“The horror,” Johnny drawled, unamused.
I cringed. Actually, the whole idea that he and I might have… was pretty laughable. And I highly doubted he’d be the disappointment in that scenario.
Unlike myself, he looked ridiculously put together right now.
Every blond hair was in place, the stubble on his jaw a perfect, sexy shadow, his sculpted bod needing nothing more to show it off than the sleeveless black T and soft sweats he was wearing. The artful, colorful tattoos up his arms and one side of his neck—the really expensive kind—only enhanced what nature gave him, which was a generous helping from the beauty pool. Gleaming jewelry, just the right amount to look glam and not trashy, white teeth, the works. He looked ready for a photo shoot. I looked ready for my “before” pics in a makeover column.
His deep, aquamarine eyes scanned over both his sister and me. “Just checking to make sure you were both still breathing. Did you drink the bar completely dry last night?”
“Depends which bar you mean.” Shayla smiled at him, hip-checking her drawer shut.
“Any of them.”
“Welllll, let’s just say that we do what we want and we don’t need to ask your permission. Down with the patriarchy and all that.” She smiled at her brother again and fluttered her panties toward the door like,You scoot on along now.
“Maybe you should ask my permission. You need someone to bounce your terrible ideas off of.”
“I take offense, sir!” she lied. “Most of my ideas areamaze.”
“Yeah? Leaving your friend to the horny wolves after giving her borderline alcohol poisoning? Brilliant.”
“Hey, I didn’t leave her anywhere,” Shayla retorted, dropping the humor. “I dropped her off at her apartment, safe and sound. Leave no woman behind. You know that’s my motto when I go out with the girls.”
“Her apartment?” Johnny’s eyes met mine. I grabbed one of Shayla’s pillows and stuffed it over my face.
“Yes,her home,” Shay said. “Whatever happened after that, I was unaware.”
“Unaware?” Johnny echoed incredulously. When Shayla and her brother locked horns, they could go on like this for a while. I wasn’t sure my headache could take it. “Are youawarethat someone could’ve taken advantage of her, easily, in that state? She was trashed.”
“Guys…” I uttered weakly.
“And where were you last night?” Shay fired back at him accusingly. “How did she get in here, drunk as a newly single skunk? And now she’s wearingyourshirt, hmmmmm? All by herself? Or did she have a little help?”
“Of course she had help,” he shot back. “I found her in the driveway getting groped by a bunch of entitled douche-twats.”
I peeked out from under the pillow to see Shayla’s jaw drop. “Angie!” She whirled toward me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I croaked.
“No thanks to you,” Johnny told his sister. “When I got here, she was alone with four guys. She came toyoufor help when she couldn’t shake some clingy frat boys. Where were you?”
Shayla spun back to him and gaped for a second, then recovered. “Well, I thank you for helping her. Now get your hypocritical ass out of my house. You smell of last night’s vodka binge, and I have to get dressed for dance practice.” With that, she placed her hand flat on her brother’s chest, backed him out of the room and shut the door in his face.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he growled through the door.
“No, we will not!” she sang back. Then she rushed over to me. “Angeline!” She tossed herself on the bed next to me, her bra and panties flying, and peered at my face. “Four guys?”
I plucked the bra off my neck where it landed. “Uh, there were only three guys. I think. You can get dressed if you want. Don’t you have dance practice?”
“Fuck that.” She snatched her bra back. “How much did you have to drink after I left you??”
I groaned. “Don’t worry. I’m never drinking again.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” I sniffed, as more memories of last night flooded in. Then I moaned like a wounded animal. “Shayla… Flynn got home after I did and… he smelled like perfume, and…” I started crying, spluttering nonsensically as I tried to force out the words. “Gl-glitter…”
Shayla frowned, struggling to follow my weepy, broken sentence. “He smelled like glitter?”
