Page 2 of What It Must Be

The woman before me throws her hands up in surrender. “Woah, woah, woah. I didn’t call anyone a liar—I just meant to point out the fact that no mother is going to tell her child they have a horrible voice.”

“Well, for starters, I’m actually a pretty good singer, so her telling me otherwise would make her a liar,” I state.

“And second?” she asks.

“Second, what?” I shoot back.

“You said for starters, which usually implies there’s a second. But maybe you’ve just had too much Jameson tonight,” she points out as she nods toward the empty shot glasses before me. “What sorrows are you trying to drown out . . . what did you say your name was again?”

I cackle at her theatrics. “I didn’t. I’m Bennett,” I tell her, holding my hand out for her to shake. She looks down at it and narrows her eyes before gazing up at me through dark lashes. “And I’m not drowning my sorrows, just trying to help myself forget that I’m wearing this ridiculous outfit for my buddy’s bachelor party.”

“I don’t know, Benny. I think you look kinda cute,” she teases as she takes my hand.

Hearing her call me my nickname has me humming in response. “And you are?” I ask, trying to ignore the way her touch sends currents of warmth up my arm.

“Not sharing,” she tells me as a mischievous smile lights up her face.

“Playing hard to get, Little Red?” I rasp the question as her new nickname slips out.

Her eyes widen for only a second before they narrow slightly again. “Oh, Benny Boy, for some reason, I don’t think I’m the closed-off one between us.”

“Hmm,” I murmur. “Well, if you won’t tell me your name, tell me what brings you out tonight.”

“It’s my best friend’s twenty-first birthday. We’re staying on the lake for the weekend to celebrate,” she informs me.

“Tell me something else about you,” I request.

She picks up one of the beers the bartender just set down in front of us and tilts the neck of the bottle at me. “You’re pushing your luck, but I’ll play along. Hmm. Okay, I’ve got it. I fall into a slight depression every time I watch my favorite movie,” she admits.

I snort as I take a sip of my beer. “If it makes you depressed, why would it be your favorite movie?”

“Because my favorite movie is10 Things I Hate About You, and Heath Ledger was a generational talent that died far too soon,” she explains.

“Shit,” I mutter before agreeing. “He was a generational talent.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carson make his way over to the two of us. Red must notice too, because she says, “Come find me later, Benny.”

With that, she waves as she walks toward the front of the stage, where a group of girls wrap her in their embraces.

“Wilder, get your ass over here,” I command, my eyes remaining trained on her retreating form, as Carson immediately does as he’s told.

“What’s up,Benny?” he asks, singsonging my nickname like an asshat.

“You and I are going to sing a duet,Carsey,” I inform him.

“Yeah, as much as I’d love to give you the assist up on stage . . . I’m a shit singer,” he tells me.

“Do I look like I care if you’re the next American Idol? I wasn’t asking,” I deadpan.

Carson has always been intimidated by me, and I fully plan to take advantage of that now. “Right. Not asking. Cool, cool, cool. So, what exactly are we singing?”

Smacking him on the back, I call out over my shoulder, “You’ll see when we get up there.”

I watch as Carse beelines back to Griff and Jax while I go up to the emcee to add our names to the lineup for karaoke night. We’re first on the fucking list, but at least that means we don’t have to follow someone like Jackson.

The shots have me feeling warm and a bit hazy, but I’m still in control—just how I like it. As the captain of our team, I’ve quickly garnered the control freak label, but I’m more than okay with it.

Standing off to the side of the dance floor as I await our turn, I take in the groups of dancers. The bride-to-be, McKenna, is dancing with her two college volleyball teammates and Dakota.

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