Page 105 of The Deal

“We’re not dating, but yes, he’s the friend I’m talking about,” I admit.

To my surprise, Tracy breaks out in a huge grin. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that? Of course I’m going to let you off the hook if it means you get to go and fuck Garrett Graham! Note to you—I will be living vicariously through you, because Oh. My. God. If that hottie so much as smiled at me, my panties would probably melt away.”

I don’t want to touch even a single part of that response, so I ignore it altogether. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She waves a hand. “My cousin is visiting from Brown, so I’ll just recruit her.”

“I heard that!” a female voice shouts from inside the room.

“Thanks for being so cool about this,” I say gratefully.

“No prob. Hold on a sec.” Tracy disappears, then comes back a moment later with her car keys dangling from her index finger. “Hey, so I don’t know how you feel about sex tapes, but if you get a chance, record every single thing you do with that boy tonight.”

“I most definitely will not.” I take the keys and grin at her. “Have fun tonight, babe.”

Back in my room, I grab my phone from the living room couch and text Garrett.

Me: You home?

Him: Yup.

Me: Bailing on the dorm crawl. Can I come by?

Him: Glad you came to your senses, baby. Get your ass over here.

29

GARRETT

When the front door creaks open, I’m more than a little apprehensive, because I half expect Hannah to appear in some ridiculous-ass costume in an attempt to spread the Halloween cheer and lure me to that dorm party.

Fortunately, she looks like regular-old Hannah when she pops her head into the living room. Meaning she looks fucking gorgeous, and my dick immediately salutes her. Her hair is tied in a low ponytail with her bangs swept to one side, and she’s wearing a loose red sweater and black yoga pants. Her socks, of course, are neon pink.

“Hey.” She flops down beside me on the couch.

“Hey.” I sling my arm around her and plant a kiss on her cheek, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

I have no idea if I’m the only one feeling this way, but Hannah doesn’t pull away, nor does she tease me about how fucking boyfriendly I’m acting. I take that as a promising sign.

“So why’d you flake out on the party?”

“I wasn’t in the mood. I kept picturing you crying here alone and pity won out.”

“I’m not crying, jackass.” I point to the boring-ass milk documentary that’s flashing on the TV screen. “I’m learning about pasteurization.”

She stares at me. “You guys pay money to subscribe to a gazillion channels and this is what you choose to watch?”

“Well, I flipped by it and saw a bunch of cow udders, and, well, you know, it turned me on, so?—”

“EW!”

I burst out laughing. “Kidding, babe. If you must know, the batteries in the remote died and I was too lazy to get up and change the channel. I was watching this wicked-awesome miniseries about the Civil War before cow udders came on.”

“You’re really into history, huh?”

“It’s interesting.”

“Some of it. Other parts, not so much.” She rests her head on my shoulder and I absently toy with a strand of hair that’s come loose from her ponytail. “My mom bummed me out this morning,” she confesses.

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