Ariel Beckham.
“No, I didn’t!” Hannah says to Lucia, defensive but light.
“Ariel, tell her she did!” Lucia side-eyes me, trying to pull me into whatever drama they’ve got going.
“Did what?” I ask, handing a customer their change at the counter.
“Ariel wasn’t around for it. By the way, where did you go?” Hannah asks, her question more curious than accusatory. I exhale, playing it cool.
“I don’t remember.”
I’m lying. I remember exactly where I went and who I saw. The i***t who thought it was funny to slip a pill in my drink. I remember Ramirez’s hand bleeding.
“What are you guys even arguing about?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from me.
“She says I stole her onlooker,” Lucia explains, rolling her eyes. “But to be fair, I already gave him a lap dance before he even
