Daisy bounces up and down. “This is soSisterhood of the Traveling Pantscoded. Or—or, like, the three best friends inMamma Mia!”
“I mean, we legit could share pants,” I tell them. “I’ve never had friends I could potentially share clothes with.”
Daisy slaps me on the shoulder, her jaw unhinged in shock. “Oh my god! Me neither.”
Briar scoffs. “Well, I guess I could say the same, but I can’t imagine wanting to wear either of your cutesy-ass clothes.”
“Awww,” I croon, and rest my head against her shoulder. “I’m always the grumpy friend, but you’ve really set the bar so high.”
“Don’t be too nice to me,” she warns. “It’ll make me horny and confused.”
I reach up to pat her head affectionately.
With the second shot working its magic, I am a new woman who suddenly has the confidence to dance. “Do you guys like to dance?” I ask. “I feel like I would be so good at dancing.”
Daisy grinds against me a little. “You read my mind.”
She drags us toward the formal sitting room where the couches and leather wingback armchairs have been pushed to the sides. A crush of hardly clothed people are bouncing around and in many casesdry humping to “Dancing Queen” by ABBA and then “Espresso”by Sabrina Carpenter.
Daisy ends up squashed between us and she throws her arms in the air. “Slutty dance sandwich!”
A taller guy in a very tiny loincloth made out of condoms still in their wrappers settles in behind Briar and the look on her face tells me everything I need to know.
“How do you feel about virgins?” Daisy asks.
I slap my hand over her mouth and she licks my palm. “She’s kidding.”
The guy doesn’t budge, so Briar very plainly yells, “We’re not looking for a fourth and even if we were, it wouldn’t be you, buddy.”
“She called youbuddy!” I shout at him. “What a burn!”
Briar laughs, taken aback, like she finds me both confusing and surprising. “You know what? Hell yeah!”
His face screws up in confusion before he disappears into the crowd that is awash with light from the blue strip lights that have been adhered to the ornate crown molding. Whoever’s mom hired the landscaper is probably also responsible for the interior decor, and I have a feeling she would not approve of tape on her walls.
“You sure about not needing a fourth?” someone behind me asks. “I am the ideal candidate.”
I spin around to tell this next guy to back off and stumble into Tate’s chest, my palms resting on each of his very naked pectorals.
“Whoa there.” He catches me by the waist and pulls me closer into a lingering hug.
“Hey,buddy,” Daisy says with a snort, “she’s married!”
“Settle down, kitty,” he says. “I’m a friend. You don’t have to make up a fake husband to keep me away. I’m the one who invited you three here anyway.”
Daisy hiccups and then giggles to herself.
He takes inventory of the three of us. “And I’m guessing the person manning the coolers did not take the X’s on your hands into consideration.”
“It would be rude not to offer your guests beverages,” I explain with his arms still around my waist.
“No, actually, it would be aliabilityto offer,” he corrects. “In fact, you guys should just stay here and sleep it off. We have a few spare rooms at the moment. You don’t want to get hassled by the campus police on your walk back.”
Before I can kindly decline, Daisy yanks my hand up so that my ring is right in his face. “Married, remember? We’ve got to get this little lady home to her old man at the end of the night or else she’ll turn into a pumpkin.”
“Oh shit! You were serious.” Tate looks down at me like I’m an absolute stranger and also a very interesting challenge. My cheeks warm as I remember how close we got at that hockey party earlier this semester. Since then, we’ve flirted in pottery class (when I usually take off my ring), but nothing has progressed beyond that, so it didn’t feel necessary to tell him about Bennett.
He unfurls one arm from around my waist but still holds me tight with the other. “This husband of yours lets you out of his sight?” he asks. “I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
