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“Olivia.”
“Livvie.”
They answer the phone together.
“I heard about Hope,” I snip at them.
“It’s not what you think,” Zeke says.
“Who’s Hope?” Levi asks.
“Who just throws away brownies? Not just brownies but the best brownies in town?”
“I’ll go get you brownies right now. Be there in five.” Levi says, and I can hear him moving around. Zeke laughs.
“Laugh all you want, but we’re going to a party tonight.” I slip that in real quick.
“Do not want to go to a fucking party,” Levi says in the background with a groan.
“Mom is always saying I need to be doing all these college things. Finding myself.” I roll my eyes over the last part. The only thing I want to find is their cocks while I’m between the two of them, but I keep that to myself so Erika doesn’t turn cherry red. I’ve got to ease her into this sex girl talk stuff.
The guys grow quiet on the other end of the line.
“You all still there?”
“Yeah, we'll take you,” Zeke relents, but he doesn’t sound thrilled.
“We’venever even gone to one of these parties,” Levi sighs in the background.
“I guess it will be a first for us all.”
CHAPTER11
LEVI
After ten minutesof having my feet stepped on, beer spilled down my jeans, and my package being surreptitiously felt up by at least three different girls, I’ve come to the conclusion that a college party is basically a high school party on steroids. There’s more booze, more people, and louder music, but it’s pretty much the same thing we had going on back home. Except at home, we mixed better. It was a small town and so we couldn’t stand together in groups according to what our activities were. We all played ball. We all were in choir—well, Zeke and I dropped it after seventh grade—but the point is that we all did it or there wouldn’t be enough people for football or basketball or a play. So we all hung out with each other—the jocks, the smart kids, the drama kids, the potheads.
It’s not the same in college. I think I’m supposed to be in the back doing beer bongs with my teammates and Zeke’s supposed to be huddled with the hackers playingLeague of Legends. I’m not sure where Livvie should be. No. She belongs here next to me or beside Zeke. Too many assholes are looking in our direction. I want to throw a sheet over Livvie’s head and carry her out of here, but she’s bopping her cute, little head.
“Do you want to dance?” she yells to the roommate.
The roommate’s face turns from interested to horrified in a second. She shakes her head so hard I think it’s going to come off her neck.
“But you love dancing,” Livvie protests.
“Not in front of all these people,” the roommate says. She hunches her shoulders inward as if she wants the floor to swallow her whole.
“All right. If you don’t want to, I won’t make you.” Livvie can’t completely disguise her disappointment.
“You’re up, Levi,” my brother says. “Or she’s going to go out there on the dance floor by herself and then some guy will think that’s an opening and then we’ll get thrown out for beating him up.”
I let out a frustrated groan because that’s exactly what will happen. It’s not that I hate dancing. I don’t mind it. The problem here is that Livvie’s body looks fucking sick in her jeans and tricked out T-shirt—not the pink one that says she’s the property of the Audley twins—but a different one that matches with the roommate.
“I’m about to come in my jeans just watching her and you want me to go out there and let her grind on me?” I ask in exasperation.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I expect you to do. I got you this though.” He produces a red cup filled with ice cubes.
I take it but throw my brother a look of confusion. “You want me to look like I pissed my pants?”
