She shakes her head quickly. “Nonono,” she slurs together. “I studied, Connor. The normal, natural way like you taught me.”

“And Sebastian clearly helped,” Rose adds.

Connor shakes his head. “No…something’s not right.”

Rose pokes his arm. “You can’t admit that you’re wrong. That’s the problem.”

“I know when I’m wrong, Rose, and I don’t think I am here.”

“How many times have you even talked to Sebastian?”

“A couple,” Connor says. “He runs out the door the minute I walk in, and he barely looks me in the eye. Only liars and cheaters can’t meet my gaze.”

Lily sinks deeper into her seat.

“Lily didn’t cheat,” Rose snaps back, her glare darkening.

I chime in, afraid that we’ve suddenly fissured their relationship, “Lily isn’t as stupid as you think. Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Connor says. “I spent months tutoring Lily, and she never did better than a C.”

“Maybe I’m just good at Statistics,” Lily shrugs.

“You bombed your first two exams.”

Rose raises her hand to cut in like we’re in class. “Or maybe,” she says, slinging her cold voice back at Connor, “Sebastian is just a better tutor than you.”

Connor cocks his head at her like she’s being foolish. “No, that can’t be it.”

She lets out an exasperated growl. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me,” he says matter-of-factly.

She gapes. “I never said such a stupid thing.” That’s her go-to response. But she has turned bright pink.

Connor raises his brows at her and then pins his attention back on Lily. “Did you cheat?”

Oh shit.

Instead of interrupting, Rose waits for Lily to answer this time. Lily needs to stay strong here. Even if we’re inadvertently siding with Sebastian rather than Connor, those tests are important for her future at Princeton. We spent years lying to people about our addictions. We’re fucking good at it, but I remember all the times where I had to calm her down, to placate her anxiety about fibbing in front of Rose and her parents. Lying eats her up inside more than it does me.

Lily clutches my hand tightly, and with a steady voice, she says, “I’m being honest, Connor. No cheating, no drugs, no nothing.” She nods to herself. “Things have changed. I’m just more focused now.” Her tone is sincere, something hard to reject.

I put my arm around her shoulder and watch Connor go quiet. But he doesn’t look a hundred percent satisfied. I’d say he’s at least forty percent, which is good enough for now.

Before he says something more, Rose smacks Connor on the arm, and the two begin arguing in French. I can’t make out any of it, but I’m sure they’re flinging curse words.

Lily cringes, watching Rose’s eyes puncture holes into Connor, her words sounding nasty. And he’s quick to retort back. Lil leans into my side and whispers, “I don’t like lying to her.”

I squeeze her arm. “We’ll make it right.” Eventually.

And then the cab hits a pothole and my stomach starts to twist in on itself, sending a shooting pain right through me. I touch my abdomen as it intensifies. I retract my arm from Lily and grip the door handle of the cab. What the fuck is happening?

“Lo?”

I open my mouth to speak, but a wave of nausea crashes into me.

“Lo?!” Her high-pitched voice quiets the car.

“Pull over,” I hear my brother say. “Pull over now!” My head is a blur. I plant my hand over my lips, and as soon as the cab stops and the door flings open, I am on the road retching. My throat sears and my muscles burn.

Everything starts coming up. But for each heave, my head pounds, my body aches, and I think some animal wants to crawl out of my stomach. It claws and scrapes and tears up my insides.

“Did he drink?” Rose’s cold voice pricks my ears in the background.

“What the fuck did you drink?!” Ryke yells at me, his voice louder.

I shake my head and puke again, cars whizzing by and honking their horns like I’m another drunken college student on Spring Break. But I didn’t have one fucking beer. Not even a drop of whiskey. I don’t understand. I don’t get it. I did nothing wrong.

Lil clutches my arm, and I briefly meet her eyes, and the flood of disappointment feels worse than this pain.

I did nothing wrong.

But I don’t have the voice to say it.

I’m too busy throwing up.

I spend the entire night with Lo in the hotel bathroom, wiping his clammy forehead with a warm washcloth and making sure he isn’t sick enough for a hospital.

I think we all overacted in the cab. But it was clear that his illness wasn’t from food poisoning. He literally just took a bite of his fish taco. Food poisoning doesn’t work that fast. So we all figured Antabuse was to blame—which meant one thing.

He had alcohol.

Ryke yelled at Lo while he puked his guts up on the side of the road, but I didn’t believe that Lo could have been secretly tossing back whiskey shots or some other concoction. Not when we were all sitting at the table. He’s not that stupid.

But there was an inkling of doubt creeping in. The what if taking over my mental process. Addicts lie. I just never thought Lo would start lying to me too. We have been a unit for so long that I didn’t realize I could be pushed out so easily—and without warning. I wondered, for a short moment, that if he could lie all this time about being sober, then he could be keeping other secrets from me. And I wouldn’t even know it.

Connor was the one to shush everyone’s doubts, including mine. He said there was a high probability that the fish was beer-battered, a detail that Lo may have overlooked before ordering. So Rose called the restaurant, and sure enough, the fish were not only fried with beer but tequila too.

Lo moves sloth-like this morning, brushing his teeth, practically hunched over the sink. He looks a little like he used to before his sobriety—like he just woke up after a night of binging.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly. “We can stay here if you want.”

A stage is set up on the beach for an outdoor Spring Break concert, and we’re all supposed to be headed down there soon. I can’t imagine the chaos and noise being pleasant for him.

While I wait for his answer, I start the bathtub to shave my legs, normally I’d just do a quick shave-and-go in the sink, but we share it with five other people.

He spits into the sink. “No,” he says and wipes his mouth on a towel. “I want to go, and honestly I feel better than I did last night.”

The bathroom door opens, and Ryke slips in, already outfitted in a neon blue mankini. Lo confessed about the bathing suits a couple days ago, and oddly Ryke would rather wear the scantily clad ones than the trunks that Connor and Lo chose. He claims he gets a better tan, but I think he likes the way all the girls stare at his ass.

I grab a razor, focusing on my prickly calves rather than his…area.

“How are you feeling?” Ryke asks as Lo starts applying sunscreen along his abs.

“Like shit. Must have been that bottle of whiskey I guzzled while you were all sitting around me,” he snaps. “Oh wait, no, that’s what you accused me of.”

“I already apologized.” His voice remains rough and he looks to me, distracted. “Lily, what the hell are you doing?”

Lo follows his gaze and rolls his eyes. “She’s just shaving her legs.”

“What he said,” I say, trying to concentrate so I don’t knick my kneecap or ankle. Those are the tricky spots. And since I’m only lathering my legs with a bar of soap, I have less suds to work with.

“Why don’t you take a shower?”

I let out an exasperated breath. “That’s so much more work.”

“You’re as lazy as Lo.”

I shrug, not denying it. Ryke puts his attention back on his brother. “Did you take your pill yet?”

“Yeah.” He holds out the sunscreen bottle to me. “Can you do my back when you’re finished shaving?”