Page 2 of His to Hunt

Suddenly, there’s a squeal of excitement upstairs.

“Shana must be here,” Madison says, glancing toward the stairs.

“She’s already two drinks behind,” I remark, tilting the bottle and filling two shot glasses. “That will catch her up.”

Shana stays upstairs longer than Madison did. Her parents always act like they haven’t seen her in years when she comes home from college. I wish someone got that excited to see me. My grandmother used to, but her enthusiasm faded as she got older and time took its toll.

“Where are my bitches at?” Shana calls out as she walks downstairs.

“We’re down here!” Madison yells.

“Yep,” I mutter. “Where else would I be?”

Shana’s as excited to share her updates about college as Madison was. After we hug, I get an earful about Smyrna University, her nightmare roommate, her favorite bar, and the guy from her psychology class who apparently has abs worth writing poetry about.

Seems like there are hot guys everywhere, and I’d be dating them all if I wasn’t a loser who lives in someone else’s basement. The last time I told a guy that on our first date, he couldn’t find an excuse to bail fast enough. I’m sure his little sister is lovely. I hope she didn’t really get attacked by a mountain lion.

“We started without you, so you’re already behind,” I say, gesturing to the shots.

“I’m not doing two on my own,” she says. “You guys can join me.”

“If we join you, then you’ll be even further behind,” Madison laughs.

“Fine, I’ll have these two and then we’ll have another,” Shana says, walking to the table.

“I like that compromise,” I say, reaching for the bottle.

This is all I really want tonight. Drinks with my best friends. Just enough for the veil to slip and for it to feel like it used to when we were foolish, happy kids. Before all our lives got complicated and mine fell apart.

“Alright, Taryn. Spill the tea,” Shana says after she’s caught up. “Dating anyone new? My dad said there’s a new busboy at the restaurant who has a thing for you.”

“Shana, he’s like sixty years old!” I groan, shaking my head. “He’s not a busboy. He’s an old man who got out of prison last year. Your dad really said he’s got a thing for me?”

“Maybe he meant someone else,” she says apprehensively.

“He’s the only one who works there other than your dad, so…” I roll my eyes and pour another round. “God, Shana. Your parents must really want me gone.”

Shana’s smile falters. “Taryn, no. They don’t want you gone.”

“Your dad wants to set me up with a felon old enough to be my grandfather,” I mutter.

“Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds bad,” she sighs, her voice getting fainter. “But I’m sure he means well.”

It isn’t the first time Shana’s dad has tried to pawn me off on the nearest guy with a pulse. There was a regular who asked for my number a few times and Shana’s dad was pretty insistent that I should give him a chance. I finally gave in and it went as horribly as I imagined it would.

“No, they’d never kick you out. Besides, my mom is baking you a cake. Do you think she’d bake you a birthday cake if she wanted you to leave?” Shana asks. “Maybe my dad was confused.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter, holding up my glass.

“After this shot, you should open your presents,” Shana says, removing a wrapped box from her purse and placing it in front of me. “Mine will put you in the mood for cake. Lots of cake.”

“Open mine first,” Madison insists.

“You guys really didn’t have to bring presents,” I sigh, reaching for the gift from Madison. “You came home for my birthday weekend. That’s all I wanted.”

“We’d be terrible friends if we didn’t bring gifts,” Madison laughs. “Now open it.”

I rip the wrapping paper off and tear up when I see the gift. It’s a framed picture of us sitting in this basement when we were in high school. It was taken by Shana’s mother, if memory serves. We’re all cross-legged on the floor, looking agitated that someone has violated our sanctuary, which is what the basement felt like back then.