I’m typing when her next message pops up, beating me to it.
Dave
Okay…moderately
Your spelling is impressive
Dave
I’m impressive
You are
Is Sutton Davis drunk?
Dave
Who is that?
Thought I was Dave
You hate when I call you that
Dave
That’s not true
Okay, Dave
Dave
Okay, Coop
I’m hungry
Want me to pick you up?
Sutton shares her location with me—indefinitely—but I know what party she’s at. We won a hard earned game tonight and my roommates wanted to celebrate. I had a beer with them here, reaching for a second in the fridge when they left, but it’s sitting next to me undrank. I have an exam tomorrow and a study packet from tonight’s review I missed ready for download.
I climb out of bed and slip on a pair of sweats and grab my second favorite sweatshirt. It’s cold out, and I doubt from the video she sent me that what she’s wearing is very warm and is most certainly out of Elliot’s closet.
Ten minutes later, I’m opening the door to the basketball house. It takes me almost another ten to locate her. People stop to chat or offer me a beer. I’m pulled in a million directions before heading to the basement.
To the left of the stairs, I find Chase and Beckett on a couch facing the table Sutton is dancing on. The leather skirt she’s in is short. Long, muscular legs stretch for days from this angle and the added height from the knee-high, heeled boots she’s in. The entire outfit is black, which I’m not used to seeing her in. Everything Sutton wears is bright and colorful—even the only pair of black jeans she owns have some sort of flair to them.
Sutton’s hips move freely to the music with Elliot and another girl with dark hair. She’s familiar but I can’t pinpoint how.
“Hey, Cap,” Chase says. “Thought you weren’t coming.”
“I’m not. Picking up Sutton.”
“Oh?” Chase replies, intrigued.
I nod my head at the dark-haired girl. “Who is that?” Her baggy sweatpants and fitted crop top make her stand out. No one else is dressed as casually.
Except Beck, who pulls the beer away from his mouth. His icy blue eyes and chipped electric blue nails—courtesy of his little sister—are bright even in the dim lighting.
“Iris,” he bites.
