Page 20 of How to Score Off Field

She’s about to protest, but I pull her.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she says over her shoulder to Drew. “We won’t be long.”

“Oh yes, we will,” I grumble under my breath as I slide the patio door open and step into my brother’s kitchen, my best friend hot on my heels.

I drag her through the house, up the back stairs, and to the second-floor bathroom off my brother's bedroom.

“Dude.” I close the door behind me. “What are you doing?”

My arms flap up and down in outrage.

“Stop arguing,” Miranda demands. “How did I not notice how dramatic you are?”

I pout, folding my arms across my chest. “What were you doing down there, trying to embarrass me? And wasn’t it you who said—and I quote, ‘Maybe don’t go for him. Go for someone else.’”

Miranda is silent for all of three seconds. “That was before I saw the two of you together.”

“Together…by the keg. We weren’t flirting. He wasn’t about to ask me out. Drew Colter has no interest in me.”

The smile on her face is smug. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

I’m still pouting. “This party is stupid. I want to leave.”

“You’re leaving over my dead body. You’re going to go back down there, find him, and flirt like a normal person.”

That makes me snort. “Like a normal person,” I repeat for lack of anything more clever to say. “If I knew how to flirt, that would be great. But I don’t, and neither does he, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Actually, I did notice him watching you. Why do you think I walked over? ’Cause you needed my assistance.”

I mean.

Maybe I did; maybe I didn’t.

“Maybe what you should do is get warmed up with someone else?” Miranda is by the toilet now, unbuttoning her pants and sitting to pee while I turn to look in the mirror, fussing with my long hair.

“Flirt with one of my brother’s friends? Uh, I’d rather stick my finger in a light socket. Have you seen who he hangs out with?”

“Yeah—hotties.” She wipes, pulls up her pants, and flushes. “You could do worse than a guy a few years older. That could be why you’re still single. Guys our age are just…” She pulls a face, sticking her tongue out. “You’re an old soul, Tess, and you probably always have been.”

This is true.

I am an old soul.

When I was younger, I’d rather sit in the kitchen when my parents had friends over and socialize with them than kids my own age. Or I’d sit home reading on Friday and Saturday nights while my friends were out toilet papering someone’s yard or at the beach sunbathing or going to the movies.

I’m rarely on social media.

“Look. Don’t worry about Drew. Yes, he’s good-looking. And yes, he’s probably going to be rich someday. But so what? Go downstairs and flirt with someone lame—who’s never going to move out of this town and will probably end up working for your brother.”

I narrow my eyes. “Screw you.”

Miranda laughs. “If you want to leave, we can leave. We’ll go grab pie and do some adult coloring at Maisie’s Pie House. Doesn’t that sound more fun than going back down to this stupid party full of people you’ve known all your life or new friends you haven’t met yet?”

I glare at her. I hate when she makes perfect sense. It’s annoying.

Friends I haven’t met yet.

“Are you gaslighting me into returning to the party and staying and trying to have fun?”

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