Whitney was stunned. She stood still, looking confused. The stranger waited for a moment, and then held out her hand for the phone. 
    “Do you want to step outside for a second? Maybe I could tell you my name.” 
    Her name was Spencer. She was a third grade teacher who liked mountain biking and horror movies. She was distant friends with Whitney’s best friend Maria and lived only a few blocks away in Omaha. She said things like, “What a shame I’ve never seen you before” and “Can we hang out sometime? I’d love to see you again.” 
    More than anything, she was very high. Whitney tried to get some clarification. 
    “I just took an edible before I came here. Nothing crazy.” Spencer pulled out a joint. “Do you want to stay and dance.” The exciting thing was, Whitney did want to stay and dance. The two spared a joint and went back to the gym. 
    At first, Whitney kept worrying that every face she half-saw in the low light was Dillon. But after a few songs, she wasn’t looking at anyone but Spencer. 
    The music was relentlessly loud and fast. There were no radio hits, nothing ironic, nothing nostalgic, just booming electronic dance beats for hours and hours. They danced until they were both sweaty, sober, and buzzing. 
    When Spencer’s friends left, the designated driver had an extra seat for Whitney. The two sat in the back with Spencer’s friend Ashton. Ashton was very kind and friendly and quickly realized that the two preferred to be left alone.
    The driver offered to take Whitney home, but she decided to get out at Spencer’s place. She said that it was close enough she could walk, feigning a modesty no one was asking of her. 


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