"Okay," Gemma said. "You're an actual genius."

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by wine bottles and packets of shiny rose-gold glitter. About three-quarters of the bottles had a ribbon and packet attached to them. Sophia watched, amused, as Gemma cut a piece of ribbon.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I would," Gemma said firmly.

"It's just a referral scheme." Sophia secured a glimmering packet to a wine bottle. "Standard marketing fare."

"But the glitter?" Gemma shook her head. "That was genius."

Sophia smiled. They'd had many ideas for the Blush New Year's campaign — a pop-up event, a virtual drink-along, paid Instagram advertisements — but in the end, they'd gone with a simple idea: every time a customer referred a friend to Blush and that friend bought something, they'd get $10 off their next purchase — as well as a dissolvable glitter that turned their wine rose-gold and sparkly.

Simple, but effective.

Hundreds of people had already signed up for it. And their friends had signed up for it, too; the chain continued until thousands of orders had been placed. Those people were now sharing videos of their rose-gold drinks, tagging Blush Wines.

It was things like this, Sophia reflected, that got her excited: the ideas behind the social media campaigns. And it was a good distraction, too.

Not that she was nervous about tonight.

Definitely not.

"Where's Finn?" Sophia asked casually.

"He's golfing," Gemma said. "With friends. Leo and Garrett?" At Sophia's blank look, Gemma stuck out her tongue, wrapping a ribbon around a bottle. "You'll meet them tonight. You're going to the barn dance, aren't you?"

Sophia nodded. "Finn wants to keep up appearances."

"Hmm."

Gemma had a small smile playing around her mouth. A very dangerous small smile. Sophia frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Gemma said. "It's just that for someone so smart, you can be incredibly dense sometimes. I say that lovingly."

Sophia's face grew hot. "I don't get what you mean."

"I think you do." Gemma wiped her hands on her jeans, peering at her curiously. "You like Finn, don't you?"

"He's growing on me," Sophia allowed.

"As a friend."

It wasn't a question; after all, they both knew the answer. Sophia's face was reaching tomato-like proportions. She wrapped a ribbon around the neck of a wine bottle, tying it with more force than was strictly necessary.

"What do you want me to say, Gemma?"

"Nothing," Gemma said. "You've said a lot by dodging my questions." She smirked; a very Finn-like smirk, Sophia noted with alarm. "And by buying him pajamas."

Sophia's cheeks grew even hotter. Finn's Christmas present — those custom-made pajamas with pink horses on them — had finally arrived earlier that day, and now that they were here, she had no idea how to give them to him. Was it weird that she'd ordered him pajamas? Did friends do that for one another?

Oh, god.

She was overthinking.

But she didn't know how to stop.

"I think we're done for the night." Gemma rose, stretching her arms over her head. "Do you need to go home and change?"

Sophia gestured to her outfit. "I was just going to wear this."

She'd worn what she always did to New Year's parties: a feathery black jacket, leather trousers, and a pair of stilettos. Gemma's face was the picture of horror.

"Oh, no," Gemma said, shaking her head. "Absolutely not. What size are you? Four? Six?" Her eyes flicked over Sophia. "We can't be that different."

"Why?"

"Because, silly," Gemma said, starting down the corridor, "I'm going to give you a proper outfit for a barn dance. And it won't have feathers."

Finn picked her up outside the house.

Sophia tugged at her fringed jacket. She wasn't often nervous — very rarely, in fact — but something about the sight of Finn's pick-up trick made her want to crawl into the closest bush. Then again, Sophia reflected, she'd never worn jeans, cowboy boots, and a suede jacket that looked like it was stolen off the set of Westworld. So maybe it had more to do with her outfit choice for the evening.

Or maybe she was just cold. Alberta was freezing in the winters — two-feet-of-snow-on-the-ground sort of freezing — and her thin jacket was like applying a band aid to a gunshot wound.

Finn stepped out of the truck.

"Toronto," he called. "Are you ready to—?"

He stopped dead.

Finn's face was half-caught in shadow, the other half bathed in light from the truck. Moonlight bleached his blond hair of colour. His shoulders were stiff under his black puffer jacket, and his breath hung in the air between them, a cotton-candy cloud.

"Hi," she said.

Finn swallowed. "That's Gemma's jacket."

"She leant it to me," Sophia said, and Finn's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Nothing."

She crossed her arms. "Tell me."

"It's just..." Finn shuffled his feet, rocking back and forth. "If you must know, I'm profoundly disturbed that I find my sister's jacket so attractive on you."

His voice was sheepish. A rush of amusement filled her. Amusement, and — if Sophia was completely honest with herself — relief. She stepped carefully through the snow, a smooth white blanket pockmarked like Swiss cheese.

"You know," Sophia said, "I'm profoundly disturbed that you unironically say things like profoundly disturbed."

Finn's mouth quirked. "I speak to cows all day. They're surprisingly eloquent." He held open her door. "Ready?"

She paused. "Who's going to be there?"

"Everyone."

Sophia half-turned — to ask who, exactly, that entailed — and abruptly forgot her question. Finn was standing above her, watching her with hooded eyes. The familiar scent of hay and lemon hit her, a dizzy, intoxicating scent, and her breath lodged in her throat.

They hadn't been this close in ages. Not since the barn incident, when they had spent the night wrapped up in the same blanket. But Sophia could feel the heat of his body now, could remember the shape of his body curved around her own. It wouldn't be that hard to kiss him, Sophia thought; she would only have to reach up, to twine her arms around his neck...

Finn cleared his throat.

"Right." He stepped back. "Shall we go, then?"

Sophia rubbed her arms. "Yeah. Let's go."

Mercifully, it wasn't a long ride to the barn, which was good, because Sophia spent every moment of it feeling like electrified pins were being stuck under her skin. She was painfully aware of every time Finn's hands shifted on the wheel, of every breath that he took. Finn kept his eyes fixed on the road. It was only when they pulled up outside the barn that he shut off the engine, turning to face her.

"Sophia," Finn said, "there's something I wanted to tell you." He looked like a man bracing himself for the electric chair. "I know we agreed that all of this was fake — you and I — but I've realized that I—"

Someone hammered on their window.

"Hoag!" a voice called.

They both turned.

Two faces were pressed to the glass. The first one — light brown, bespectacled — belonged to Leo, Tabby's boyfriend; the two of them had met over Christmas, and they'd grown close after joining a hockey league together. And the second face was currently in the process of breathing on the window, then drawing hearts on it.

Finn rolled his eyes. "Really, Garrett?"

The second boy grinned. "Am I not allowed to express my artistic side?" His eyes settled on her. "Ah. You must be Sophia."

Sophia inclined her head. "Nice hearts."

"She's pretty," Garrett said accusingly, his gaze flicking back to Finn. "You didn't tell us she was pretty."

"She's also smart," Finn said. "Smart enough to murder you, bury your body, and ensure that it's never found." He pushed open the truck door. "Just as a heads up."

Leo winked at her. "Finn's right. Careful around this one, Garrett."

"Noted," Garrett said, more soberly this time.

"Come on," Finn said, draping a heavy arm around Sophia's shoulder. "First round is on me."

They stepped into the barn. Stone walls were licked with blue light, and golden beads criss-crossed the wooden eaves like ethereal spider webs. In the darker half of the barn, people in party hats were dancing some sort of bizarre jig ("The Cadillac Ranch," Finn murmured into her ear. "It's a line dance."). Hay bales lined the walls.

Finn departed for the bar. Garrett and Leo immediately steered her towards a table, pausing several times to greet people.

Sophia's phone buzzed.

She glanced at it as they sat. Two missed calls from Estrella. A text from Callie Winthrope herself. Twenty-three Instagram DMs, four hundred comments, and a handful of story mentions and tags. Oh, and a book meme from Ophelia.

"Who is it?" Leo asked.

Sophia sighed. "Work."

"Now?" Garrett looked horrified. "It's a Saturday night."

Sophia shifted. "I don't really have standard work hours. I'm an..." Influencer. Sophia cringed inwardly; you never knew what sort of reaction you'd get to that word. "I work in social media. It's a full-time gig."

She glanced at the bar, searching for a way to change the subject. Finn was stumbling his way back to their table, carrying a loaded tray of drinks. He pitched sideways, sloshing some of the liquid, and she winced.

"Oh, dear," Sophia said. "Is Finn drunk already?"

Leo and Garrett exchanged a look.

"No," Leo said, "he's just panicking."

Garrett nodded. "Hardcore."

"Over what?"

The boys exchanged another look, and Sophia suddenly wished that she was telepathic. She rested her elbows on the table, her eyes narrowing.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing." Leo grinned. "I expect you'll find out soon enough."

She glanced at where Finn was now carefully navigating around a haybale, the beer pitching dangerously to the side. It would be a miracle if he made it back to them in one piece. Garrett followed her gaze.

"Yikes," Garrett said, whistling. "I haven't seen him like this since our first-year exams. He was so nervous that he vomited in a fountain beforehand."

Sophia arched an eyebrow. "You're in the same class as Finn?"

"Yup," Garrett said. "Agricultural science."

"I—what?"

Garrett gave her an odd look. "It's a type of biology. Dealing with agriculture."

"No, I know what it is," Sophia said, exasperated. "I just..." She fiddled with a ring. "Finn told me that he studies cows."

It sounded stupid now that she was saying it out loud. Garrett arched an eyebrow. Leo looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Did he?" Garrett's voice was mild. "Well, in some sense, yes. I had to cut open a cow's eyeball once." He paused. "Or maybe it was a sheep. Honestly, all eyes are starting to look the same to me now."

"He's really a scientist?"

"Top of our class," Garrett said. "Not that Finn will ever use his degree, of course. He loves riding too much."

Sophia twisted her ring, her mind reeling. How had she never probed Finn in detail about what he studied? They spent eighteen hours in a car together each week, for god's sake. More, if you counted their latte runs.

She was a terrible fake girlfriend. And incredibly self-absorbed, apparently.

Her phone buzzed again. An alarm, this time, reminding Sophia that it was time to take new content for her Instagram story. She nibbled her lip, glancing at Garrett and Leo. Would they mind?

"Go ahead," Finn said.

She glanced up. "What?"

"Take a video," Finn said. "For your story." He set the tray of drinks on the table, along with two baskets of fries and a pile of fried, cinnamon-scented doughnuts. "You know you want to."

Sophia felt an odd swell of defensiveness. "I don't always take videos." Finn's mouth quirked, and she crossed her arms. "I don't!"

"Toronto," Finn said, plopping into a chair, "when was the last time you went out and you didn't upload something to Instagram?"

"Well, it was..." Sophia pursed her lips. "I was..." Her mind went through the various possibilities. Lattes at Saoirse's café. Photoshoots with Gemma. Morning walks with Tabby. No; she'd taken content during all of it. "Oh, my god."

"It's fine," Finn said. "I don't mind."

She shook her head. "That's horrible."

"It's honestly okay." Finn frowned, his eyebrows flying up as Sophia shoved her phone into her purse. "What are you doing?"

"Putting my phone away."

"For how long?"

"I'm not sure." Sophia shrugged. "I kind of like it, though."

"What if Estrella calls?" Finn asked.

"Screw it," Sophia said. "I'm not answering. And I'm going to eat fries tonight." She plucked a salted, fried potato from the basket, shoving it into her mouth. "And these small doughnuts coated in butter and cinnamon."

"The word you're searching for," Finn said, looking amused, "is mini doughnuts."

"Yes!" Sophia jabbed a fry at him. "Exactly. I'm going to eat anything I want, and I'm not going to check my phone. I'm officially off the clock."

Finn looked at her incredulously. Sophia didn't blame him; her cheeks felt flushed, and her heart was pounding. At some point, Leo and Garrett had drifted away to speak with a group of people nearby, but Sophia had hardly noticed. She felt...

Excited?

Energized?

Possibly insane?

Whatever it was, it must have shown on her face, because Finn shook his head. "Who are you, and what have you done with Sophia Huntington?"

Sophia smiled. "Hoag?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to dance?"

Finn's mouth popped open. "But you hate country music."

"So?" Sophia held out a hand. "Well? Are you coming?"

Finn's smile was mischievous. "You have no idea what you're in for, Toronto."