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I’ll give you a call—next time I need tutoring in like differential calculus .”
    Alexa felt Taylor’s eyes on her.
    “Hey, what’s wrong, kid? You’ve been acting all depressed since you got here.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “You think maybe you need to change meds or something?”
    Alexa shook her head. “Dad’s just, I don’t know, being all weird.”
    “Nothing new about that.”
    “But like he’s all paranoid all of a sudden? He just had these surveillance cameras put in, all around the house?”
    “Well, he is like the richest guy in Boston. Or one of the richest—”
    “I know, I know,” Alexa interrupted, not wanting to hear it. She’d spent her entire life dealing with being a rich kid: having to play down the money so her friends didn’t feel jealous. “But it’s not his normal control-freak mode, you know? It’s more like he’s scared something’s going to happen.”
    “Try living with a father who’s a friggin’ United States senator.”
    Taylor had started to look uncomfortable. She rolled her eyes, shook her head dismissively, looked around the now-crowded bar. “I need another drink,” she said. She called the waitress over and asked for a dirty martini. “How about you?” she asked Alexa.
    “I’m good.” The truth was, she hated hard liquor, especially vodka. And gin was the worst. How could anyone voluntarily drink that stuff? It was like chugging turpentine.
    Alexa’s iPhone vibrated, so she took it out and read the text. A friend at some rager in Allston, telling her it was epic and she should come over. Alexa texted back sorry. Then, abruptly, she said, “Oh my God, oh my God, did I ever show you this?” She flicked through her iPhone applications until she came to one she’d just downloaded, launched it, held the iPhone to her mouth. When she talked into it, her words came out high pitched and weird, like one of the Chipmunks: “Hey, babe, wanna come back to my dorm and take off our clothes and do some algebra?”
    Taylor squealed. “What is that?” She tried to grab the phone, but Alexa yanked it away, swiped the screen and started speaking in the creepy voice of Gollum from The Lord of the Rings : “Must have preciousssss!”
    Taylor shrieked, and they both laughed so hard that tears came to their eyes. “See—you’re feeling better already, right?” said Taylor.
    “May I join you?” A male voice.
    Alexa looked up, saw a guy standing there. Not one of the frat boys, though. De nitely not. This one had dark hair and brown eyes, a day’s growth of beard, and he was totally a babe. Black shirt with white pinstripes, narrow waist, broad shoulders.
    Alexa smiled, blushed—she couldn’t help it—and looked at Taylor.
    “Do we know you?” Taylor said.
    “Not yet,” the guy said, flashing a dazzling smile. Late twenties, early thirties, maybe? Hard to tell. “My friends ditched me. They went to a party in the South End I don’t feel like going to.” He had some kind of Spanish accent.
    “There’s only two chairs,” Taylor said.
    He said something to a couple seated next to them, slid a vacant chair over. Extended a hand to shake Taylor’s, then Alexa’s.
    “I’m Lorenzo,” he said.

2
    The bathroom had Molton Brown hand soap (Thai Vert) and real towels, folded into perfect squares. Alexa reapplied her lip gloss while Taylor touched up her eyes.
    “He’s totally into you,” Taylor said.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Like you don’t know it.” Taylor was outlining her eyes with a kohl pencil.
    “How old do you think he is?”
    “I don’t know, thirties?”
    “ Thirties? I thought maybe thirty at the oldest. Do you think he knows we’re only…” but another couple of girls entered the bathroom, and she let her sentence trail off.
    “Go for it,” Taylor said. “It’s totally cool. I promise.”

    When they finally succeeded in elbowing their way back to their chairs, the Black Eyed Peas blasting so loud her ears hurt, Alexa