Chloe shrugs. “Might work. You’re sorta scary sometimes, so they might be into that. Maybe they want a dominatrix? Have you ever worn a stiletto in bed?” She cocks her head.
“No, Chlo.” I laugh, half-exasperated. This girl alwayssurprises me. I don’t ask her the same question back—I’m afraid of the answer.
But now the thought won’t go away.
Maybe I don’t want to be the girl who goes home early again. Alone. In my freezing apartment. Pretending I don’t want what other people seem to chase so easily.
And just as I’m entertaining the idea and looking around, a familiar voice cuts through the music.
“Holy shit. If it isn’t my favorite girl. How are you, Mittens?”
I freeze.
Nofuckingway.
Chloe’s eyes widen slightly.
Slowly, I turn?—
And of course.Of course.
Leaning against the counter, smug as ever, wearing that stupid, cocky-ass grin…
Troy Hawkins.
5
TROY (EARLIER THAT NIGHT)
“Duuuuude, you're already beautiful. Can we puh-lease get out of here?” Ethan's voice carries through the bathroom, drowning out his knocking.
“I said two minutes!” I shout back. The house is loud as fuck tonight. Downstairs, everyone is having a quick drink before we hit frat row. We usually host a party the final night of the first week which turns out of hand, but tonight's the first night and it's tradition to go to an equally terrible and amazing frat party. Our parties are pretty small and fun, and they feel fucking tame compared to frat row.
I can hear Tara laughing loudly outside. I look into the mirror, into the same eyes she has—ice blue. We're close in age and look so similar that people used to assume we were twins.
I put more gel into my hair, trying to nail that messy just-got-out-of-bed look. When I'm happy enough with it, I spray another burst of aftershave and exit the bathroom.
“Fucking finally!” Ethan pops his head out of his room when he hears me leave.
“Can't go downstairs on your own, Shortcake?” I affectionately call him Strawberry Shortcake because of his red hair, not because he's short. Guy's somehow taller than me, and I'm 6'1.
He stands shaking his head. “I would, man, but have you been down there? They're all over each other.” He shivers. “It's like a couples retreat.”
I shrug. “If they're happy, I'm happy.”
He claps me on the back. “I am so proud of you. I thought you'd still be more upset about Alfie banging your sist?—”
“Finish that sentence, Ethan!” I shout after him, chasing him downstairs. He rushes into the lounge and hides behind a sofa where Alex and Freddie are curled up together.
“Protect me! He wants to hurt me!”
The others look at us without surprise.
“Brother dear, are you trying to hurt poor innocent Ethan?” my sister asks sweetly from the other couch. At least she and Alfie aren't curled up together, but his arm is placed possessively over her shoulder.
I snort. “That boy has never been innocent, and that depends. Are you sorry?” I ask Ethan.
He pops his head up, yells, “I have done nothing wrong!” before ducking back down.
