Her words had me recoiling at the thought of the last hot stranger I had been drawn to. I swallowed around the lump in my throat.
I forced a dry laugh from my mouth. “I appreciate your efforts in facilitating random hookups for the night. But I think just a beer and some nachos will be all that I need,” I said.
“And probably a lot less drama,” Renee quipped.
On a whim, I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Come out with us,” I said.
“I’d rather not be on hand to witness the Brooks Hamlin drool fest, thank you very much.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that anymore, Renee. Brooks and I are friends. He isn’t looking to get into my pants,” I swore, though I felt a twinge of doubt at the truth of my words.
“Yeah, well, it would still be kind of third-wheelish. You and Brooks have all those dork jokes you think are funny and no one else does. And when you start reciting Adam Sandler movies, it makes me want to slit my wrists. Just sayin’, ” Renee teased, and I tossed my hairbrush at her.
“Would you rather have us quoteMagic Mike? I know how obsessed you are with that particular cinematic masterpiece,” I laughed.
“Do not mock Channing Tatum,” she warned, shaking my hairbrush in my face.
I snatched it out of her hand and pulled my hair up into a ponytail.
“Go get dressed. You’re coming with us. I won’t take no for an answer,” I told her, shooing her out of my room.
Renee groaned. “OneHappy Gilmorequote and I’m taking a cab home,” she yelled from the hallway.
I grinned as I finished getting ready.
I was going out... with my friends.
I felt pretty damn good.
Of course, I should have known that it wasn’t meant to last.
chapter
eight
aubrey
we ended up going to a bar downtown that was a regular hangout for the LU crowd. I hadn’t made a habit of frequenting the place, because I wasn’t much on socializing in general.
I had never been the type of student to play beer pong at frat parties or do keg stands until I passed out. When we were freshmen, Renee had dragged me to several parties, but I had typically spent my night hanging awkwardly by the door like the stereotypical wallflower.
I was on my third Sam Adams and was experiencing the fuzzy light-headedness that meant I was slightly inebriated. A little sloppy and very giggly drunk.
“God, they suck!” I yelled into Brooks’s ear as we watched a crappy band play their instruments really badly on the small stage at the back of the room. They were butchering Led Zeppelin’s “Tangerine” into something almost unintelligible.
Renee’s new “friend,” Iain, had shown up and they had gone off to play a game of pool. She hadn’t answered me when I had asked her whether she had called him. She played it coy, refusing to acknowledge that she was enjoying his company as much as it seemed that she was.
I knew that to acknowledge that she was opening herself to someone who wasn’t Devon seemed impossible right now. But I was happy to see that she was trying.
So maybe I should follow her example.
The suggestion to find a stranger seemed entirely too daunting. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the company of the person I had come with. And right now, with more than a little bit of alcohol in my system, I found myself pulled in by the comfortable familiarity of the man who sat on the stool beside me.
Brooks bobbed his head up and down in time to the music. He had also had several mixed drinks, though he didn’t seem to be remotely drunk. It was clear that he was a lot more used to it than I was. Brooks looked over at me, his eyes twinkling. “They’re not so bad. At least they know who Led Zeppelin is,” he joked, referencing my lack of rock history knowledge when we had first started dating.
He had been horrified when he had played Zeppelin’sHouses of the Holyalbum and I had asked who they were. As I was growing up, my parents had subjected me to all manner of country music. As a teenager I was more likely to listen to Top 40 than to the Rolling Stones. After that he had made it his mission to educate me on the finer points of rock and roll, forcing me to know every song by Jimi Hendrix and the names of every member of the Who.
And I could now consider myself properly schooled. I smacked his leg and then let my hand rest there, not moving it away. “Shut up. I know who they are now,” I slurred a bit. My hand felt clammy against the fabric of Brooks’s jeans. I thought I felt his muscles clench beneath my palm and I dug my fingers in slightly.
