"Wait... wait... no, seriously, hold on a second. You're in trouble for not socializing?" I asked Rory, looking at her with disbelief as she sat across from me at our usual table at Luke's.

"Yeah, pretty much. Apparently, I need to find a group or something," she said, poking at her fries like they’d personally offended her.

"I can't believe this. Mom's in the same boat. This is too good. For once in my life, I'm actually doing better than you in something at school," I laughed, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms smugly.

Rory glared at me, but I could see the edge of a smile tugging at her lips. "It's not funny, Chrissy. Charleston said it could mess with my recommendations for college, and now I’m scrambling to fix it."

"Oh, but it’s hilarious when it’s me? I get teased all the time for being the 'dumber' sister, and I'm just supposed to laugh it off?" I shot back, my voice rising a bit.

"Hey, that's not fair. I’ve never called you dumb." Rory’s eyes softened, but there was a nervous twitch in her voice.

"When have you not? You and Mom are always joking about it. How many times have I heard her say, 'Rory’s the smart one' while I’m stuck with the 'she’ll be living in a van by the time she's 20' line? Or how about the time Mom said she could see me running some food truck by the time I hit 30? Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?"

Rory winced. "Okay, okay, maybe we joke around, but it's just that—you know, jokes."

"I mean, come on, don't even get me started on Grandma and Grandpa. Every time we have dinner together, they pick apart everything about me, especially my grades. Like, who gave them my report card? I'm pretty sure they expect me to be perfect, and it's exhausting."

"No one is perfect," Rory said quickly, a defensive edge to her voice.

"They see you as perfect, Rory. Good grades, perfect face, all of it," I shot back, frustrated.

"They just want you to focus on school more," she said, her voice softening a bit as she avoided my gaze.

"You don’t think I do? I’ve been busting my ass just trying to pass. That’s a miracle in itself," I snapped, feeling the weight of everything pile on. "I don’t care about going to an Ivy League school. I never even wanted to go to Chilton in the first place."

"Okay, okay, let’s dial it down," Luke’s voice cut through, and I looked up to see him placing a to-go coffee in front of me. "You two can argue later, but right now, take a breather."

I took a deep breath, glaring at my sister, though part of me appreciated the interruption. "Fine," I muttered, reaching for the coffee, trying to calm down.

I grabbed the coffee, threw my bag over my shoulder, and stood up, heading toward the door.

"Hey, Chrissy! Long time no see!" a voice called out from across the street. I looked up and saw Shayne, standing next to a guy in a denim jacket.

I made my way across the road, giving her a quick wave. "Sup. Where have you been?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Where have I been? Where have you been?" she shot back with a grin, slinging an arm casually over my shoulders. "I need the latest updates on my bestie."

The guy just stood there, hands in his pockets, eyeing me curiously but saying nothing.

I glanced at him and then back at Shayne. "And your other friend?" I asked, giving the guy a once-over.

"Oh, right! Jess, this is Chrissy. Chrissy, meet Jess—Luke's nephew," Shayne introduced, gesturing between us.

"Luke has a nephew?" I asked, surprised.

"Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either," Jess muttered, a wry smile playing on his lips.

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Shayne and I were lying on her bed. She’d easily convinced my mom to let me stay over, mentioning something about Rory and some hazing thing.

"So, how's the boy?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Boy?" I blinked.

"Daniel?" she clarified.

"Oh, he’s a total jerk."

"What happened?"

"He took me to this party. We had a few drinks. Then we played Truth or Dare... and somehow I ended up in a lake. And of course, everyone else was gone, and my clothes were too."

"That's awful!" she said, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, it was," I sighed.

"So, how did you get home?"

"A friend helped me out."

"A friend? A guy?"

"Maybe."

"What's his name?"

"Tristan."

"Ooh, on a scale of 1 to 10, how cute is he?"

"An 8."

"Why only an 8?"

"He was kind of rude at first."

"Ah, got it. Makes sense."

"So, what about you and Jess?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I really hope so. He’s so cute." Shayne smiled dreamily.