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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