Dove
"Okay, let's make a compromise then," Molly said, lifting both hands like she was calling a truce. "We throw the party at my place. It's got space, and we can make the backyard the main area. Beach walking trail's right there too. Imagine it at golden hour."
Stella's eyes lit up. "We could really play into it. Fire pits, s'mores, getting a little drunk around the fire and praying no one face-plants into the sand." She grinned. "I'm never into parties, but this one feels right. Our last hurrah in Miami before we all pack up for Manhattan."
The word landed heavy for half a second. Miami sunsets, late nights, us. All of it ending soon.
Molly didn't miss the opening. She turned to Rodney, voice all sugar. "You can invite Miley."
Rodney's jaw ticked like he was pretending it didn't matter. We all knew better. The mention of his girlfriend was the kill shot.
We didn't say anything. We just stared.
Three pairs of eyes. Zero blinking.
