"Hi, yes, h.e.l.lo," Luke says, affecting a high, squeaky voice as he speaks into Clay's cell phone. "I'd like a large pizza. A very large pizza. The largest pizza you have. p.r.o.nto."

Mr. Manceau's agitated voice crackles through the speakerphone. "This isn't a pizza company. You have the wrong number."

"What? Oh, my good sir, I am so sorry, I seem to make this mistake frequently-if you only knew the extent of my ignorance! But hey, while I have you, could you recommend a good pizza place?"

"Goodbye," Mr. Manceau says.

"NO! Wait! I need my pizza!"

They hear the dial tone through the speaker, but before they can regroup, Luke dials the number again.

"Okay, fine, if you can't give me a large pizza, I'll just take a medium-"

"Stop calling me!" Mr. Manceau yells. "This is a personal cell phone number!"

"Then why is it listed online as the number for 'Chubby Charlie's Pizza Palace'?"

"What? Where did you see that?"

"Sorry, I've gotta go-"

"No-hold on-is this a prank call? Is my number really listed online?"

"Catch you later, Chubby Charlie."

Clay doubles over with laughter as Luke hits the red "End" b.u.t.ton on his phone. Joanie leans her head against her hand and watches Luke with a fond look in her eyes.

"Alright, I've gotta go to bed," Luke says. "I'm exhausted from Ma.s.s this morning."

"Yeah, me too," Joanie says, standing up next to him.

"Right, so the rest of us will just stay out here and pretend like you two aren't hooking up inside," Clay says.

"Thanks," Luke says, taking hold of Joanie's hand. "We appreciate it."

Clay pours another round of whiskey after Joanie and Luke go inside. He holds up his gla.s.s for a toast, and Hannah, Baker, and Wally oblige him, each of them holding up their gla.s.ses in turn. "Cheers," Wally says, nodding at Clay, and the rest of them echo the sentiment.

"Let's keep this game going," Clay says as he settles back on his chair. "I love Truth-or-Dare."

"You just like to talk about s.e.x," Hannah says.

"Yes I do," Clay says, smacking his lips together after taking a drink. "Even though it's not very fun with you all, since none of you can talk about it with me."

"Hey," Wally says, and in the dim porch lights, Hannah can see his blush. "You need to stop bringing that up."

"I'm just messing with you, man."

"Alright, Clay, I've got a Truth-or-Dare for you," Hannah says.

"Dare."

"I dare you to tell us what song was playing when you lost your virginity."

"I-" Clay falters. He shakes his whiskey gla.s.s and grins down at the patio, almost in amus.e.m.e.nt at himself. "I told you that in confidence, Han."

"And now you can tell all three of us in confidence."

"Alright, fine. So...when it happened, Michele told me to put some music on, so I just hit play on my iPhone, and the last song that had been playing was 'Colorblind' by The Counting Crows. I didn't really care what we listened to, so I just started going for it, you know, but then the song ended and replayed, and I realized I'd somehow put it on repeat."

"Are you serious?" Baker smiles.

"I'm serious."

"Why the h.e.l.l had you been listening to 'Colorblind'?" Wally asks.

"Dude, I don't know, I just was."

"So you never took a break to change the song?" Baker asks.

"I was busy," Clay says emphatically, leaning forward in his chair. "And besides, it ended up being kind of nice. Kind of, you know, emo-romantic."

Wally chuckles into his hand. "Oh, man, I can't believe you never told me that story."

"Well now you can thank Hannah for bringing it up."

"Hey, you were making fun of the three of us," Hannah says. "All I did was put it back on you."

"I'm not ashamed," Clay says, taking a long pull from his whiskey gla.s.s. "I made love beautifully that night."

"Do you have the song on your iPhone right now?" Wally asks.

"Probably."

"Play it," Hannah goads.

"No chance."

"Play it," Baker says, nudging him with her foot.

Clay fixes her with a look; her teasing smile grows bigger until Clay smiles in turn. "Fine," he says, making a show of fishing his phone out of his pocket. "But y'all are not allowed to laugh."

"Why would we laugh?" Hannah says innocently.

"Can you do a reenactment in time with the song?" Baker says.

"I don't know why I'm listening to you," Clay says as he sets his phone on the table and hits play.

Within the first three sad, somber notes, Baker starts to giggle. She holds her hand over her mouth, much like she did in church that morning, and shakes with barely-restrained laughter. Her laughter is contagious, so that Hannah starts to giggle too, and then Wally starts to outright laugh, actually slumping back in his chair and holding his stomach.

"I'm sorry," Baker gasps, seeing Clay's fake-wounded face, "it's just, like, the depressing sound of this song, and the lyrics-"

"How did you not pause it?" Hannah laughs. "What did Michele say?"

"She didn't say anything," Clay says, grabbing his phone off the table and stopping the music. "She was too busy moaning."

"Oh, G.o.d," Hannah says distastefully, at the same time that Baker says, "Okay, wow."

"Dude," Wally says, shaking his head.

"What?" Clay says. "It's true. Someday soon you'll all get laid, and then we'll be able to have a real conversation about this. But anyway, it's my turn to ask Truth-or-Dare."

"Can we veto that?" Hannah says. "I have a feeling you're going to keep mocking us."

"I'll be nice," Clay says. He shakes his whiskey gla.s.s back and forth, and they all wait.

"Baker," he says.

"I knew I shouldn't have laughed," she says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," Clay grins. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"What's the best make out you've ever had? More specifically, who was the best make out you've ever had?"

Baker freezes, her mouth falling open in surprise. Hannah's whole body tenses up and her heart speeds in her chest. She clutches her whiskey gla.s.s in both hands, telling herself to take a drink, to act nonchalant, but she feels unable to do anything other than wait for Baker's answer.

"I should probably add that you are allowed to name someone here," Clay says haughtily, raising his eyebrows.

Color floods Baker's cheeks, and Hannah realizes that Baker feels trapped by the implication, as she never told Hannah about making out with Clay.

"Come on, really?" Clay says, his shoulders slumping.

"I-" Baker says.

"d.a.m.n," Clay says, sprawling back against his chair. "Who was better than me?"

Now Baker looks absolutely shamed: her cheeks are tinged dark, and her whole expression seems to retract in on itself. She opens her mouth to answer Clay, looking as mortified as the adulterous woman who was to be stoned in the bible, but there's something else in her reluctance, too: an elusive kind of hesitation, like she's fighting inwardly against something.

"It was you," Baker says finally, with an air of shoving the words out if only to keep breathing. She makes fleeting eye contact with Clay before looking down at the patio stones, her mental attention clearly focused on something else. She taps her tongue against her front teeth, bracing to say something she doesn't want to, and then mumbles, "I hadn't told Hannah yet."

"Oh," Clay says, his eyes shifting uncomfortably from Baker to Hannah. Hannah doesn't look at him. "Sorry. I told Wally, and I just a.s.sumed you told Hannah-"

"Sorry," Baker whispers, turning her head toward Hannah. She meets Hannah's eyes for only a flickering second.

"It's cool," Hannah says.

There's a long, awkward pause, and then Clay reaches for the whiskey bottle again. "Well," he says, his voice embarra.s.singly hearty, "at least I know I was your best."

The next day, Monday, they sleep in late and don't trek down to the beach until noon. Wally and Clay convince Hannah to swim in the ocean with them, and even though Hannah feels irrationally sore at Clay, she agrees to go with them, mostly to avoid sitting awkwardly on the beach with Baker. They bob in the waves, sc.r.a.ping their toes against the mushy layer of sand that coats the bottom of the ocean, and Hannah's senses turn themselves over to everything salt.w.a.ter: salt.w.a.ter on her tongue, salt.w.a.ter in her nose, salt.w.a.ter stinging a half-healed blister on her ankle.

"I have to take a p.i.s.s," Clay says, sweeping a hand through his wet, dark hair. "I'll be back."

He swims away from them, toward an open spot in the ocean, leaving Hannah and Wally to themselves. "Is he just gonna go in the water?" Hannah asks incredulously, straining her eyes against the sunlight.

"He's been doing it all week," Wally laughs. "Luke, too."

"Please tell me you haven't been doing that."

"I'm not saying anything either way."

"Ew."

"Everyone pees in the ocean, Han."

Something moves against Hannah's calf, startling her. She looks down to the water but can't see anything past the surface. Then Wally starts to laugh in that small, shy way he has.

"It was just me," he says. "Don't worry."

Hannah extends her arm outward, to the side, and sweeps water into Wally's face. He sputters and throws his arms up to shield himself, and Hannah starts to laugh.

"It was just me," she says. "Don't worry."

"Yeah, I see that," Wally says, his mouth curved into a smile, his eyes large and bright and vividly green in the absence of his gla.s.ses.

"Yo," Clay says, swimming back toward them. "Pretty sure I just unleashed about a liter of Jack Daniels into this ocean."

"You're disgusting," Hannah tells him.

"So Han," Clay continues, as if she hadn't said anything, "now that you know about Baker and me-"

Hannah's stomach knots in on itself.

"-What do you think I should do to get with her again?"

"What?"

"Come on, I like her. And I think she likes me. Or at least it seemed that way when she was making out with me." He waggles his eyebrows.

Hannah stares at him, unable to respond, feeling his words drop through her chest and sink all the way down to her stomach.

"So?" Clay prompts. "What do you think?"

"I don't-I don't know. She hasn't talked to me about it."

"Not even last night?"

"No."