“Well,” Cyrus says casually, locking eyes with me, “if you’re ever searching for shampoo, we know just the place.” Laughter springs out of me before I have time to stifle it. It’s my real laugh—an embarrassingly loud, honking sound that would be put to better use as a fire alarm. I clamp my mouth shut, my skin heating at the slip in my composure, but Cyrus is grinning at me. “Uh, what?” Oliver asks, looking lost. “Ignore him,” I say, but I’m talking more to myself. Ignore Cyrus, don’t trust him, don’t let yourself laugh at his remarks. Only one person is going to get their heart broken at the
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the joke is giving me and abe HELLO
