drink and drive.”

“Leo. Who are you talking to?”

“And no boys!” he adds as I head for the door. “Definitely no boys!”

“Unless they’re really hot!” calls Keava as I slip outside.

The address Carson texted me is about an eight-minute drive from Leo’s, and my pulse skyrockets as I turn the corner and find the block lined with parked cars. It’s easy to tell which house is Carson’s from the lights, noise, and people lingering on the porch.

This is apartyparty. Not someget together.

I park a block away on the corner and stare at myself in the rearview mirror. I hadn’t thought to change out of what I’ve been wearing all day—cut-off jean shorts, a flowy halter top, and sneakers. I quickly undo my pigtail braids and let my curls spill over my shoulders, then fish around in my purse until I find some light pink lip gloss.

“Oh, this is such a bad idea,” I mutter under my breath. It’s not too late. I could start the car again and get out of here.

But then I’d have to face Leo and Keava with my walk of shame back into the house.

“Hey! Gracie!”

I jump at a knock on my window. I squint against the streetlights as a familiar face peers in at me. Liam’s brother, the one about the same age as me. Another guy stands behind Asher, but I can’t see his face.

“Hey, Asher.”

He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “You coming to this party?”

Slowly, I nod.

“Want an escort?” he offers as he opens my car door.

Now would be the time for a witty reply, but having none, I give him a tight smile, grab my purse, and climb out.

“Oh, hey,” says his companion.

“Miles, right?” I tug my purse onto my shoulder just to give me something to do with my hands. “From the shop?”

“Yeah.” He flashes a stupidly perfect grin. “You remembered.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with Luna and Raquel,” says Asher as he takes my other side and gestures for us to walk ahead.

Those must be the roommates.

“Actually, I’m friends with their roommate, Carson.”

“Oh, that’s right!”

He says every sentence so cheerfully, like he’s genuinely delighted by everything. It’s…odd. Maybe because it’s such a contrast to Liam, who’s so unreadable most of the time, given away only by the occasional eyebrow raise or smirk.

Despite him being only a year older, I haven’t spent nearly as much time around Asher—or any of the other Brookses, for that matter. They all went to private school, and to say we ran in different circles would be an understatement.

“How do you know them?” I offer.

“Ash’s been trying to convince Luna to go out with him,” Miles whispers to me conspiratorially. “She’s been running him around like a dog.”

“She’s just playing hard to get,” says Asher. “And I’ll chase her all she wants as long as she lets me catch her in the end.”

“And you’re, what? The wingman?” I ask Miles.

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