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to go with it and see what happens.”
    Drew beams like he’s a proud father at a championship game. He’s still not buying the “casual” part. Carlos nods rhythmically, an impressed smile crossing his face, and Justin tugs on his ear, his expression a weird mix of confusion and anger. But it’s clear they all buy the story. I lean my back against the wall and exhale.
    Carlos leans over and punches my shoulder. “Never would’ve guessed Aly was a closet Casual , but hey, what do I know?”
    “Yeah, if you know what you’re getting yourself into, that’s great.” Justin gives me a thin-lipped smile. “Aly’s awesome.”
    “I know.” It’s the first truthful thing I’ve said all day.
    Justin stands and heads for the door. “I’m gonna go check this place out. I’ll catch y’all later, all right?” He pushes open the door without looking back, and Drew raises his eyebrows. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Justin was jealous.
    Fine, let him be. But he’s not going anywhere near Aly when this experiment is over.
    I check my watch, wondering if she’s here yet. If my friends are any indication, this week is going to be interesting.

    ALY
KARA’S DEATH MOBILE, 2:15 p.m .

    Riding in Kara’s car is a little like playing Russian roulette. You know it’s a matter of when—not if—an accident will occur, but you’re betting on it not being today. Or on your side of the vehicle.
    My head rattles against the passenger-side window as Kara screeches across three lanes of traffic. From the backseat, Gabi screams over the music, “Spill it, girl!”
    By the time Kara picked me up, after taking forever to pack her five color-coordinated pieces of luggage, we were already running late. But my friends didn’t care. They demanded details. The only way to get Kara driving was by promising to tell all once we got on the road.
    “Don’t even tell us he didn’t notice the makeover,” Kara says, accelerating through a yellow light. “He’s a guy with two functioning eyeballs. He noticed.”
    “No, you’re right,” I say, gnawing on my lip. “He did.”
    Brandon noticed the second he walked through my bedroom door, but not in the way Kara thinks. The big-brother vibe radiated off him all night, and I’m sure his protective Superman persona was the only reason he agreed to our fake hookup.
    But hey, at least he went for it.
    Gabi presses her face between our headrests and grins. “So did his tongue hang out? Did he go all googley-eyed? Spill it, girl, because if you don’t, you know I’ll just call Brandon.”
    The scary thing is I don’t doubt that for a second. I twist in my seat, unable to look at either of them as I tell the lie. I went back and forth all night on if I should tell them the truth. Brandon said it was my call. But I just can’t. Gabi and Kara were cool about my makeover, but pretending a hookup to get guys to notice me sounds like a teen movie gone bad.
    “Actually,” I say, focusing intently on the road ahead, “he asked me out.”
    Kara stomps on her brake twenty feet before the stop sign. “I freaking knew it! Didn’t I tell you? Guys and girls can’t be friends. The sex part always gets in the way.”
    When Harry Met Sally logic aside, a shiver rolls down my spine at the image those words put in my mind. I’m a proud, card-carrying virgin, but I’d be lying (and I’ve already had enough of that today) if I said I never thought about what it would be like to make out with Brandon. According to the rumor mill, he’s quite talented in that department.
    I shake my head.
    Eye on the prize, Aly. Justin, Justin, Justin .
    “Didn’t I tell you Brandon would notice?” Gabi folds her arms on the back of the seat and smirks. “I bet he figured if he didn’t scoop you up now, someone like Justin would.”
    I nearly choke on my tongue. Nodding, I dig through my empty purse, trying to hide my discomfort. I hate lying to my friends. But the alternative is the truth, and