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“Chill, man. I saw her in the library. She’s the one who approached me first.” He shrugs. “See how uptight you are? Like I said, you need to get laid.”

“Sorry. I get defensive about Blair. None of you deserve to breathe the same air as she does,” I mutter.

“Tell me how you really feel,” Cam says sarcastically.

“It’s nothing personal. I know you’d feel the same way if you had sisters.” I have two, and I’m so overprotective of them sometimes, I even annoy myself.

And I know I definitely annoy my sisters. They’re always rolling their eyes and telling me to butt out of their lives. Don’t they see I’m only watching out for them?

“Thank God I don’t.” Cam glances over at me when we come to a stop at a red light. “Let’s go out tonight.”

“No—”

“Yeah, it’s happening,” he interrupts, gunning the engine yet again before he glances over at the car sitting next to us. It’s full of girls, who are all watching us with blatant interest in their gazes. Cam grins and hits a button, his window sliding open. “Hey ladies.”

“Camden Fields!” they all shout, their voices getting louder when they notice me. “Knox Maguire! Oh my God! Can we have your autographs?”

Cam laughs. “How about you tell us where you’re going later tonight and you can get our autographs then?”

They squeal in delight, the driver rattling off the name of a local bar we frequent that’s downtown.

“See you then,” Cam calls, punching the gas the second the light turns green, his tires screeching.

“You’re unbelievable,” I say with a shake of my head as we speed down the street.

“They fucking love it. So should you. I can guarantee at least one of those girls will be flirting with you in the next couple of hours. Maybe you could sweet talk her back to our place and even convince her that you last longer than five minutes in the sack.”

“Fuck you,” I say good-naturedly, making Cam laugh.

I have an English assignment that’s due by midnight Wednesday, but hell, I’d rather go out tonight.

There’s always tomorrow.

THREE

JOANNA

“I don’t wantto go out,” I whine, snuggling deeper beneath the throw blanket I just draped over my upper half. I have a glass of wine, a cheese and cracker plate I just put together for myself and Netflix is cued up on my laptop. “I’m all cozy.”

My roommate Natalie rolls her eyes at me, resting her hands on her slender hips. We were dormmates our freshman year, and we’ve been living together ever since. We might not have a ton in common, but we get along great as roomies, which is rare. I know way too many people with roommate horror stories.

My biggest problem with Natalie is she’s always trying to push me out of my comfort zone, and that’s not really a flaw. That’s more on me than her.

“You’re turning into an old woman.” Natalie’s tone is accusatory, but I know she’s saying it out of concern. I take her in, noting that she’s dressed in a cropped white tank top that shows off her perfectly tanned skin and her flat stomach. The straight leg mom jeans she’s wearing make her butt look great. Her thick auburn hair hangs straight down her back and her full lips are covered in shiny gloss. Sometimes I sort of hate her because she’s so beautiful, but she’s too damn nice to hate.

“I am not an old woman.” My tone is haughty, giving me serious old woman vibes.

Natalie rolls her eyes. “You’re going out with me. We’ve been in school for almost two weeks and you haven’t come out to the bars once.”

“We’re juniors now. We don’t need to hang out at bars all the time,” I remind her, sounding like a prim, stuck-up nerd, when I’m really trying to sound like a responsible grown up who’s over the bar hopping antics.

“You’veneverhung out at bars. And why wouldn’t we hang out at bars? We’re finally twenty-one and of legal drinking age!” Natalie holds up the glass of wine she poured herself a few minutes ago, just before she downs half of it. “We should pre-party.”

“I am pre-partying.” I wave a hand at my plate before I grab a cracker and slice of cheese and take a bite. “And then I’m going to binge something on Netflix.”

“No more true crime.” She makes her way over to me and yanks the laptop out of my lap before I can stop her. “I’m tired of hearing about murderers all the time.”

“But I love—”murderers.

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