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“Nah, baby sis, I just don’t like getting trashed and then puking in the sorority girls’ toilet.”
She flips me the middle finger with her black manicured nail, but laughs, which quickly turns into a moan. “Shit, my head. There’s two of you. Why are there two of you? I can barely handle one.”
Holland throws her head back and laughs, and I narrow my eyes at her then Emery.
“You know, for being your knight in shining armor, you two sure are mouthy.”
Holland rolls her eyes and looks like she’s going to say something, but Emery speaks up instead. “My jerk of a frat douchebag boooooyfriend broke up with me so we took looooots of shots. Lots and lots of shots. I lost count.”
“Thank fuck, I thought I was gonna have to beat the shit out of the guy to get rid of him.”
“Shut up. He was nice… and smart.”
I laugh. “Yeah, just your type.”
I’m sure Em gets sick of my teasing, but it’s what we do. We talk shit to each other like it’s our religion. If Emery wasn’t talking shit to me on the daily, I’d think something was wrong.
“So, you want me to help you up or do you plan on sleeping here tonight?”
“I’m becoming one with the floor.” She groans.
I reach down and lift her off her feet, and she stands shakily on her heels. I toss my arm over her shoulder to steady her.
“Please do not puke in my truck or I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
I stop dead and look at her. “I’m serious.”
Even though I’m not. I chuckle and take the damp rag that Holland is holding out for me then wipe Em’s face. Em’s got her eyes closed and she’s looking a bit green, so I do her the favor of wiping some of the smeared makeup and dried throw up off, before handing it back to Holland.
Growing up, I’d been the one Em called when she needed someone. We didn’t have a dad, so she had me. I changed her tires in high school and beat the shit out of the guy that called her a slut after she wouldn’t sleep with him.
I’ve always done whatever I could to protect her, that’s what I’m here for. When we were kids, she’d follow me around and do everything that I did. She had a stick in her hand at five years old and could skate circles around most of my friends, even though we were eight and twice as big as her. My entire life she’s been my shadow and I guess there could be a worse best friend than your baby sister.
We walk out of the sorority house, down the concrete driveway and when we get to my truck, I pick Emery up and put her in the passenger seat.
She moans and groans the entire time, like she’s losing a damn limb.
“Sheesh, you're dramatic.”
“Runs in the family, I guess.”
I scoff. “That is about enough out of you tonight.” I grab the bucket Holland thought to grab and put it in Em’s lap then shut the door, silencing her protest.
When I’m done, I turn to Holland. Her deep blue eyes are filled with amusement at my expense, not Emery’s. She loves our banter.
Her arms are wrapped around her torso, hugging herself. For Christ's sake, I didn’t even realize she had this tiny top on; she’s got to be freezing. For some reason, at this moment, it dawns on me that I’ve never really… noticed Holland as anything other than my little sister’s best friend, until right now. Maybe it’s because she’s dressed in a crop top that shows more cleavage than I’ve ever seen her with or because the skirt she’s wearing makes me want to cover her up so no one can see how short it is. Or it could be the way that her legs look paired with those heels. Even though they’ve gotta be five-inches tall, she’s still at least half a foot, if not shorter, than me. Her long, blonde hair falls past her chest to her waist.
Fuck, she’sgorgeous.
That’s the last thing I should be thinking about, yet here we are. I’ve watched her grow from a boy-band crazed teenager into… this beautifulwoman.
A woman who is so off-limits, it’s not even funny.
What the hell are you thinking, Davidson?
Get your shit together.
