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“Welcome to the real world, son.”
I winced.
I hated when he called me that, but Uncle Ant and I had reached an understanding in our relationship somewhere over the last four years.
Maybe it had to do with me not living under his roof anymore, or maybe it was the fact he paid my way through school and had given me more than I’d ever had—could ever dream of.
“Thank you.” I hugged my aunt back and nodded at my uncle over her shoulder. I would thank him properly later, man to man, but right now, all I wanted to do was get out of this ridiculous gown and celebrate.
“Brittany, sweetheart.” Aunt Miranda released me and met Brittany with open arms. “You look beautiful. Congratulations.” She pulled her into a hug, and Brittany’s parents, Trent and Sandi, came around to congratulate me.
“Son, congratulations.” Trent took my hand in his firm grip and shook it. “We couldn’t be prouder of the two of you. And thank you for looking after our girl these last four years.” He winked; the fucker actually winked.
Brittany sidled up to her father and smiled up at him. “Daddy,” she crooned. “What have I told you? Blake and I are just friends.”
“Baby, I would be proud to call a fine young man such as Blake my son. Now, don’t you two have somewhere to be?”
Son?
What the fuck?
I was still gaping at Trent when Brittany slipped her arm through mine and tugged me away, waving at her parents and my aunt and uncle.
“Did your dad actually just suggest we get married?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Blake.” She let out a strained laugh. “He was just kidding. You know they’d love for us to get together. Although, we could celebrate tonight, you know if you wanted to.”
“Brit,” I warned.
It had happened twice. Okay, maybe three times, but I was always wasted, and she was usually rebounding from her latest douchebag of a boyfriend.
“What?” She pouted. “I’m horny, and besides, when was the last time you got laid?”
“I get laid.”
“Oh, okay then, who was she?”
“Some girl.” I shrugged, starting to feel pissed that she was pushing this.
“Some girl,” she mocked. “There was no girl, Blake. Such a waste,” Brittany mumbled under her breath.
We reached our friends, and I shook her off me. I didn’t need any of the guys giving me shit over her as well. I had enough on my plate with Trent and Uncle Anthony.
“What’s up, guys?” Vaughn, one of our friends, said, pulling me in for a hug.
“We’re ready to party, man, and I need to get out of this dress.”
Everyone burst into laughter, and we headed back to our shared house to change.
* * *
“Shit, man, Brit is wasted.” Vaughn tipped his beer in the direction of where the girls were dancing.
The plan had been civilized drinks and dinner at Brindley’s Brasserie. Uncle Anthony had made reservations for the eight of us, but the drinks flowed, and before long, we were being ushered through the VIP entrance of Cashmere’s, a swanky bar downtown. It was full of students celebrating graduation, but we had our own private booth and table service.
“Yeah,” I groaned. “Maybe she’ll hook up with someone, and I can sneak out without playing babysitter.”
“Dude, she’s had a boner for you since freshman year.”
