Page 41 of Fighting Fate

Before I can respond, she yawns, the fatigue of the day evident. She snuggles her head back against my chest, her voice soft and reflective. "I can't believe I was so close to picking a different college than my best friend."

Best Friend.

That term strikes a chord deep within me, almost like the universe knew I needed that wake-up call. Softly, I plant a kiss atop her head, pulling her into a firm hug. "Yeah, me too, Mills," I whisper back.

The next two weeks are a whirlwind of activity. Between classes, perfecting a new dance routine for the upcoming home game, helping out the Hanmann sisters, and adjusting to my new role as a tutor, time flies. However, the "mystery" senior I am supposed to tutor still hasn't shown up. It seems odd to me—if I were in their shoes, I'd be all over arranging sessions, especially if I was a senior struggling in a freshman class. But then again, not everyone operates like I do.

"Finally, our monthly margarita night is back!" Brooke exclaims, her voice tinged with nostalgia for our high school tradition. Since freshman year, we've had these DIY margarita nights, always timed for when our parents were out. It was our little secret indulgence.

"RIGHT?!" Payson's voice is loud with excitement as she settles onto her bed. I'm lounging in my egg chair, while Brooke makes herself comfortable on my bed, forming a cozy circle.

"I still can't believe we skipped it last month," Payson says, and I feel the same. Skipping our monthly margs is unusual for us, but we had all agreed to focus on settling into our new routines first. Now, with October rolling in and Halloween around the corner, we decide to spice things up with a Spooky Citrus Margarita. And it's a hit.

"This is amazing," Brooke declares.

I laugh and raise my glass. "Definitely a 20 out of 10 on this one."

"We're like the perfect team," Payson muses. "I'm the tequila, Brooke's the lime juice, and Milli, you're the orange juice. Separately unique, but together, we're a killer combo."

I can't help but smile. "Why am I orange juice, though?"

Payson takes a sip of her margarita, grinning. "Because orange juice is sweet, just like you, Milli Sutton."

Our banter is interrupted by the TV announcer's voice. "Let's appreciate the Panthers' strong start this season."

Payson groans. "Football on margarita night?"

"Well, I can't make it to the game to cheer them on—it being an away one and all," I explain. "This is the next best way to show my support."

"Can we at least turn it down?" Payson asks, and I quickly agree. The constant talk about the season and NFL draft picks is starting to encroach on our girls' night vibe. Sure, I should probably be more invested, considering Luke and Miles' prospects, but missing out on the game chatter for one evening won't hurt.

After we turn the volume down, our chat drifts from football to more personal topics. We spend the hour catching up on recent happenings, not just the usual high school and family updates. Payson has us in stitches with her story about her RA duties, especially the part about walking in on a freshman in a compromising situation. We all knew Payson's time as an RA would be filled with such weird and funny encounters.

Then Brooke surprises us with her news—she's joined a sorority. Payson and I are taken aback; it is so unlike her. But she explains how a chat with a classmate led her to try it out, and now she is part of Aurora Theta Gamma, known for their charity work. It seems like a perfect fit for her.

When I mention my new tutoring role, Payson and Brooke exchange looks that say, "We knew you'd do it." Our conversation then shifts to our classes and coursework.

"So, he's in your stats class?" Payson asks, refilling our margaritas. The drinks are hitting the spot, the tequila making its presence felt.

"Yeah, he's either retaking it or left it for his senior year," I speculate.

Brooke chimes in, saying she had the option to take it later, too, but Payson quickly changes the subject.

"So, when are you and Miles going official?" she blurts out.

I roll my eyes, taking a sip of my drink. Clearly, her curiosity traces back to the bonfire night. Just thinking about that evening, Miles' touch, his kisses on my forehead—god, I crave more of it.

I shoot back playfully, "What about you kissing my brother, huh?" I want to flip the script a bit.

Brooke spits out her drink, laughing. Payson tries to deny it, but her blush says otherwise.

"You did enjoy it," Brooke teases.

Payson huffs. "I just made him back up his words."

"You looked pretty keen on his 'words'," I quip, earning more laughter from Brooke.

Their kiss was unexpected; they are so alike but can't stand each other. I steer our chat to our upcoming plans, including the Halloween party—our first in college.

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