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Music came from the porch. Somebody had brought enough food to suggest they were expecting everyone to stay for a week. A few people were already swimming, their voices carrying across the water.

I could see the house, the cars, the long open road leading back out.

My shoulders loosened.

Clayton noticed. “Better than sitting at home?” he asked, leaning close enough to be heard over the music.

“Ask me after somebody makes you stop choosing the songs.”

He smiled and bumped my shoulder with his. “You love my music.”

I did, mostly. I wasn’t going to encourage him.

Rook went to find Asa. Ruckus carried a cooler down toward the water, complaining loudly about being exploited while refusing to let anyone else take it.

Chief stopped near the porch steps. Within thirty seconds, people had gathered around him.

They always did.

Megan wasn’t there. I hated the amount of difference that made to my night.

A boy I recognized from school was talking to a girl beside the railing, explaining something about football and gesturing toward Chief.

“Clayton’s the quarterback,” I told her as we passed.

“Technically,” Ruckus said, setting the cooler down. “Chief quarterbacks everybody.”

Chief was close enough to hear. He didn’t dispute it.

Neither did Clayton.

Sadie leaned toward me. “Does he ever clock out?”

I looked at Chief, who was already pointing somebody away from the wet edge of the steps.

“I’ve never seen it happen.”

“Exhausting,” she said. “I barely want to supervise myself.”

I laughed again. For a little while, it was easy.

Clayton knew almost everyone.

Sadie could sit anywhere and make herself comfortable without appearing to care whether anybody wanted her there. I envied that. I always knew where I stood in a group, who was watching, who had seen the list, who might be waiting for me to say something they could repeat.

She accepted a plate of food and sat beside me on the low porch steps.

I ate. I listened. I even managed to follow most of a conversation without looking for Declan.

Most of it. He had moved down to the water with a few of the guys. He was wearing a dark T-shirt and worn jeans, the sleeves rolled high on his arms.

Every once in a while, his head turned. Sometimes he was looking at me.

Usually, by the time I looked back, he wasn’t.

I refused to build anything out of it.

That was the plan, anyway.