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“Girl, we’re supposed to go to the bar tonight.” She sighs, flopping down on my bed.
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“We were all talking about it in the kitchen. Riley said she’d let you know.”
I laugh loudly.
“There’s the first problem.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Girl, she cornered me in the kitchen today. Telling me I was not to touch what’s hers.”
Delaney’s eyebrows raise. “Did she really?”
“One hundred percent. As if I’m trying to get with my brother’s best friend. This isn’t some smutty romance novel.” I scoff.
“It could be,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at me.
“Absolutely not,” I say, laughing.
“You should read a couple sometime. I’ve got a list of authors. Cala Riley, Kandi Steiner, Nyla K, Lindsey Powell.” I watch her ticking authors off on her fingers while I try not to roll my eyes.
“Loan me a couple and I’ll see what all the hype is about.”
“You’re going to thank me later. Do you need a new vibrator, too?” She smirks.
“You’re so stupid.” I laugh, throwing a pillow in her direction.
“I’m serious. These are some one-handed books.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Okay, okay. That’s enough.”
We’re both laughing when Mitch opens the door, peeking his head inside.
“Do I even want to know?”
“That Delaney reads her books one-handed? I’m not sure. Do you want to know that?” I laugh.
“If that means what I think it means, then maybe I should be reading the same books you are.” He laughs.
“Can we help you?” Delaney asks.
“I came to see if you guys were ready, but I can see that you’re not.”
“I’ll be ready in five,” I tell him, hopping up from the bed.
“I’m ready,” Delaney says, walking towards the door.
After they close the door behind them, I dig through my suitcase until I find something to wear. I’m a light packer. I don’t usually want a lot of things to choose from when I’m getting dressed.
I pull out one of my favorite emerald green cropped tank tops from my bag. It has spaghetti straps and an opening right above my belly button. I don’t work my ass off in the gym several times a week to not show off my body. After I’ve pulled out a pair of black jeans with some rips in the legs and my favorite pair of black boots, I’m almost ready to go.
“Are you done in there?” Delaney asks from outside the door.
“Almost, just gonna throw on some lip gloss,” I yell back.
I don’t usually wear a lot of makeup, but I do put a little of my favorite gloss on, grab my phone and credit card, shove them both in my pocket, and head out into the kitchen.
