Page 6 of Raine Out (Grand Slam 2)

“I let guys in.”

“Really?” She raises her eyebrows as she stares down at me. “Since when?”

“I had a date last week,” I say, looking away from her.

“Girl, I can tell when you’re lying even if you’re not looking at me. Your voice goes up at least two octaves.”

I spin my head back around to her. “Okay then, a guy asked me out last week. Is my octave level better now?”

“Yes, much better.” She smiles and tilts her head. “Who asked? And why did you say no?”

“I didn’t say no. I told him I’d think about it—”

“At least two octaves,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Maybe three. And your right eye’s twitching.”

“God, I hate that my best friend’s a CIA interrogator. It’s really inconvenient.”

“Then tell me the truth, weirdo. Who asked you out?”

“A guy at Chipotle,” I say, trying not to smile as she starts laughing. “Shut up! He heard me speaking Spanish and told me he liked Mexican women.”

“What?” She’s laughing so hard now that she shakes Mo off her chest. He looks up at her and grunts. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. I forgot you were dining. Did you tell the guy you weren’t Mexican?”

“Why bother? You know that kind of guy. I don’t think he knows the difference between someone of Mexican or Indian heritage. His IQ level was not a match.”

“I think he was probably lacking a lot more than sufficient IQ numbers,” she says as she reattaches Mo. “And anyway, no one’s IQ level is a match for yours, Miss Genius Level.”

“I’d settle for someone getting close. Maybe even someone who’s read a book in the last month so we’d have something to talk about. Honestly, I don’t know why I bother. I don’t even find any guys attractive right now.”

“Except my dad—”

“What?” I roll away from her like she tried to attack me.

“Raine,” she says, grabbing my arm to prevent me from falling off the bed. “C’mon. I know you have a crush on him.”

“Oh my God. How long have you known?” I groan. “Does anyone else know?”

“I’ve known since the day you met him,” she says. “You talk about him—and to him—like all of my high school friends did. Honestly, I’ve never had a girlfriend who didn’t have a crush on him. And everyone knows—everyone.”

“Not Mack though, right?” I feel my cheeks starting to burn. “Please tell me he doesn’t know.”

“Of course he knows. Do you think he doesn’t notice the way you look at him? It’s not a big deal. Believe me, he’s used to it.”

I pull the pillow over my face and groan again.

“It’s fine, Raine. You know it’s impossible to embarrass him. He loves you.”

“I always make everything so awkward with men,” I mumble into the pillow.

“You do not,” she says, trying to pull the pillow off my face. I keep a firm grip on it. “You’re completely normal and confident around these guys.”

“These guys, yes. Because they’re not possibilities.” I peek above the pillow. “The minute a hot guy starts hitting on me, I become an idiot. Do you remember Kyle back at the agency? I was fine when we were just hanging out, then he asked me to dinner, and I fell apart.”

She pulls the pillow down further. “Oh my God, I forgot about him. You did kind of implode. I thought you just didn’t like him like that.”

“I really liked him. It’s my pattern. I’m the picture of confidence when I’m just buddying up to guys, but when they show any kind of interest, the confidence disappears.”

She squints at me. “So are you taking Butch to the wedding as kind of a shield? To protect you from having to interact with real possibilities?”

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