“Hey,” she says softly. I look away, feeling suddenly ashamed.She went through this with her mom. She shouldn’t have to take care of me too. I’m such a piece of shit. “Are you okay?”
I lick my dry lips and give her a small smile. “Peachy.”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you going to do that again?”
“Puke?” I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Maybe later.”
She huffs a laugh. “You’re ridiculous. Come back out into the living room. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
I climb to my feet, still feeling shaky, and hobble to the couch to sit down.
Bastian is sitting on the other sofa, fiddling with his phone. He glances up. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” I croak.
Fi takes a glass from the kitchen cabinet and fills it from the tap. Then, she walks over and hands it to me. I nod my thanks.
She sits beside me and puts a hand on my wrist. “What can I do to help, B?”
“I have no idea.” I swallow. “I just need a distraction. Tell me something funny.”
Fi looks thoughtful and then her eyes brighten. “Do you want to know how I stopped Dennis that day in the alley?”
Bastian places his phone on the couch. He gives her a questioning look.
“I didn’t just stab him in the cheek with my keys.” She pauses with a wide, proud grin. “I kneed him in the dick.”
I snort a laugh. “You kneed him in the dick? Impressive.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not completely helpless, you know.” Her smile is impish, and butterflies burst in my stomach. Despite the residual nausea, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this normal. Maybe better than normal.
Fi’s long hair falls in an auburn wave over her forehead, and I push it behind her ear. She flinches back slightly and my hand drops.
I sigh. “I have never, for a moment, considered you helpless, Fiona Flowers.”
She tilts her head at me. “What?”
“Do you remember the night we met?”
She grins, a dimple popping in her left cheek. “You mean Lincoln’s first Halloween party?” I nod. “Of course I remember. We were dressed in the same costume.”
Seb looks between us. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What was the costume?”
Fi’s grin widens as she looks at him. “Princess Leia’s gold bikini.”
Seven years ago, Whitmore University
I sipbeer from my orange Solo cup, spilling a drop down my bare chest. I frown and wipe away the sticky liquid, thankful it didn’t stain the shiny gold bra. It’s not mine—a girl from my English class let me borrow it. The underwire digs obnoxiously into my ribs just below my pecs, and I’m starting to understand why girls complain so much. I reach down, shuffling the damn thing around.
“What’s wrong with your tits, Michaels?”
“Ha ha, very funny, Trey,” I tell him. He gives me a shit-eating grin as his eyes graze my body. “I’m not your fuckboy eye candy. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
Trey winks and walks away, snickering. The more I’m treated like a woman, the more empathy I feel.
“Nice rack, Michaels!” Mason catcalls. He’s a year older than me, and it was his bet that landed me in this ridiculous outfit. I flip him off and walk over to a group of guys standing around a mossy gravestone and a keg of beer, which is wedged into the grass against the stone.
“Keg stand anyone?” my teammate Ryan asks. “Smith couldn’t hold his alcohol. Who’s next?”
