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of his hand and gave him a shove. His arms pinwheeled and then he fell backward…straight into the pool. Everyone on the patio laughed as the guy sputtered to the surface.
“Dude… What the fuck?”
I tipped the beer his way in salute and headed back to the lounger, ignoring his curses. A few minutes later, a cheer went up from inside and then Miller returned, looking like someone had pissed in his Cheerios.
“Well?”
“I acted like a possessive asshole, insulted her, and now she’s going to play that stupid closet game where River fucking Whitmore is going to kiss her. Maybe…more.”
“So it went well.”
He scowled at me.
“The night’s not over yet. Play the game too.”
Miller snorted. “Hell no.”
“You won’t play, but you’ll torture yourself by watching.” I tipped my beer. “Solid plan.”
“Fuck off. I have to stay and make sure she’s okay.”
That, I understood.
Miller grabbed his case and headed back inside. He took a seat in a corner of the living room in a circle of weed smokers, his guitar in his lap. I stood over him like a sentinel in case that prick, Frankie, showed up. Against my will, I scanned the crowd, my gaze snagging on a slim girl with bracelets sliding down her arms as she danced. My heart thudded dully, but the girl moved into a slant of light, showing pale skin and light brown hair.
“Dumbass,” I muttered.
“Hi!” A skinny blonde with long hair and a long dress plopped down beside Miller. “I’m Amber.”
“Miller,” he muttered.
“Are you going to play something for us?”
He ignored her, his eyes on the center of the living room to where some chick named Evelyn announced a Seven Minutes in Heaven game. I followed Miller’s hopeless expression right to his Violet. Pretty girl. Sweet face. My chest ached for him as she went into the closet with the King of the Jocks, River Whitmore.
“So that’s that,” Miller muttered.
I squatted on my heels beside him. “It’s just a game. Tell her when she comes out.”
“She’ll kiss him in there,” Miller said miserably. “Her first kiss.”
“Then kiss her better. But don’t let her go.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You have a girlfriend? Someone in Wisconsin?”
“I don’t do girlfriends.”
He frowned, and I knew what he was thinking—I was being awfully fucking chatty with the relationship advice. But just because I couldn’t have something real and good didn’t mean he shouldn’t.
Violet came out of the closet with a strange smile on her face. She shot a pained glance at Miller and he immediately pretended to give a shit about the skinny blonde beside him.
“Well?” Amber put her hand on his arm. “Do you know how to play that guitar, or is it just for decoration?”
I wanted to hear him too. I had a feeling whatever Miller had in him was better than the bullshit playing over the sound system.
Miller glanced around the living room. Violet wasn’t there anymore. The closet game had broken up and everyone had followed their football king into the kitchen.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, a pained look on his face. “Yeah, I’ll play. Why the fuck not.”
