Page 115 of Stolen Summer

My best friend knew me well. I chewed on my lip, fumbling with the corner of a page. “What if he doesn’t make me happy?”

“Are you happy now?”

I pressed my lips together. “Good point.”

Abandoning the closet, she rummaged through our dresser, pulling out undergarments and a pair of black leather shorts. “Come to the party with me. Have a good time. Get drunk.” She grinned at me, walking backward into the bathroom and leaving the door open. “Maybe seeing him again will put things into perspective.”

Did I want to see him?

My heart rate kicked up in my chest, and I took that as a yes. This was insane. I chewed on my lower lip. “Do you know if he will be there?”

“Cole said he rarely goes out,” she said, her voice projecting into the bedroom.

Ceasing fidgeting with the textbook, I looked at the bathroom door. “You talked to Cole?”

Frankie appeared in the doorway in the black shorts and a bralette with a smirk gracing her lips. “Yes, and we both agree you need to get out of this room.”

My stomach knotted weirdly at learning they talked about me, I had a feeling I wouldn’t be getting any work done tonight, and I didn’t want to spend it with my distracted thoughts. Going out meant I’d risk seeing Crew, and the thought should fill me with something other than a flutter of excitement. “Fine,” I conceded. “But I’m dipping the moment things get weird.”

Happiness bloomed in Frankie’s features. A grin curled on her lips, making me rethink my decision as she squealed, bounding into the room and onto the bed. I quickly grabbed my laptop before it crashed to the floor. She took the book from my lap and closed it with a snap before tossing it aside. “Let’s find you something to wear,” she said, unable to hide her buzzing of excitement.

It made me realize I should have gone out with her more. Not every night, obviously. “If it isn’t comfortable, I’m not going.” Between the weather and my mood, my energy levels were suffering. A night out might be good for my mental health.

Frankie eyed the closet. She’d have to get creative because I didn’t bring what she considered drop-your-panties clothes. She jumped from the bed after inspecting the options for a minute. “My most difficult client.” She plucked two pieces from the hangers and tossed them on the bed beside me. “Try it on.”

Her outfit for me was a cropped one-shoulder hoodie and my favorite pair of jeans. I could work with this. Frankie wore her leather booty shorts and see-through button-up blouse. It didn’t take us long to get dressed, but my best friend wasn’t finished with me yet. She wouldn’t let me leave the house without a little makeup, and I let her fuss with my hair.

An hour later we stood outside the Kappa Chi house, a large colonial brick two-story building with six white columns flanking the front door on either side. The rain had let up, the clouds spitting only a fine mist, but light spilled from all the windows, cutting through the darkness. People were already scattered everywhere. A bonfire burned off to the side of the house, the flames flickering high as a group of idiot guys did what they did best, tended the fire by playing with gas and matches. I made a mental note to stay away from the bonfire regardless of how tempting the heat was. I didn’t want all my hair singed off my body.

Music filtered onto the streets, but for once, it wasn’t obnoxiously booming. I could actually hear Frankie when she said, “We should have a safe word.”

Snuggling deeper into my cream hoodie, I stuffed my hands into the front pocket. “For what? Is there something about this party I don’t know about? Because if you took me to some kinky, sex orgy, I’m going home now.”

She rolled her eyes, slipping an arm through mine. “That’s on Sunday nights.”

I stepped over a puddle as we climbed the stairs. “I don’t know if you’re joking or not.”

“I meant a safe word or signal if you need to be saved from all the guys you’re going to attract tonight.”

“I’m not a honey bee luring all the worker bees.”

Frankie’s siren-red lips curved. “No, bitch, you’re the queen fucking bee.”

I resisted slightly, dragging my feet as she pulled me along. “I’m not sure that makes sense.”

Despite the front porch being large, the area still felt cramped with the number of people hanging about. Two bouncer-like dudes stood on either side of the propped-open front door. “Hello, ladies,” the one on the left greeted. He looked like a linebacker, all muscles and game face.

Frankie flashed a card from her pocket, which had me giving her a funny glance. Where had she gotten it? More importantly, what was it? Some kind of admittance card?

Satisfied, the scrawnier guy on the right grinned. “Now, the question is do you want beer or punch?”

“Surprise me,” I replied, not having a preference tonight.

He handed us two black cups.

We entered the foyer, the music a bit louder. If I closed myself off in a room, it would be a pleasant, muffled sound, the perfect background ambience for curling up with a book. I doubted Frankie would let me sneak off and see if this place had a library. It was big enough.

Frankie surveyed the room like it was her personal dessert bar and she was deciding what flavor of sweets she wanted to put in her mouth. “So, my friend, do you want to dance, check out the house, mingle, or get laid?”

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