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Bryce reaches down and pulls me to my feet easily. “Let’s give you a tour, then we need to hit the store.”
“Is this the kind of tour where I can join, or the kind that results in the horizontal tango?” Quinn smirks then snorts at her own stupid joke.
“Horizontal tango? Really, talk about throw back. What? Are we going to start using the term bump and grind too?”
“Bumping uglies.” She rocks her hips in a piston motion.
“Get your freak on!” I thrust my own hips at her.
“Hidin’ the salami,” she shoots back.
“Banging!”
“Can we stop this crazy fucking conversation? Bad enough I have to know it’s happening. Don’t need this shit running through my mind,” Nate spews. “Swear to God, sometimes I think you two are still sixteen.”
“Touchy, touchy… Maybe Nate needs to get previsto,” Quinn teases.
“Actually, Quinn, I’m pretty sure Nate’s getting laid frequently,” Bryce informs us.
Nate’s head snaps up, his eyes growing wide. “You did not say that in front of my sister.”
“Hey, man, I was sticking up for you.”
“Who is she?” Quinn questions, and Bryce grins, shrugging.
“Okay.” I throw my hands up. “This conversation is over. No more.”
“Agreed,” Nate mutters.
My phone vibrates in my pocket with an incoming text. It’s from my mom.
Mom: Want company this weekend? Michelle and I found an incredible deal on a flight. Thought we’d make a girls weekend… Game on Saturday, dinner and drinks Saturday night… Dress shopping on Sunday???
“Quinn, think our moms are invading this weekend.” I flash my phone to show her the message.
“Tell her we’re busy,” she jokes. “See how quick she calls in a panic.”
“Babe, Karen’s been talking to my mom about dress shopping for weeks. Even pressuring me to talk to you about it. Don’t fuck with her,” Bryce says in my ear. “Besides, I like the thought of you getting the dress. It’s one more thing done.”
I nod and text my mom back.
Me: Sounds terrific. We just got to Norfolk. Let me know your flight info so we can be there in time. Nate and I will call you tomorrow. Love you!
Mom: You too, honey.
“Only our moms would want to go dress shopping days after Thanksgiving,” Quinn huffs.
“I guess instead of bringing desserts, we could make a big salad.”
Both of us scrunch our noses at the same time and shake our heads.
Bryce leans down and whispers, “You don’t need to worry about burning calories. I’ve got that covered.”
A thrill shoots through me, and I lean into him. “I’m counting on it.”
Quinn starts humming the tune to “Let’s Get it On” by Marvin Gaye, and I shoot her a dirty look.
I can’t wait until next time Dean visits. She’s gonna pay.
