Page 9 of Official

I lift my short glass to my lips for a drink, staying out of the sibling duel of bickering as I revel in my relief. The burning tequila slides down my throat with ease, and it tastes even better now that I’m free. Considering the hold her dad has on her, I don’t suspect I’ll be hearing from Zoey anymore, much to my benefit.

I’m fine with confrontation when I break up with women—not that our relationship is so serious as to warrant a full discussion. Usually, a text will do, as that’s the mutually agreed-upon extent of how serious we ever are.

It’s the aftermath—the long succession of pleading messages I receive a week or two later—that makes me uncomfortable.

It helps that I’ve usually already moved on to someone new by then.

I lick my lips and speak up. “Do we need to wrestle for the title?”

“Title?” Sam quirks her eyebrow at me and purses her lips. I’ve hung out with her plenty of times to know it’s her I’m-binge-drinking-because-I’m-pissed-off look.

It doesn’t happen often. She claims the empty calories aren’t always worth it, but every now and then, the unfairness of the world wreaks havoc on her positivity. When that happens, she turns to tequila.

But tonight is much, much worse than a shipment of dicks printed on her merchandise or walking in on two people doing it in her bed after a wild party.

So, I make this quick.

“The title of who buys the rest of the drinks for the night,” I explain with a sly lift of my lips.

Teddy cuts his eyes at me and tosses back, “Or, we can just dig intoyourdeep pockets to pay for the drinks.”

“And shots,” Sam adds, curling her long fingers around her new drink. “I need something stronger. My phone is still going off, and I barely have a damn buzz.”

“Turn your phone off.” Teddy snatches her phone and digs into her miniature backpack—one so small it’d be more useful to an elementary school girl—but freezes. “Oh, fuck.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“Mom called and wants you to take Reggie to the vet tomorrow.”

“Not a chance am I going anywhere near that mangy lizard.”

I hold a finger up. “Lizards don’t actually get mange since it’s usually caused by parasitic mites in mammals. It’s rare—”

“Dude.” My friend shakes his head at me and puts a hand up on one side of his face to shield himself from Sam’s wrath.

Her glare is pinned on me as strong and fierce as a bad tattoo. “As I was saying, I’m not going anywhere near thatdisgustinglizard. Is that better?” she asks, directing her rhetorical question toward me.

Their parents brought home the lizard from the pet store last month like they were bringing home a newborn baby. It was wrapped in a blanket and everything. Teddy showed me pictures, or else I wouldn’t have believed it.

The lizard was the newest addition to the reptile wing of their house, joining Rattle the frog and Rico the snake—their parents are cooky like that.

“Why can’t they take Reggie?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know. I only have the information in this text, which is what I just told you.”

Sam grabs the phone from him and stuffs it into her backpack as Teddy’s phone goes off.

“Oh, yes,” he draws out, tapping on the screen. “I need to go.”

Sam and I both whip our heads toward him.

“What happened to drinking all night, man?” I furrow my brows.

“Nature calls, and by nature, I mean my dick.”

“What?” Sam’s sip spills down her chin, and she uses the back of her hand to wipe it off, her pale pink nails bright against her tan skin.

“Bianca’s home alone for the first time all day and wants to get it on.” He wiggles his brows, gulps down the rest of his drink, and stands.

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