Sav: Can’t I just love you?
Chloe: You can. But you’re more of a quality time kind of girl. This act of service screams of something more.
Sav: I just wanted you to have a nice full belly so you’ll feel good and happy when we go to the Kappa Yamma Jo Jamma Fee Fi Fo Famma Party later tonight.
The laugh that bubbles out of me gets heads tilting in my direction. I gather my stuff, pull my beanie on, and make my way to the parking lot. My knuckles pale as I grip my phone tighter in my hand. I once read that even if it’s cold out, but your head is covered and warm, then you should be fine. I think by fine they meant like,won’t die. Out here in the parking lot, where the leaves skirt across the pavement and the wind nips at my bare legs, my beanie isn’t doing shit. Apparently, giving my middle finger to what the weather app says has its limits, and my cute little study outfit just found mine.
I drop down to the seat of my car, and the door closes on its own with a little help from the wind.
Sav: I know you’re overthinking it. Stop. Don’t let Rosie be right about you.
Chloe: I’ll be home in 15.
I fire off the text before opening the other thread.
Chloe: Still not a date. But I’ll meet you there.
Chloe: Oh, and stop beating people up for my number.
Maverick: For you? I’d do a whole lot more for a whole lot less.
“Okay, okay. Never have I ever been in handcuffs.”
To my right, Maverick and Silas clink their bottles together with a smile so good it feels wrong, before taking a sip of their beer.
“You’ve been arrested before?” I pull out from under Maverick’s arm, looking up at him.
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “The fun kind of handcuffs.”
I press my tongue to my cheek and look over at Savannah, who gives me an exaggerated wink. Since Noah and Savannah have started dating, we’ve done a lot more going out with the hockey team, which I don’t complain about. They’re fun, easy on the eyes, and I’ve never had to pay for my own drinks. For the most part, they show up as a team and then disperse to do their own thing. Now that two thirds of the main trio have plus ones, though, it feels like we spend a lot more time all together.
“Alright, my turn,” Parker announces, holding his hands up. “Never have I ever been stuck in traffic, shoved a T-shirt down my pants, and made a make-shift diaper.”
My jaw drops as I look around the kitchen. Silas ducks his head. Noah’s lips twist, likely holding back a laugh. Maverick takes a step away from me, patting Gabe’s shoulder. He places his index finger under Gabe’s bottle and tilts it to his mouth. “Here. Let me help you, buddy,” he says.
“It was one time, and it was bumper-to-bumper traffic!” Gabe shoves Maverick off, rolls his eyes, and takes a drink of his beer while the entire kitchen bursts into laughter.
“Bro, I don’t care if I’m in traffic, or I’m on the goddamn moon. No shot am I shoving a shirt down my pants and pissing myself.” Silas looks at him.
“That’s one of those things that your mom tells you not to worry about because no one will remember.” Noah laughs. “Except we’ll all be on our deathbeds still talking about it.”
“If you piss in my car on the drive up to Fernwood next weekend, I’m leaving you on the side of the road,” Silas says to him. “Without your thumbs, so you can’t even hitchhike.”
“Listen, I was going easy on you before, but now that I know how dirty we’re playing, get me a refill.” He points to the counter that Savannah’s sitting on. “It’s on.”
“Boys!”
I twist, looking over my shoulder, but Maverick keeps his arm wrapped around me, unmoving. A tall guy with a British accent, wearing a green Lions baseball hat, and some rather tight fitting jeans cuts between where Silas and Parker are standing.
“Quit your little circle jerk and get outside. The table has been set and waiting for us to kick your arse.” He flicks his wrist in the motion of tossing a ball.
“It’s telling how you associate little and jerking off in the same sentence," Silas deadpans.
“Do they even play beer pong where you're from? It seems cruel to take advantage of you,” Parker adds.
“I’m from Manchester, not Siberia, ya muppet. Now, put your money where your mouth is. There’s a bet going on outside that says you lot have lost your touch.”
There’s a single second of silence before Gabe speaks up. “Fuck it. I’m in.” He throws back the contents of his drink and sets the empty cup on the counter turning to Noah. “Come on, King.”
