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discomfort. Emery didn’t know how to take Miriam. Most boys didn’t.
    “Anytime.” She winked a sparkling cobalt-blue eye and gave her silky black curls a calculated shake.
    Emery laughed, not knowing what else to do. Miriam laughed, too, delighting in the knowledge that she had made the boy she was enamored with feel awkward. Miriam was a complex creature.
    “Let’s eat,” Carli suggested cheerfully, shoving me toward the island. “Birthday girl first.”
    I noticed a free chair next to Jared at the table and didn’t protest. I slapped a slice of pepperoni pizza onto a paper plate and got a spoonful of salad, then hustled to the vacant chair next to Jared like someone was racing me.
    “Hi,” I greeted everyone as I sat down. Whipping my head to Jared, I flashed a big smile, startling him. “How was laser tag?” I blurted, two decibels too loud.
    Before he had a chance to answer, Bobby said, “Real fun—for Jared and Em. They dominated! Totally shamed me with all the points they scored off me.”
    “You wore white,” Jared pointed out with a shrug.
    “The little girl scored off you, Bobby,” Ben teased.
    With mocha-colored skin, happy amber eyes, and an infectious smile, twenty-three-year-old Ben was one of my most favorite people in the world. “Your arms glowed, dude, like targets.” He shook his head and laughed. The movement brought his corkscrew hair to life. “Black, Bobby— always wear black.” Which every male at the table was wearing, with the exception of Bobby, of course. Even Emery’s dad wore a black knit shirt.
    Black suits him , I decided, shifting my gaze to Serena on his right. I blinked as if I was hallucinating. Curled hair, floral dress, blush, and lipstick, Serena was—“Beautiful. Serena, you’re gorgeous!”
    She and Mom stopped talking. Serena stared at me as if I spoke an alien language, while Mom raised her eyebrows in disapproval.
    “I mean, Mrs. Phillips,” I quickly amended. My mom didn’t know Serena and I were on a first-name basis. “You look so beautiful tonight.”
    “Oh, you do, Mrs. Phillips,” Miriam quickly agreed. Carli and Bren complimented her, too.
    “Thank you,” Serena said, more baffled than embarrassed.
    “When is she not?” Mr. Phillips chimed in, dreamy eyes drinking in his wife. Leaning in, he nuzzled her neck.
    Miriam dug her nails into my forearm, ogling. I bobbed my head in silent agreement. Their chemistry was almost palpable.
    “Break it up,” Emery joked, plopping his plate on the table. He squeezed a chair between his parents. “What will the neighbors say?”
    Miriam pouted.
    “Party pooper.” Mr. Phillips sported a devilish grin as he entwined his fingers and stretched his arms over his head.
    Miriam’s nails dug into my forearm again. Together we watched Mr. Phillips’s short sleeves ride up ripped biceps, revealing a tattoo on his upper left arm.
    “Gavin,” Ben said, noticing the tattoo, “you’re a SEAL.”
    Nate stopped talking to his friends. His eyes shot to Mr. Phillips.
    Bringing his arms down, Mr. Phillips looked at the tattoo thoughtfully. It was an eagle with one talon wrapped around an anchor and the other clutching a pistol.
    “I was, another lifetime ago,” he replied, running a hand over the tattoo. “This isn’t government issue. Goes without saying, having a SEAL’s trident on your arm is risky, personally and to a combat mission.” He smiled wryly at the tattoo, as if reliving a memory. “This is the result of a night of stupidity and too much tequila.”
    My jaw dropped. Tequila and stupidity were not things usually discussed at our dinner table.
    “No way!” Nate exclaimed. “You were Special Forces?”
    “Special Forces!” Chazz cheered, having no idea what Special Forces was.
    From this point on, the boys and my friends fired questions at Mr. Phillips, who barely had time to answer before the next question was blurted at him. I noted that Jared didn’t ask any, though. He concentrated