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With every day that passes, it’s becoming harder and harder for me to put on a convincing show with her sister.
33
ME
A couple weeks later
“Do you think Easton Rush is a good fuck?” The redheaded flute player ahead of me asks. “Like, on a scale of one to ten, how good do you think he is in bed?”
“Um…”
“He’s dating your sister, so youhaveto know.” She leans closer. “Twins tell each other everything, so I’m sure she’s told yousomethingabout his bedroom skills.”
“He’s probably a nine on an off-night.” The flute player on her left laughs. “He’s in my Psychology lecture hall this afternoon, so I’ll take some more secret shots of his bulge and let you know.”
“Has he caught you doing that yet?”
“No, but her sister shot me a glare the other day because she knew what I was doing.” She’s still laughing. “To be fair, I would probably be protective as fuck as well if I was bound to be his wife someday.”
“You haven’t answered my question yet, Scarlett.” The redhead waves a hand in front of my face. “How good do you think he is in bed?”
“I have no idea.” I force a smile. “He’s not mine.”
“He’s not ours either, so that’s why we’re speculating…Have you seen the video he and Tully put up last night?” She continues talking to the other girl, rendering me invisible. “He treated her to some private restaurant I’ve never even heard of, and it looked expensive.”
“He’s probably never breaking up with her, but a girl can keep snapping crotch pics and dreaming…”
As they laugh, I pull out my phone.
I’m telling Tully about us this weekend…Right after the game.
Easton
I thought we agreed to do that together?
I need to do it myself first. There’s a lot she needs to hear from me personally.
Easton
You’ll come to my room when you’re done?
If you don’t beat me to it and climb through my window first.
Easton
Good point. I’ll come over around midnight.
* * *
The following Saturday afternoon,I stuff my band uniform into its plastic wrapper and smooth the hat’s crimson plume.
Our home crowd is still roaring in the stadium behind me, as if today’s game isn’t long over. It’s another Alabama win in the books, which means getting out of this parking lot will require a delicate dance of dodging the drunk and the rowdy.
“Here’s my set.” I hold out the bag to my section leader. “Can you mark that I’ve turned it in?”
“No. I’ll do that when we get back to our facility, as usual.” She points to the bus. “Takeoff is in fifteen minutes, Crane.”
“I’m not riding back with the band today,” I say. “I have somewhere to be.”
