Zara's POV
By the time the room had gotten louder and warmer and the dancing had gotten less self-conscious — mine included — I was purely and simply in the moment. Just the music and the movement and Bri next to me laughing at something and the pleasant warm looseness of being slightly tipsy at a party on a Thursday night in January when you had been carrying something heavy all day and had finally, for a little while, put it down.
Bri pulled out her phone.
“We need to document this,” she said, holding it up like she was about to conduct an important interview. “The people demand evidence that we are, in fact, hot and having fun.”
She made three videos in a row — pointing the camera at the crowd, then at herself doing something ridiculous with her shoulders, then grabbing my arm and p
