“How goes your quest, little bit?”

“Huh?” Is he asking about my fantasies?

“Have you gotten any further than first base? Met any dudes? Added anything to your notebook?”

“Um.”

“Have you actually talked to a guy yet? One not living in this house?”

“Well, no.”

He gives an exaggerated sigh. “I didn’t think so. You need to come out with us tonight. We’re going to a party, and you can scope out your first victim.”

I leave the door open and cross back to my bed to sit down. I’ve been around long enough to know that Shane is just getting started. “No way. I am horrible at parties.”

He comes in and leans on my dresser. God, if the towel accidentally caught on the dresser knob, it would pull right off him, and then I’d get a look at his...knob.

“Little bit, are you having impure thoughts about me?” He laughs. God, he’s got a great laugh. “You totally are. That’s awesome. And yes, you are coming to the party tonight.”

Every party I’ve ever been to has been monumentally awkward. Starting with Mindy Hansen’s first grade birthday at McDonald’s. “You don’t want me there. I will ruin the vibe. Trust me.”

“You are coming. Guys are basically stupid. They need to see you getting flirted with to open their eyes. Then they will make their own play. Trust, little sister. We got you covered.”

“This sounds suspiciously like going to prom with a cousin from two towns over. Or a cheesy teen movie plot. Let me guess. You and Fletch are going to pretend that I’m totally hot, and then all your little friends will fall all over themselves trying to get into my pants, and all the girls will be jealous and start talking to me to get my secrets.”

“Basically.”

“Not going to happen.” I scooch up the bed and sit with my legs crisscrossed. “Besides, in all the movies, the girls actually pull some kind of mean stunt, and I’d be embarrassed by them in public somehow.”

“In all the movies, you still get the guy in the end.” He crosses over to my closet and flings the door open.

“What are you doing?”

“Picking out your clothes for tonight.”

“Uh. No.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“I have nothing in there that will work at a party.”

“I can see that. We can fix this, though. You have any scissors?”

I’m sure my eyes are huge. “You can’t be seriously considering cutting my clothes.”

“We have some in the kitchen junk drawer.” He pulls out a shirt with our school letters on it. “Do you know about makeup? I don’t know anything about makeup. Maybe Fletch does. He had a serious girlfriend for about a year. He probably watched her get ready for shit.”