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“Tonight? Sure. What time?”
“Come over whenever,” I say. “I’m just getting in the shower. Mom and Jim are out at some charity event tonight, so I’ll probably just order a pizza if you want in.”
“Okay cool. See you soon.”
I text Katie too, even though I know she’ll be busy. She's always busy. I know she's got a lot on between work and her boyfriend, but I feel like we never see each other anymore.
We went from being friends who used to hang out at least a few times a week, to being lucky if we see each other once a month. I used to be closer to Katie that I was to Sasha, but lately? It’s other way around.
Her text comes through and sure enough, she can't make it.
Me: Can we catch up soon? I feel like I never see you.
Katie: I know, I'm sorry. I promise we’ll catch up soon.
I have a quick shower and as I wrap myself in a towel, my phone flashes. I pick it up and smile. Another message from James.
James: Thank God it’s Friday, huh? Big plans for the weekend?
Me: Hopefully whipping my soon-to-be-stepbrother’s ass.
James: Sounds kinky. And kind of creepy. If it were a stepsister, though, that would be hot.
Me: Of course it would be. And we’d have pillow fights and practice our kissing.
James: I feel like you’re messing with me.
Me: Maybe a little ;)
James: So you and the older stepbrother don’t get along?
Darcy: He’s okay, he’s just so cocky and full of himself. The whole world revolves around him.
Me: Ah. One of those people.
Darcy: Yep. I’m looking forward to showing him up.
James: He sounds like hard work.
Me: A total pain in the ass.
James: And about that shower…
Me: What shower?
James: Cough* pics *cough.
Me: In your dreams.
James: Every night. Only I have no idea what you look like, so I have to picture Betty White
Me: Betty White?
James: Yeah, from The Golden Girls?
Me: Gross, she’d be in her nineties by now.
James: Obviously I don’t picture her NOW… I mean her Golden Girl’s era. She was so much hotter at seventy. Anyway, it does the job, until I get some better material.
Me: You pretty much just admitted that if I send you a pic, you’ll jack off to it…
James: If that’s the worst thing you took from that entire conversation, then I’m worried about you.
Laughing, I glance at the time.
Shit.
If I don’t hurry up, Sash is going to be downstairs, alone with Cameron and his friends, which would be disastrous. It’s not that I don’t trust her…actually, yes, that’s exactly it. I don’t trust her. Nothing comes between Sasha and single men, so I don’t doubt for a second that she’d do whatever she had to do in order to break the ice, no matter how embarrassing or shameful it might be.
I quickly change into a pair of jeans and choose a fitted purple shirt with a very low cut front to pair with it. I run a brush through my dark hair, leaving it down, then I throw on some mascara and lip gloss. I’m not sure why I’m so intent on looking my best, or why I have gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that I only get when I like someone, but I choose not to think too hard about it. If I don’t read into it, then it’s not a problem.
I give myself one more look over in the mirror, then I bound down the stairs, two at a time. Cameron looks up from the table in the dining room, where he sits with two other guys.
Wow. A real, genuine smile from Cameron Hunter.
It’s just as quickly, it’s replaced with a smirk, but it was there all the same. Our chat today was more than I’d spoken to him previously, combined. It was nice to see another side to him.
“I hope it’s okay that I invited a friend?” I ask.
“Only if it’s the hot one.”
Mack?
I groan as he saunters over from the fridge with a can of soda. He sits at the table and grins at me. If I’d known he was going to be here, I would have warned Sash. She’s going to kill me.
“Aren’t you too young to gamble?” I ask.
He winks at me. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” Then he pauses. “Actually, that goes for many things that society may frown upon me doing with you. Or to you.” He pauses again. “Or your hot friend.” He grins at me and raises his eyebrows. “Or both of you...”
Cameron chuckles. “Keep your pants on Don Juan, or you’ll have to leave the table.”
“Don who?” Mack mutters, shaking his head.
Sasha texts me that she’s here, and then five seconds later, the doorbell rings. I let her in, leading her back into the dining room, where I introduce her to the guys. Well, to Cameron at least. She’s already met Mack, and Cameron’s friends I haven’t even met.
