Chapter 1

For spring break, our little group of five had planned a trip to Cancún together.

At the airport, their luggage was overweight, so one by one they stuffed their things into my suitcase.

"Yours is practically empty, Sutton. Just squeeze a few more in."

When it was my turn at the counter, I ended up paying almost two hundred dollars in excess baggage fees.

That night at a beach club on the strip, there were only four stools at our high-top, so they made me stand to eat the shrimp cocktail.

"You never work out anyway. A little standing is good for you."

I couldn't hold the glass steady. The whole thing went flying — straight into my face.

By the time I came back from the restroom, they'd already ordered an Uber and left.

I dragged myself back to the Airbnb close to midnight.

I'd barely reached the lobby when I spotted the four of them, all dressed up like they were going somewhere else.

My boyfriend, Reid, ruffled my hair. "Come on, babe. Where we're going isn't really the kind of place for girls."

My brother, Trevor, pulled me into my room. "Just stay put. Don't wander off."

Our childhood friend, Caleb, stood off to the side, smirking like he was in on some joke I wasn't.

I pointed at my best friend, Sadie. "Isn't she a girl?"

Sadie blinked.

Reid jumped in immediately.

"She's basically one of the guys."

"You're my girlfriend. It's different."

I had nothing to say to that.

Half an hour later, Sadie posted an Instagram story.

Turned out they'd gone to some bougie club doing bottle service.

In the video, Sadie had thrown herself at Reid, legs locked around his waist on the VIP couch.

From off-camera, my brother and Caleb were chanting: "Kiss her! Kiss her!"

And Reid — Reid actually lowered his head and kissed her.

The caption said:

Turns out ditching a certain someone really does make the party better. 🍾

What they didn't know — what she had absolutely known when she posted it — was that she'd added me to her Close Friends list weeks ago.

Only I could see it.

I booked a flight home.

If the four of them had more fun without me, then fine — I wouldn't crash it.

Thirty-six hours until my flight.

Thirty-six hours until I was free of them.

I just had to survive one more day.

...

At one-thirty in the morning, Sadie came stumbling in, half-draped over Reid's shoulder.

She was wearing the new Birkenstocks my brother had just bought her, and Caleb's hoodie thrown over her shoulders.

Her cheeks were flushed, her laugh loose and loud.

When she saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, she waved a wristband from the club in my face.

"Mouse — you're still up?"

My name is Sutton.

Not Mouse.

I don't even remember when Sadie started with the Mouse thing.

I'd never liked it — like someone born to scurry into corners and keep quiet. I'd pushed back a few times, but the response was always, Oh, come on, Sadie doesn't mean anything by it. Eventually I stopped bothering to explain.

Reid walked straight in and started rifling through my bag.

"Sadie's heel is blistered. Where are your Band-Aids? Clean it up and cover it for her. She doesn't handle pain well."

My knee was still bleeding.

The strip had been packed. After I'd washed up, I'd rushed to catch up with them and gotten knocked straight to the pavement by some drunk tourist.

I looked up at him. "What about me?"

Reid paused, then came over smiling and pinched my cheek.

"We're guys, you know. Just help her first. I'll fix you up after."

I didn't understand. When they all went out together, she was "one of the guys." Now suddenly it was men and women are different.

But the words died in my throat.

It had always been like this. When we were kids, I'd wiped out on my bike in the driveway and torn up my whole knee.

My brother had taken one look and said, "That's what you get for riding so fast. Maybe you'll learn."

But the next second, Sadie had jumped off the low garden wall and scraped a strip of skin off her hand — and all three of them had rushed over.

She'd even laughed and waved them off. "I'm not some princess. It's fine."

But my brother had still taken the Band-Aids out of my backpack to patch her up.

Caleb had blown on her scrape, laughing. "Don't act like you're not a girl."

Reid had handed her the popsicle he'd originally bought for me and said, "Have something sweet. You'll feel better."

I'd stood there, knee trembling with pain, and still had to hear my brother call back, "Sutton, what are you standing around for? Grab some paper towels — Sadie's legs are covered in dust."

It wasn't until today that I finally understood.

She was one of the guys and their little princess.

And I was just the one who wasn't allowed to hurt, wasn't allowed to cry, and had to hand over the paper towels.

I turned away.

"I'm not bandaging her."

The room went quiet for a second.

Sadie pulled her foot back, her smile stiffening.

"I'll do it myself. Mouse, what's with you?"

Reid's hands froze — as if he'd only just remembered something — and he turned to look at me.

"Is this because we didn't take you?"

He let out a soft laugh and reached to ruffle my hair.

"Come on, babe. You really couldn't have come. It was a crazy scene."

Then he pulled out my white first-aid pouch.

Inside: antiseptic wipes, gauze, Band-Aids, and the EpiPen I'd carried everywhere since I was ten — severe peanut allergy.

I reached for it.

"Give it to me."

Reid had already turned toward Sadie.

"Okay, okay — if you won't do it, I will. Happy?"

I watched him follow Sadie into the other room, and my throat closed up.

He never came back that night to clean my wound.

I pressed my phone face-down into my palm.

On the screen, my return flight read:

Thirty-six hours to departure.