jackie’s bathroom smells like peach body spray and cheap wine. you sit on the counter, swinging your legs, trying to draw hearts in the foggy mirror. lottie’s digging through a drawer of jackies things like she lives here, pulling out random things—nail polish, a dog brush, a glittery headband. shauna’s curled up on the fuzzy bathmat, holding a bag of gummy bears she so tragically pocketed from the snack table.

“this is basically a spa,” you say, poking a dot of foam from the sink onto shauna’s head. “a very sketchy, very loud spa,” lottie adds, tossing the headband at you, and you catch it, immediately wearing it like a crown.

shauna throws a gummy bear at the back of lotties head; making lottie gasp as it hits lotties well styled hair. “you two are ridiculous.” “you love it,” you grin back.

outside the door, the sleepovers music rages—bass shaking the floor, someone yelling about truth or dare. but in here, it’s just them, lit by the buzz of the vanity lights and laughter that doesn’t need a reason.

“we should start our own party,” lottie says. “we already did,” shauna replies, smiling without meaning to.

and just like that, the bathroom becomes the best part of the night.