SUMMER
The bottle did not move.
I did not move.
Every face turned to me, waiting to see what I’d do.
"Come on, Summer." Camille's voice was bright, sweet, patient. "We're waiting."
"Camille," Maddox said. His tone had dropped half a register. "Drop it."
"Why? Are you speaking for her now?"
"Camille —"
"She can choose."
The whole booth, when she said choose, shifted by one degree. Like the word had weight. Sam exchanged a glance with Theo. Becca, beside Logan, was watching me with the laser focus.
I felt every eye on me.
Two of them — the ones I could feel without looking — were the ones I could not afford to acknowledge in this booth. Maddox, beside Camille. Logan, beside Becca. Both watching. Both waiting. Both, in completely different ways, already mine in this exact moment in
