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“Back up, single white female.” Fancy retreated several steps, pouting, and I immediately recognized that I was being an asshole. “I just wanna look pretty.” Most days were spent in cargo pants or oversized sweatshirts, and there weren’t many opportunities to get dressed up. And oftentimes when I did, I felt silly and like everyone was staring at my ass.

“You always look pretty. Your body is insane; you just cover it up. I wish I was that toned. We need to work out together, sis. Because what is it?” She pointed to my backside. “Is it squats or weights?” I didn’t respond, and she moved on. “One last question.”

Rolling my eyes, I did the best I could to remove the irritated expression from my face.

“Do you wanna look nice for Shelton or Oz? Because those are two different looks.”

I was caught off guard. “I don’t think they are.”

“Ozzie’s an ass man. He wrote an entire poem about your backside his senior year, and then performed said poem at the talent show and won first place.”

It was a sweet ode—he’d rhymed posterior with misbehavior. “I’m going out with Shelton, so let’s focus on him.”

“Listen, I know relationships are complicated. Lord knows I do. But you and Oz are something beyond that. It’s giving soul tie. You two are connected, and time has not weakened that bond. Maybe it’s because he was your first—”

“Excuse you? How would you know that?”

“Edison told me.”

I flinched. What other secrets was Edison telling her? “I’m gonna have a chat with Eddy about boundaries.”

“It makes sense. He’s your first, he’s Maple’s daddy, and he’s Oz, which means he’s cool as fuck, and everyone wants to be around him.”

“Not me.” My words were surrounded by a nervous chuckle.

“The lady doth protest too much.”

“Don’t you William Shakespeare me.” I rolled my eyes.

Most people did like Oz. He and Fancy brought the personality to any function. I, like my brothers, brought the can we go home yet? vibes. Take this party, for instance: Edison would never host a housewarming party without Fancy’s insistence. Edison liked privacy, not beer bongs and drunken, sweaty dancing. But Fancy liked to entertain, so I guessed now they liked to entertain. And I got it—people thought I was really funny when I was with Oz, but that was just because he was, and always made sure I was in on the joke.

“I think you could wear a burlap sack and Shelton would foam at the mouth over you, because it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dial, every eligible person in Hume wants to be with you.”

I sputtered. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s true, you’re just oblivious. Most guys don’t ask you out because they’re afraid of Ozzie. I think once a quarter he makes the rounds and reminds everyone you’re off-limits. Just driving around town honking his horn and shaking his fist out the window.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Ozzie cruising the streets blasting “The Girl Is Mine” to ward off potential suitors.

“You’re kind of the prize, and the man that wins your heart is going to have bragging rights for an eternity.”

Maybe I was wrong about Fancy. She was definitely good for my ego.

“So, let’s get you in a smoking-hot outfit that is sure to make Shelton and anyone else in the vicinity stand at attention.”

8

Ozzie

Edison and Fancy’s place was a stark contrast to the last time I’d visited. Gone were the knickknacks and peculiar finds, replaced by simplicity. Shit, I’d throw a party too if I could finally move through my house without stubbing a toe. The place was packed with forty or fifty people. It was reminiscent of a high school party, and all the usual suspects were present. Most probably wanted to see the inside of the old Castle Farmhouse, my date included.

“It’s not so creepy.” Melodie’s voice was filled with surprise.

“It never was.”