“Okay, we’re heading out. Catch you later, Sunny T.” Alex’s deep chocolate orbs and flirty dimple throw one more log on this internal flame burning bright for him.
“Bye, Alex. Ainsley.” I try a little harder not to say her name with complete disdain. It’s not her fault that I wish he were mine. She may be pretty, but she’s a superficial leech. He has to know she’s made her way through half of the men at the rescue squad and the fire department before she latched onto him.I guess the police department is next.
“Sunny T?” Grace interrupts my thoughts.
“Yeah. Alex is the king of nicknames. My brother went by his given name, Thomas, until Alex came along. But he started calling him T Ricky, and it stuck. Now even my parents call him Ricky.” I laugh.
“So, where did Sunny T come from?”
“I don’t know for certain. But I’m assuming Ricky told him about how I used to drink Sunny Delight all the time as a kid.”
“The orange drink?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s he call Ainsley?” She shakes her head in disgust. “Never mind. I really don’t want to know.”
“You know, I don’t remember him ever using anything but her real name.”Hmm. Seems odd now that I think about it.
“I think Airhead fits,” Grace adds. Snickering in her direction, I take in my gorgeous friend. Graceland Montgomery is a five-foot-six stunner named for her mother’s love of all things Elvis. She’s a natural beauty. Her porcelain skin is flawless, set against perfect bright white teeth and shining blue eyes framed by naturally long dark lashes. Yet she seems utterly unaware of how attractive she is. Instead of playing up her features in figure-hugging attire, she gravitates toward boho chick. Oversized floral is her jam.
Retrieving a soup container from the take-out bag, she continues, “So why on earth were they here?”
“Oh, Ricky has started traveling to medical schools for interviews. Alex brought by a key to his place in case I wanted a reprieve from the parentals.”
Grace’s eyes brighten, and she dances in place. “Oh.” She claps. “While the mouse is away, the cat will play.”
Chapter 3
Tuesday
“Oh. No more,” I tell Grace, pushing away the tray of sushi. “It’s so good. I could eat all of them by myself.”
“Don’t do that. You won’t have room for ice cream later.”
“All of us can’t eat whatever we want and maintain a perfect figure like you.” I give her a playful jab. I take in the coffee table in Ricky’s apartment and chuckle. “We’re pathetic. Most twenty-year-olds who managed a girls’ weekend in their brother’s apartment would be treating themselves to drinks and painting each other’s nails. We’re doing homework, eating vegetables, and watchingPride and Prejudicefor about the one-hundredth time.”
“Okay, don’t mock it. It’s the best movie ever made,” Grace declares, lifting her hand and awaiting my high-five. “Besides. We’re mature, responsible girls. If we want to go to that squad party at Vincent’s house on Saturday night, we better knock out the homework now. ’Cause Sunday, we’re going to be useless.”
This is where the ‘mice will play,’ as Grace so eloquently put it.
My life at the rescue squad is more akin to the blue-haired volunteers who man the phones than the rest of the EMTs. While constant parties are happening, it’s pointless attending one if my brother is within a sixty-mile radius. I’d be forced into a corner, like being assigned to the children’s table at a holiday function. Watched, guarded, and practically branded as if wearing an “off limits” sign around my neck.
Grace understands the dilemma. She’s seen Ricky’s domineering behavior when we’ve been out with him and his girlfriend, Julia. I’ve given up pushing back against it. He’s the self-appointed family bodyguard against men ‘on the prowl.’ But we’re young and deserve the chance to have fun and meet someone attractive.
“So, what are we wearing tomorrow night?” I admit this line of questioning may be to ensure she doesn’t have some new thrift store find she’s dying to try out. I don’t want us to stand out. The whole point of going to these parties is to have fun, blend in, and enjoy this time of my life.
“Don’t worry, T. I’m just wearing jeans and a T-shirt.” She laughs. “The real question is, what areyouwearing?” She waggles her brows at me. We both know we’re hoping we can attract some handsome, eligible mates, preferably with date potential. But, honestly, I’d settle for one evening of feeling admired.
“Something to show off my assets.” I giggle, stretching my sleep shirt tight against my breasts. They’re a C cup, one of my best features, and I admit I’m not ashamed to flaunt them.
Okay, when Ricky’s away.
* * *
We arrive at the party in full swing. Vincent’s house reminds me of something you’d see on Greek Row. But it’s in the burbs. The house is shared with three roommates, and the yard and interior look every bit the frat house. As we cross the threshold, the stench of stale beer hits me in the face, and there’s a sticky sensation beneath my shoes when I walk.
Leaning into Grace, I ask, “Remind me why we’ve been dying to go to one of these again.”
