Page 29 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

I purse my lips. “That’s an accurate description of my life, thanks.”

She snickers, then inelegantly stands from her noisy beanbag and walks over to stop in front of me. “We should go.” She looks to Sam. “Can anyone go? Is it invite only?”

“Sammy’s always on the invite list.”

Meg smiles at him triumphantly. “Seriously, a teddy bear. So, we should go. When’s the next one?”

“Next one’s tonight,” Marc grumbles. “And he said Sammy’s invited. Not you.”

She purses her lips at him, then she turns back to me. “He’s a bear too, huh? Just the grizzly kind.”

Laughter rumbles through Sam’s chest as he squeezes me tighter. He kisses my neck just below my ear, daringly nibbling on the lobe with his teeth. “You should come tonight, Ricci. I’d love to spend a Shed night with you.”

“We can’t do tonight,” Meg says before I can answer. “I literally met her today, so my daddy won’t believe me if I said we’re having a sleepover, but next weekend! We’ll definitely come next weekend.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not gonna happen. I’ve been asking for three years. It’s not going to happen.”

Sam chuckles again. “I told you guys I wasn’t wrong. She’s been asking for three years.”

Luc rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we know, Turner. When you know, you know.”

“And I knew.”

Angelo huffs impatiently. “Okay. Whatever. We need a name, and we need to practice.”

“Who cares?” Meg brushes him off. “What we need to do is lay the groundwork for next weekend.”

“I thought you were gonna sit in the corner and pretend you’re not here?” Marc snaps rudely. “I liked that two minutes of silence. It was… quiet.”

“Jesus, Junior. You really have a bee under your bonnet today, huh?”

“You gonna go to The Shed and find someone else to kiss, Meg? Struck out on Luc, struck out on me, Angelo’s not gonna slum, and Turner’s taken. Time to cast your net wider?”

“Holy shit, you’ve known me for three seconds, and you’re already calling me a whore?”

“I didn’t say whore.” He smirks. “But if the designer heels fit.”

“Yeah, well. That was a fun chat, jackass. Anyway.” She turns toward me and Sam. “You want your girl at The Shed next weekend, I could probably make it happen. You don’t want me there, well, that’s sucky and hurts my feelings a little bit, but whatever. Not everyone has to like me.”

Sam sighs against me. “The Shed ain’t a VIP club, Meg. Anyone can get in.”

She shrugs. “Well, like I said. Whatever. You guys can keep practicing or whatever, and I’ll go sit down and talk to my friends. I’ll lay the groundwork, me and Sammy will be having a sleepover next weekend, and your girl can finally know what it’s like to party after seven p.m.”

“You’d know what that’s like,” Marc snaps angrily, then uncharacteristically, he grabs a skateboard with a flourishing snap of his arm, and he heads out a side door.

Meg grits her teeth. “You know, I truly didn’t mean to piss anyone off. I’m not actually a bitch.”

Angelo’s eyes stay low and shadowed by his thick brows, and he absentmindedly draws on the note pad from earlier. “He’ll be alright, Meg. Probably don’t hit on anyone in front of him though.”

“Why? He doesn’t even know me. He isn’t my father, and he isn’t my boyfriend. Why should I watch who I talk to?”

Angelo looks up finally, meeting her gaze warily. “You don’t have to do anything. Like you just said, you don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you. I’m just saying, if you want him to stop scowling at you, maybe lay low. First impressions are important, and you just essentially dumped his best friend then jumped to him. Marc is all about loyalty, and he didn’t like what he just saw.”

She scoffs and turns toward the beanbag again. “The thing is, I don’t really care what he thinks. He’s a fifteen-year-old kid with some kinda bulldog complex. He doesn’t scare me.”

“I’m a fifteen-year-old guy with a god complex and sexy body. What does that make me?”

Meg looks over her shoulder at Luc, then turning away and taking out her phone again, she replies, “That makes you cute, Luca. But until you’re eighteen, it also makes you a big fat nope.” She turns back to me. “But don’t worry, no matter how grumpy Marc is, I promise I won’t snitch on you guys. You have my word.”

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