Page 17 of How to Score Off Field

“He must be saving his money for the bachelor party tomorrow night. You know how that goes,” she says. “All you bros buying their bro the next round and trying to look cool.”

“Bros buying bros beer.” I lament. “Actually, I don’t. I’ve never been to a bachelor party before.”

Her eyes get wide at my confession.

“What? Are you serious? You’ve actually never been to a bachelor party before?”

“No, ma’am. None of the guys I hang around with at the moment are even engaged. Only a few of them are dating.” I lean back against the porch rail, crossing my legs at the ankles. “Guess most of them are saving themselves until we graduate, although I reckon that sometime soon at least one of my older brothers will get engaged?”

I phrase it like a question, saying the words out loud for the first time. I don’t like to think about my two older brothers getting engaged, then married, then possibly having kids—do they even want kids.? We don’t talk about it often, but it popped into my mind for whatever reason. Shit, even Drake could get himself hitched in the near future.

“Let me paint you a picture, then, since you haven’t been to a bachelor party before.” Tess clears her throat and tosses her hair, and when she does, my eyes follow the long hair spilling over her shoulders and down to her breasts. “Picture a raunchy version of a fraternity party,” she tells me as I raise my eyes back to her face. “Men acting just as dumb but with more spending money, daring each other to do dumb shit, like go up to a woman for cash—for the groom of course—or drinking themselves into oblivion. Or they just go golfing.”

“So either they go out and act stupid or they go golfing?”

“Mostly acting stupid. Driving the golf carts too fast or tipping them. Grady was at a stag party last year and someone drove the cart into the pond. They were blacklisted after that and can’t return.”

Huh. “I didn’t know Grady golfed.”

To be fair, a shit ton of my buddies actually do golf in their downtime. But I didn’t know my friends from back home did. Maybe tomorrow morning we can take in nine holes…

“He doesn’t.”

Nevermind, then.

“So what about you?” I ask. “What are you doing in town?”

“Here for the bachelorette party.”

I rack my brain for a follow-up question.

Um.

This shouldn’t be so difficult. I’ve gone on plenty of dates with strangers and was able to make idle small talk, so why is coming up with something to talk about with Tess so damn difficult?

Because she’s better looking than you remember.

She’s older.

Not the kid you remember.

Beautiful.

I shift uncomfortably. Stop thinking about your best friend’s sister. Bro code, dude.

Has she changed all that much, or did I just never notice?

Her tank top is bright green—like fresh-cut grass—and her shoulders tan. The fabric dips in front, giving me a glimpse of her cleavage.

She’s wearing jeans and looks the kind of casual that comes with being comfortable in your own skin and comfortable in your clothes because they fit well.

“And then I’ll stay with Miranda because I have no desire to be at home with my parents this weekend.”

Her mouth is moving, but I barely hear a word coming out of it.

“I’m sorry, what?” I have the audacity to ask and feel like a fucking tool for doing so.

She looks as confused as I feel, tilting her head to the side as she regards me. “You asked what I was doing in town this weekend?”

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