He nudges me with an elbow. “Of course! You’re my guest. What kind of a host would I be if I didn’t see to your needs?”
Barf.
He shakes his hair out of his face in a gesture I imagine is a signature move. “Some of us are gonna play spin the bottle. What do you say? You in?”
“Spin the bottle?” If my tone wasn’t making clear how surprised and, frankly, appalled I am, I’m guessing my face is. I don’t have the strongest brain-to-face filter.
I can’t help but shoot a glance at my nameless friend, who meets my eye with awhat’ll it be?expression with a bold subheading ofthis is what I have to deal with.
“Yeah!” Brad says, missing my horror. “For old times’ sake.”
“Right…” I try for a smile. I’m confident this is less for old times’ sake and more for Brad’s good times’ sake. I haven’t played spin the bottle since freshman year of high school, and I definitely don’t intend to break my streak tonight.
Brad shrugs when I take too long to respond. “We’ll be in the living room if you want to join.”
Next to me, his roommate gives a sort of grimace.
“Wait,” I say. “What about your roommate?” Brad never even checked whether he wanted to join.
Brad turns around, confused. “Who, Jack?”
Jack. His name is Jack. I look at him to see whether it fits. It does. It fits him as well as the blue Henley he’s wearing.
Unable to resist a little teasing, I put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “He wasjustsaying he wished there was a different way to get to know all the amazing young ladies here tonight than just standing around and talking.”
Jack narrows his eyes at me, and the promise of revenge there sends a thrilling chill across my skin.
Brad laughs, his eyes darting to my hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I don’t think so. He told me not to expect to see him the entire night.”
I squeeze Jack’s shoulder, amazed by the sheer bravery I’m exhibiting right now given the retribution his gaze is already promising. “He takes his fridge guarding duties seriously, doesn’t he?”
Brad’s brow furrows, but I don’t even care. None of these comments are for him.
“Actually”—Jack smiles in a way that’s slightly frightening, then looks at Brad—“I’m game.”
My mouth might be hanging open. I didn’t expect Jack to actually agree to play. In fact, I was counting on him digging in his heels so I could hang out with him in the kitchen.
Jack pats my hand on his shoulder. “Like Siena here, I’m always up for anything.”
“Sweet,” Brad says. Then he’s gone like the wind.
Jack puts out a hand, smiling way too politely. “After you.”
4
SIENA
I was wrong.
Well, I was rightandwrong. It’s the night before my flight to France, and Jack and I have unpacked and sorted everything in the boxes—everything from clothes for Madi to ribbon to bridesmaid dresses. Itisless than it had looked like before, but the three suitcases I had are clearly not sufficient.
After the two of us wrestle the zipper of the third suitcase closed, I sit back on my heels and blow out a puff of air. I’ve got a flight tomorrow morning, and I still haven’t packed my own stuff. I have no time to go on suitcase quests.
Reluctant as I am to admit it, if it hadn’t been for Jack’s help over the past few days, I shudder to think what state I would be in.
To be clear, my current state isn’t particularly flattering. My hair is up in a ponytail, but half of it has fallen out of the tie. It’s distinctly different from an intentional half-up style. I’m also in sweats and—out of pure desperation—an oversizedAmy Stewart for Senatecampaign shirt since most of my clothes are in the wash so I can pack them.
I glance at Jack, who’s smiling at me. Always smiling at me like he knows something I don’t.
