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A tiny blonde sister, a pretty-boy jock, and an obnoxious ex-boyfriend.
In the living room couples broke off into pairs and danced and smoked in the open area, bumping along to the Top 40 playing loudly through the stereo.
“This is where you will be making your move,” Stephanie clarified, as if Tully hadn’t connected the designated dancing area to the plan they had laid out together. This is where she would approach Nathan and get his attention, while Stephanie did her part to prevent anyone from interfering.
It sounded easy enough in words, but Tully wasn’t sure she had the necessary charm to be able to catch Nathan’s attention long enough to get him to dance with her, and eventually, kiss her.
But Stephanie assured her that as long as she looked pretty and batted her eyes at him, Nathan—like any man under the influence of alcohol—would make his move.
A bold claim from a girl who had no interest in men of any kind, but Tully had no better ideas so dancing it was.
They just had to find Nathan first, and hope that eventually he would make his way to the area.
Further down the hallway and to the left she caught sight of the outdoor area, crowded with people holding cups on a small concrete patio surrounding glowing blue water.
“He has a pool,” Tully observed out loud, and Stephanie followed her eyes to the outside area that was lit blue from the underwater lights of the pool. A big old fancy pool.
“Of course he does,” Stephanie took in the crowd, and started to lead Tully down that way. “And based on the amount of people out there, I bet that’s where all the alcohol is.”
Stephanie, in her never-ending wisdom, was correct. A table sat next to the pool, adorning many empty and used cups and a big bowl of red liquid and more.
Tully raised her brow as they approached the table, and silently judged the poor choice to put alcohol right next to deep water.
They had to push past a group of basketball players too focused on their no-doubt riveting discussion while blocking the table. When they made it, Tully stopped to eye the large bowl of dirty-red liquid that sat there. She leaned forward to sniff the drink and cringed when she caught a whiff of the sweetly-sour smell of alcohol embellished with floating fruits.
“It’s jungle juice,” Stephanie said, having to yell to be heard over the group of jocks and the loud music. “Trust me, it will help with the nerves.”
Stephanie took the lead and grabbed a clear cup from the table and dunked it directly into the bowl to fill it up with juice.
Clearly, Tully needed to get out more. This was so not her scene. She was better suited to the rows of library books.
But Stephanie was right. If this disgusting-smelling drink could give her the liquid courage she needed and help her look like she belonged here, then she’ll take it.
She copied Stephanie and dunked her cup into the bowl, then tilted her head back to down as much of the jungle juice in one go as she could.
Big mistake.
The liquid burned the entire way down her throat, a bitter-sweet mixture that stung. She coughed, took a breath, and went in for another round. She could use every last ounce.
“Tully, look,” Stephanie hissed. “Twelve o’clock.”
Tully turned—still drinking the rest of her juice—to see Stephanie pointing past the group of jocks to another group chatting just a few meters away from them. And right in the middle, wearing a striped button-up shirt and his hair perfectly parted and styled, was Nathan Rondeau. He laughed at something his friend said, and tipped back his own cup of jungle juice, finishing its contents.
Pausing, Tully pulled the cup away and put it down on the table among the other used plastic glasses. Her eyes were officially on the target.
And there went her nerve.
Talking about the plan was easy in Stephanie’s bedroom, but now that she was here, eyeing her target on the other side of the pool . . . “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
Stephanie spun to her, and shook her head. “I believe in you,” she said, and took it in her own hands to dunk her another drink and push it back into Tully’s hand. “Just need to keep our eyes on him until he goes inside and catch up to him there—like we planned.”
Would it be terrible to just go up and kiss him and get this over with?
Yes. Even with the alcohol starting to dizzy her mind, she knew that it would make her appear desperate. That would have the opposite effect. If she was going to kiss Nathan, it needed to be a kiss that he reciprocated or else it would all go to naught.
Tully groaned and turned back to the drink table to chug her disgusting drink again. Maybe she would think clearer if she was intoxicated.
“Uh oh,” Stephanie muttered, and Tully glanced up to see what drew her attention away from Nathan. “Incoming.”
