Page 100 of How to Win the Girl

His head swivels. “How do you know this?”

“’Cause. She told me.”

“Bro.” Drew leans back, shooting me a poignant stare, resting his arm on the back of the seat. “Are you stilltalkin’to her?”

Shit.

I forgot I wasn’t supposed to have contact with her anymore.

“She messaged me thinking I was you, so I responded.”

Drew looks out the front window, staring across the street. He nods.

“Okay. I’ll take her to a frat party if that’s what she wants.”

He starts the engine with a whistle, the matter settled.

“That’s it?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted me to say?”

“Yes.”

No.

I wanted him to argue and tell me he just met her and doesn’t like her nearly enough to subject himself to a fucking fraternity party. A house full of douchebags isn’t his scene, nor is it mine, but here we are.

What a clusterfuck.

“Then why do you sound so bent?”

“I don’t.”

My brother laughs, pulling out into the street and hanging a left, driving in the direction of the gym.

“You’re coming—obviously.”

“That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

…I wouldn’t mind being in a Drew and Drake sandwich.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, turning my head so I can stare out the window and not at my brother’s smiling, happy face.

“Tough shit,” he tells me cheerfully, resuming his whistle. “What are you so pissed off about, anyway?”

“I’m not pissed off.”

He grunts. “How long has it been since you’ve gotten your pole waxed?”

Too long.

But letting Shannon or any other random suck my dick holds zero appeal to me now.

“None of your business,” I tell him. “How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?”

For whatever reason, he finds this hilarious, tipping his head back and laughing, reaching to turn the radio on. “Long enough, but things seem to be turnin’ around.”

Damn.

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