The cafeteria’s packed, noise bouncing off the walls like always. I spot Cole right away—same table, same backwards hat, same overstuffed tray. He waves me over with a fry like he’s conducting an orchestra.

“Dude,” he says as I drop my tray, “I swear this burger is made of shoe leather.”

“You’re still eating it.”

“Because I’m hungry, not because I respect myself.”

I laugh and steal one of his fries. Across the table, Mason and Lucas are deep in debate about something—probably fantasy league drama again. I tune them out and unwrap my sandwich.

Cole leans in. “You tell Hailey about Friday?”

“Yeah,” I say between bites. “She’s in.”

He grins. “Nice. You’ll like this one. Preston’s place is sick—big backyard, no nosy neighbors, decent setup for a band.”

“You act like I haven’t been to a party before.”

“Not one where the music doesn’t suck,” he says. “Trust me. Jace’s band is legit.”

“Jace?” I ask, mostly out of curiosity.

“Lead guy. Guitar, vocals, attitude problem. You’ll see.”

Hailey drops into the seat next to me like she owns the room, which she kind of does. She kisses me on the cheek and slides her smoothie onto the table.

“Hey,” she says. “What are we talking about?”

“Friday,” I say.

She nods, pulling out her phone. “Cool. I’ll wear something casual. What kind of band is it?”

“No idea,” I say. “Cole’s the expert.”

“Indie rock, kind of punk,” Cole offers. “They’re good.”

She shrugs. “As long as it’s not country.”

“Definitely not country,” Cole says.

Lunch rolls on—jokes, trash talk, bites stolen off each other’s trays. It’s just a normal day. Nothing special. Nothing weird.

Just how I like it.