“Right,” she drawls, a knowing smile curving her lips. “Oh! How about the man bun? He’s got a nice ass.”
“Who’s got a nice ass?” My brother Noah appears at Haley’s side with a bottle of lager clutched in his meaty paw. Warmth floods my cheeks and he smirks at me, like he knows exactly what we’ve been discussing. It’s not possible—not with the thumping bass—but the knowledge does little to quell my embarrassment. The last thing I need is Noah giving me shit about my virgin status. Or my disastrous love life. Or really, anything. “Don’t tell me Calamity Quinn’s scoping out the brothers. You know the rules.” He pauses, taking a pull on his beer. “Sig Chi is off limits.”
I roll my eyes—hard. “Trust me, we have zero interest in your brothers,” I say, placing air quotes around the last word.
Noah’s two years older than me and it’s his last year at Waverly, but he still takes this wholeno hooking up with my friendsthing to another level. Which is ridiculous, because I have no desire to lose my virginity to a Sig Chi.
Oneoverbearingobnoxious brother is more than enough, thank you very much.
“We just came for the free beer,” Haley assures him, raising her cup.
“Good.” Noah nods, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Just keep Quinntessential Disaster out of trouble tonight. We don’t need a visit from the plumber this early in the semester.”
“That was one time!” I argue, planting a hand on my hip.
And it wasn’t even my fault.
Not entirely, anyway.
“Yeah,” Noah says, flicking the end of my nose, “and it was one time too many. That shit’s expensive, Quinntastrophe.”
I glare at him, doing my best impression of a crazy ginger. Not that it takes much effort. The truth is, there are two kinds of redheads. The ones who hate the fiery temper stereotype, and those who perpetuate it.
Guess which one I am?
Haley laughs and swats Noah playfully. “Be nice.”
Gross.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were flirting. But Hales would never do that to me. Plus, it’s Noah. Overprotective brother shtick aside, he’s the most unevolved guy on the planet. They’d be a terrible match.
Unless it’s true what they say about opposites attracting...
I shrug off the thought—no need to rot my brain with images of them getting hot and heavy—and smile sweetly at my brother. “Don’t you have beer to guzzle and sorority women to woo?”
“Woo? Who the hell even talks like that? Christ, it’s no wonder you’re single.” He shakes his head and takes a pull on his lager. “No exploding faucets. And no hooking up,” he adds, jabbing a finger in my direction as he disappears into the crowd.
Doubt creeps up my spine, all the ways this plan could blow up in my face taking root in my brain.
Damn Noah and his stupid wordplay.
Quinntessential disaster. Calamity Quinn. Quinntastrophe.
The childhood nicknames aren’t exactly far off the mark and whisper in my ear like a backstabbing frenemy.
The kind you forget to give your address to when you move.
“Ignore him,” Haley says, turning to level her gaze at me. “Stay focused on the mission.”
Easy for her to say. The girl has confidence for days. She’s tall and graceful, with flawless brown skin, high cheekbones, and an alluring smile that draws people in. Me? I’m a hot mess personified. It’s a reality I’ve been fighting my entire life, which is why I’m the only one of my friends who’s never had a real orgasm.
Not one that wasn’t self-delivered anyway.
Haley snaps her fingers in front of my face, and I shake off the lingering doubt.
“Right, the mission.” I peer over her shoulder, checking out man bun. Hedoeshave a nice ass. And an inviting smile.So what the hell are you waiting for?“Wish me luck.”
I chug the rest of my beer—liquid courage FTW—and hand my empty cup to Haley.
