Anna's POV
The bass from inside the house pulsed through the front lawn like a second heartbeat, low and insistent, vibrating up through the soles of my shoes. Strings of mismatched fairy lights looped around the porch railings, and someone had propped the front door open with a cooler, letting laughter spill out into the night. Courtney and I hovered near the steps, undecided between going in or lingering where the air was cooler and the conversations easier to escape.
“That song is older than us,” Courtney said, wrinkling her nose as she leaned back against the fence. “If they play it again, I’m staging a protest.”
I laughed. “You say that about every song.”
“And I stand by it.”
Someone said my name then, clear and startled, like they hadn’t expected to find me here, of all places.
