Lottie's not jealous. She likes you, sure, but she’s not going to get all weird about it. Even if you did come to this party with her. Not this lame, limp-dicked loser who's wrapping his arms around you like he owns you. She crushes her empty solo cup, jaw working. God, she’s not jealous, she’s not, but—

"Hi." Lottie interrupts, flopping into your lap. "Where’ve you been?"

Ok, fine. Maybe she just wants you to herself. Is that so bad?