Page 116 of Headstrong Like Us
Xander bites his thumbnail and spits it out on the sand. “You think they’re having more fun over at the nightclub?”
“No way. We’re the coolest.”
He actually smiles.
Mention of Farrow and his bachelor party makes me wish he were here. I glance over at the entrance, my heart clenching.
Xander cranes his neck. “Uh, is that a stripper?”
I follow his gaze. Security is escorting the three strippers out of the bar. “Yep. We have no clue who hired them.”
“I bet it was an online prank.”
My brows furrow. “Yeah?”
He nods. “Seems like an internet joke. Send strippers to Maximoff Hale’s bachelor party.”
Great.
Thanks for the strippers. You can have them back.
I shake my Rainbow Brigade bracelet further down my wrist. Kinney gave the black and rainbow-colored bracelets to me, Farrow, Oscar, and Tom for tonight, and she shot our dad an epic death-glare as she did so.
I have a lot of cousins. You know that, and you also know our ages and who is here.
Xander, 16.
Ben, 17.
Tom and Luna, 19.
Eliot, 20.
Charlie, Beckett, and Sulli, 21.
Jane, recently turned 24.
Missing in action are the four youngest girls: Winona and Vada, 15—and Kinney and Audrey, 14. You’ve been wondering why. What you don’t know: the girl squad wasn’t invited to the bar, just on the fact that they’re under-16. It wasn’t just my rule.
That was all of our parents.
I had a bachelor “brunch” this morning with the younger girls so they could feel included.
Luna jogs up to the wicker lounge area. “Xander, come dance!” She tries to pull my brother off the couch.
I leave my lemonade and stand up.
“There are people watching.” Xander reluctantly shakes her off. He wants to dance.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” Luna begs. “I’ll block you. Human shield.” She outstretches her arms. My smile grows, and my brother is smiling too.
I grab his hand. “Come on, Summers.” He rises as I tug him up, and I sling an arm around his toned shoulders and mess his hair.
“Just one song!” Xander shouts, but he’s bouncing his head to the beat. He has really good rhythm like Luna, and alone at our house, he’d be breakdancing by now.
Right as we step onto the sandy floor, heads start whirling—but not in our direction. Everyone’s attention and bubbling excitement is plastered at the entrance. On a parade of familiar bodyguards.
SFO is here.
