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“Because it’ssomuch more sophisticated,” she mocked, lifting her nose as if I were all hoity-toity now that I didn’t want to go by the nickname she and the captain had called me since I was in diapers.
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and spread my arms wide. “So? Fit check.”
“Yes,queen,” Kinsey praised, nodding her head in appreciation as she scanned my outfit before she twirled her finger, prompting me to spin in a circle, which I did. “You look good enough to hook yourself the star quarterback of the football team, that’s how you look.” Then she leaned in closer and added, “I knew you were gonna choose the peach, though.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Unconcerned, I searched my bed for my phone. “I’m boring and predictable, yada, yada. I’m going to call for a rideshare now.”
“Yay!” She clapped excitedly. “So we’re really doing this? You’re not chickening out?”
“We aredoingthis,” I confirmed, finding my phone.
After logging into my app, I started to search for the closest, most affordable car.
“In that case, I’m pouring us a drink for the road. I want you pleasantlylooseby the time we get there.”
I nodded. “That actually sounds like a good idea. Thank you.” Because at the moment, I was anythingbutloose.
Kinsey had been in town for three days now, visiting me at college, and it had taken her that long to talk me into attending this party.
My friend, Oaklynn, had invited us on Tuesday—the very morning after our football team had won the national championships for the second year in a row. Her boyfriend was best friends with Foster Union, the team’s quarterback, and they wanted to throw him a big celebration party this weekend before spring classes started back next week.
But I hadn’t planned on going. Oaklynn knew I was a bit obsessed with anything to do with Foster, so she’d tried to get him to meet me, only to report back that he was resisting the idea, claiming that setups and blind dates werenothis thing. So if I went now, I’d look all lame and needy, chasing after a guy who was clearlynotinterested.
Except Kinsey hadn’t stopped bugging me about the bash until I’d finally thrown up my hands and cried, “Fine. We’ll go.”
“Right on!” she’d cheered. “And if for some reason your boy asks, we’re there to see yourgirlfriends, not some loser football player who has no idea how desperately he needs to meet the most perfect girl ever.”
“He’snota loser,” I’d defended, scowling over the insult, although, in all honesty, he could be. I’d never actually met him. I’d only seen him from afar: out on the field, or across the quad on campus, sometimes on television, being interviewed, anda loton social media because I basically cyber stalked him.
But as far as I knew, the guy could be a total dick.
I didn’t think that was the case, though. Oaklynn called him a sweetheart, and I’d heard rumors that he was super nice. Plus, his smile was just too engaging and genuine looking. Then there were all the things he volunteered to do, like visit grief centers, join toy drives, and help impoverished children. He justhadto be a good guy.
Meeting him in person would be an absolute dream come true.
“Well, fine, then,” Kinsey had told me. “Ourperfectfair hero is going to take one look at you from across the room and fall madly in love. The end.”
I’d winced. “Or he’ll seeyoustanding next to me and immediately pursue you, is more like it,” I’d grumbled.
Because that’s how it usually worked. My sister simply exuded sex. It was something in the way she moved and tilted her face and smiled that flirty, wicked grin of hers. She was always the life of the party. I loved her for it; it made me proud to be her little sister. But yeah… Foster was going to notice herwaybefore he realizedIeven existed.
“No way,” she’d promised. “Because we’re going to spend all of Saturday afternoon jazzing you up, and I’m just going to throw on the first wrinkled, gross thing I pull out of my luggage.”
Except the first wrinkled, gross thing she’d pulled from her luggage was ten times skimpier and more seductive than the notched-neck beach romper I had with a full black tank for the top and black, pink, and cream striped shorts for the bottom, tied off with a matching belt.
I shook my head sadly at her jean skirt, platforms, and cleavage-exposing blouse as she pranced back into my room with two shot glasses.
“Bottoms up,” she sang, handing me one as I finished our order for a ride. “This shit is a hundred proof, so we shouldn’t need many.”
“Fireball?” I asked when I took a glass from her and smelled cinnamon.
Kinsey shook her head. “Hot Damn!” she answered as she clinked her tiny glass against mine and tossed back the whole thing.
I shook my head at her vigor then tried to mimic the move by gulping my liqueur as well, only for fire to burn the insides of my esophagus.
“Holy shit,” I wheezed before coughing and waving a hand in front of my watering eyes. “Whew. Well, I’m definitely going to have nice cinnamon breath for the rest of my life.”
“Hell, yeah,” Kinsey cheered as she poured us more.
