Page 84 of Borrow My Heart

Rule:No, seriously, always trust your first instinct.

“Chad!” I called when I finally saw him in the crowd of people in the backyard. We’d arrived about ten minutes ago and I felt like an imposter even though there were lots of people and nobody seemed to be paying much attention to us.

“I forgot how cute he was,” Zoey said, swiping a bottle of beer as we passed a red tub full of ice and drinks. She was only twenty, but apparently that wasn’t stopping her. My age was definitely stopping me at a stranger’s house in a place I didn’t know with our mother as the parent who’d have to save me from trouble.

“He’s too young for you,” I told my sister.

“Really? He’s underage?”

“Yes, and so are you,” I reminded her as she took a sip of beer. My sister wasn’t a drinker. Or at least, as far as I knew she wasn’t. I didn’t think today, with how she must be feeling, was a good time to start.

“Ugh, do you always have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Be so judgmental about everything?”

I flinched. Our mom had said pretty much the same thing last night, but coming from my sister, who rarely said a critical word, it hurt. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to.” Because I really wasn’t.

Chad must’ve heard my call because he weaved through the crowd, making his way to us. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “Glad you found it.”

“The internet makes it nearly impossible not to,” I said.

My sister blew air between her lips.

Was that the wrong thing to say too?

Chad and I both looked at her and she held her hands up as though that had been an accident. She’d already finished half herbeer.

A guy with long curly hair and a large nose sidled up to Chad. “Hey, cousin. Friends of yours?”

“Oh yes,” Chad said. “This is Wren and her sister. And this is my cousin David.”

“He is obviously not well practiced at introducing girls to people,” David said.

“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s not trying to impress me.”

“Actually, I think I am.”

I laughed, like it was a joke. It was a joke, right? Wait, Chad didn’t tell jokes.

David looked at me, his eyes lingering a bit too long, then finally said, “You look so familiar.”

“I don’t live here, so I doubt it.”

“Huh.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do people say that to you a lot? Maybe you look like someone famous.”

“No, they don’t. Sorry.” The only time guys had ever said that to me was when they were trying to pick me up or were trying to fill awkward silence. I hoped the former was not what was happening here.

“Weird,” he said with a shrug. “And there’s Christopher. See you later.”

“Do you guys want something to eat?” Chad asked. “There’s hamburgers and chicken, I think.”

I glanced at my sister, who had just finished her beer. “Do you want food?”

“What did you say to her yesterday?” she asked.

“What?” I asked. “Who?”

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