And so, Stephannie didn’t treat it as one. It was definitely refreshing.

“Where is Penn?” I asked Daria as we wandered to the deck, where she began arranging drinks on a long table.

She tossed her glossy hair, her signature move. “Oh, trying on suits with his friends in New York. He’s taking the wedding thing uber seriously.” She rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Don’t you?” I panicked. One thing we could credit our parents for—they sure gave us good examples of how successful, happy marriages should look.

Daria shrugged, pouring champagne into tall, thin glasses with a precise accuracy that would make an AA counselor flinch. “I take the marriage seriously. The wedding? Not so much.”

My eyes raked over her face, searching for clues. Daria was one of the most materialistic people I knew, so hearing her say that surprised me.

She put the empty bottle of champagne on the table, popping open a new one.

“Look…” She turned to me. “When you find the one, all the other details blur together. I don’t know what I want to wear when I wed him. I don’t know what my hair is going to look like, or how many guests I want to invite, or if I want a beach wedding, or one in a fancy hotel, or to elope in Vegas. All I know is that I want to be with Penn. Every hour. Every day. Every year. And that’s enough for me. It’s more than enough. It’s everything. Don’t you feel like that about Knight?” She cocked her head.

I wasn’t so sure anymore. Our relationship was such a mess. He was torn apart by his mother’s situation and me sleeping with someone else, and I was scrambling to become normal, finally out of my parents’ nest, with banged-up wings and frayed feathers. We both had so much going on. Communicating effectively was not our strong point these days.

An hour later, the place was jam-packed. Vaughn came with a bunch of his artsy friends, skulking in the corner of the room. They looked much older and terribly worldly. Knight walked in with Poppy on his arm. She wore a canary yellow mini dress and a sweet smile. They were talking and laughing.

They looked happy.

Genuinely happy. I didn’t know what had happened between the day before Christmas, at the shelter, and now. But whatever it was, they seemed to have overcome it. Overcome me. Maybe I needn’t fulfill Rosie’s wish after all. Maybe Poppy would be there to pick up the pieces so I didn’t have to.

So I didn’t get to.

“Don’t look at him, and definitely don’t say hello,” Daria warned fiercely when she saw me looking.

I cradled my glass of champagne and glared at the wall. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t one to play games. Then again, Daria was now blissfully engaged to a guy who’d once made a promise to ruin her life and hated her guts but now adored the ground her fancy heels walked upon. I was morbidly single. She obviously had game, and I could use a few pointers.

Hours dragged. Music played. People laughed. When it became apparent that Knight and Poppy weren’t going to acknowledge us, too engrossed in their own little universe, Daria dragged me to the dance floor and convinced me to shake my butt. It was nearing midnight, and the acute sense of time running out slammed into me.

“The plan isn’t working,” I complained to Daria as she twerked against my thigh, throwing her head back and forth to “Lollipop” by Lil Wayne. I felt like a broken Cinderella. My carriage was going to turn into a pumpkin soon, only this was not a fairytale—more like a Halloween nightmare. I hated that Knight could see what I said if he wanted to. Even from across the room.

“Honey, making a guy jealous is like getting a fine ass. You have to work hard for it.” She waved me off, twirling in place and sipping on her champagne. “Act like you don’t care.”

“I do care.”

“Ugh, I know. Which is so awful, isn’t it? Guys are trash.”

We danced until my feet screamed in agony, threatening to fall off. The entire party seemed to pour itself onto the deck for the ten-second countdown welcoming the next year. Everyone stared at the dusky sky, dotted with stars, holding their drinks. I realized to my horror that, other than myself and Daria, everybody was hugging a significant other they could kiss. Jesus Christ. How had I not noticed it before? We were going to look so pathetic.

Well, maybe not Daria. Daria had a famous fiancé with NFL plans in his future and an engagement ring any girl would murder for. Yup. This sounded like a classic me problem.

I spotted Knight and Poppy standing in the far corner of the area, his head bent as she whispered into his ear. A shudder ran through my spine like an earthquake. The countdown started. I couldn’t unglue my eyes from them, even though I knew I should. That the entire point of being there was showing Knight I didn’t care.

“Ten!”

“Look at me, Luna. Not at them.” Daria snapped her fingers in front of my face.

“Nine!”

“Jesus, Saint Lu. He wants you to react this way!”

“Eight!”

“Luna.”

“Seven!”

“Luuuuuuunaaaa!”

“Six!”

“Don’t make me do something crazy.”

“Five!”

“Bitch, you’re more basic than an android.”

“Four!”

“Last warning, Rexroth.”

“Three!”

“You asked for it.”

“Two!”

“Actually, I always wanted to know…”

“One!”

I didn’t have time to catch Knight dipping his head farther down to kiss Poppy. Daria clasped my chin, tilted my head in her direction, and pressed her lips against mine as claps and shouts erupted around us, fireworks exploding in the air and in the pit of my stomach. Her soft, warm lips crashed into mine, the flavor of her watermelon lip gloss invading my mouth. I groaned, not used to the pliability of kissing a girl. Or kissing, in general. The only boys I’d ever kissed were Knight and Josh. And Vaughn, I guess, if you could count it.

God, why wasn’t I stopping this? I let Daria deepen our kiss, my eyelids dropping shut of their own accord. She felt surprisingly good, and not just physically, which I guess was expected. When her tongue slid past my lips, I knew the shouts and barks around us were because of us. We had an audience. Daria always had an audience. Only tonight, she’d decided to put me in the spotlight to make a point.

I reciprocated, tonguing her mouth, shuddering at how hot and sweet the kiss was. I realized I’d changed. I was no longer the girl who hid behind her parents, and Knight, and Vaughn. I had desires. I was real. I was whole.

With and without Knight, I was complete.

Daria had stolen the attention from Knight—my attention from Knight—and forced him to pay attention to me. A genius move, if I really thought about it. Maybe that’s why I cupped one of her cheeks as our tongues danced together, my eyes still closed, and felt both of us smiling into that kiss. A smile that spoke a thousand words we never said to each other:

Thank you for having my back.

Thank you for tonight.

Thank you for being the wonderful, crazy, ruthless you.

“All right, show’s fucking over,” a gruff voice grumbled, and I felt the fabric of my dress pulled back.

I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Knight. Daria grinned my way, arching an I-told-you eyebrow. Her lips were swollen, pink, and puffy. Her normally perfect hair a tangled, sexy mess. God. We’d full-blown made out. I could still feel my heavy-lidded eyes and my pulse dancing across my lips.