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I swallow the lump in my throat and struggle to get my raspy breathing under control. The last thing I need is for Nicole to notice my reaction to his name, forget about my reaction to his actual person. “He already said he wants nothing to do with my quote unquote ‘stupid plan.’ He’d never agree.” The admission stings more than I’ll admit.
“Hmm . . .” Her smirk turns into a smug grin. “Guess you’re stuck with Lucas then.”
His name cuts through the fog in my brain. “No. Not him. Please pick someone else.”
“Did you or did you not put me in charge of the details?”
Sagging into my chair, I let out a loud sigh. “And I already regret it.”
“Unless you’d rather have one of the creepy cousins, or someone from the basketball team, there isn’t anyone. We’ve already rejected everyone else.”
No way do I want either of the Kens. And definitely none of the potentially infected. I shudder as visions of a horde of zombies descending on me invade my thoughts. “Fine. Lucas it is. But he’ll be the first to go in the next round!”
A triumphant Nicole grins. I suspect she planned this from the start.
I want to protest, but it’s useless. The only other person I might enjoy kissing isn’t willing, and as much as I hate admitting it, Nicole’s right. There isn’t anyone else. “What happens in round two?”
“I figure we can do a group date, like on The Bachelorette.”
“A group date?”
The sparkle in her eyes spells trouble. “In our case, this date will take the form of a good old-fashioned keg party. Tomorrow night. At the frat house. We’ll play spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven, truth or dare. All the old-fashioned kissing games. At the end of the night, you eliminate four more guys, sending the other eight on to round three.”
I expect her to laugh along with me—to say, “gotcha!” But she doesn’t.
“You’re serious? Spin the . . . ? Seven minutes in . . . ? What are we? Twelve?”
She finally cracks, laughing so hard tears form in the corners of her eyes. “It’s dumb, but your mom said you needed to kick a few tires and take a few test drives. What better way to accomplish that than a few old-fashioned kissing games.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. She has a point. A weak one, maybe, but a point nonetheless. “I guess I’m okay with the party. But no kegs. The last thing I need is to be alone in a house full of horny drunks.”
“Oh, come on, you won’t be alone. I’ll be there.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Forget it. I’m not budging on this one. No beer.”
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious.”
“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “Any other demands?”
“No seven minutes in heaven. I’m still traumatized after that three-and-a-half minutes I did in Monica Bradley’s closet in seventh grade.”
“Any other dreams you wanna crush?”
I choke back a laugh.
“Fine, you win. But I’m not backing down on spin the bottle. Your mom’s right. You need to do a few chemistry tests with these guys before even thinking about sex. A bad kisser is quite literally the kiss of death in the sack.”
“Fine.” I blow out a breath. “I’ll spin a bottle. What other horrors are in store for me?”
“Round three will be double dates. Eight guys . . . split into four pairs. At the end of each date, you pick your favorite to go on to the semifinals.”
The fast-paced eliminations work for me. I already have an idea of who to eliminate at the party. And if our next date goes as well as the last one, I know who I’ll end up with in the end. “Okay, I’m in. Let’s do it.”
“Sweet! I knew you’d see it my way. Listen, I need to meet up with Jer to, uh . . .” She blushes, and I can fill in the blanks.
“Go on.” I wave her off. I don’t need a play-by-play.
