Page 18 of Miss Understood

“Hey, guys, you ready to hit another bar?” Mateo asks. “Nate’s just drunk enough to want to party.”

“I’m always in the mood to party!” Nate throws an arm up with a howl.

“Like I said. . . ” Mateo laughs, giving Nate a kiss on his neck. “Drunk.”

Nate ignores him and gets in my face. “Truth or dare?”

“What?”

Mateo plants a hand on Nate’s chest and directs him to take a step back. “Sorry,” he says. “We like to play when we’re drunk. And after enough drinks, my honey here forgets that not everyone’s in on it.”

“I’ll play,” Luce cheers next to me, bobbing up and down. Those perfect breasts bounce and I have to force myself not to stare.

“Yessssss!” Nate throws both arms into the air now. When he lowers them, he wraps one around Luce’s shoulders and brings his forehead to her temple. “You’re on. Truth or dare, baby doll?”

Luce purses her lips as she thinks it over. Her stare is fixed on me, and I realize I’m still holding her waist, and the four of us are in a close circle.

“Dare,” Luce decides.

“Love it. Feisty,” Nate says, clapping his hands.

He looks around, reaches for a shot glass off a passing tray, and hands it to her.

“Take a shot.”

“Easy enough.” She downs it in one gulp and shakes her head like it’ll make the burn go down easier.

Shot number three in the last thirty minutes. This has trouble written all over it.

Fucking Vegas.

“What about you, big boy?” Nate turns those devious eyes to me, and it feels like the music gets louder. The room is vibrating, and my brain is swimming in alcohol.

“Come on.” Luce nudges my arm. “Scared?”

She knows I won’t back down from a challenge, especially if she is the one issuing it. All right, here we go.

“Dare,” I say.

I should have known better.

7

Luce

Who’spoundingonthewall this early in the morning? Again and again. And why is it thumping between my temples like a sledgehammer?

Oh, God—or is that my head?

I try to open my eyes, but the light streaming in through the wall of windows blinds me.

Pulling the covers up and burying my face, I hide in the warm darkness, trying to remember how I got back to my hotel room last night. At a certain point in the evening, everything got really blurry. I’m pretty sure I spent a good few hours outside of my body, looking in.

We were all at the bar and it was still midafternoon. There was drinking and music. There were shots—lots of them. And dancing. Dirty, flirty dancing with my—

Crap.

Jesse.

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