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“Ok I knew you guys were making sweet tender love but, you’re officially dating Callum Fox?!” she says.

“Sort of. We’re exclusive.”

“Callum Fox.”

“Yes.”

“Of Atlas Falling.”

“Still yes.”

“The man whose voice got me through sophomore year statistics.”

“I didn’t know you took statistics?”

“It was hell.” She glares at the wall.

Gianna is sitting on the other end of the couch with a bowl of popcorn balanced on her stomach, looking delighted.

“Hold on,” Gianna says slowly, sitting up. “The dressing room. I gave you an entire speech about Brad Donnelly.”

I wince. “Yeah. That was a lie. I’m sorry, Gia. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone yet.”

She considers this. Then she settles back against the cushions. “I forgive you.”

Sydney presses both hands to her chest. “Oh my God. You’re dating a superstar. That’s even hotter than Brad Donnelly.”

“Or it’s just more complicated.”

“All good things are complicated.”

“That’s not true,” Gianna says. “Some good things are very straightforward. Like aspirin.”

“And orgasms,” Sydney says.

Gianna pauses. “Those can actually be complicated.”

“Not if everyone is committed to the goal.”

I close my eyes. “I knew this conversation would go off on a tangent.”

Sydney drops onto the armchair, tucks one leg underneath herself, and points at me with the TV remote. “Details. Is he as good as everyone says in bed?”

I bite my lip.

Yes. Yes and more. He’s fucking amazing.

“No details.”

She scowls at me. “Beatrix Walker, you have been secretly dating a rock star in our shared home while I have been eating leftovers and swiping through men who think a fish is an acceptable profile picture. I deserve details.”

“You deserve therapy.”

“Can’t a girl have both?”

Gianna reaches over and steals one of my flashcards, reading it for some reason. “Okay, practical questions first. Are you telling people?”

“No.”