“Okay. Go easy on the whiskey this time,” I tease.

She scoffs before strolling away into the kitchen.

“So…you left a few things out of our last conversation, huh?” Anderson asks me once she’s out of sight.

I chuckle. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know what exactly I was going to do, and I had to straighten things out for myself first.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Although, I have to ask. You’re going to be…what? A king now?”

“I guess,” I respond. “To be honest, I don’t know how any of the royalty stuff works. We haven’t had a chance to discuss any of it.”

“Ah, didn’t do much talking after the game, then?” Anderson grins.

I flip him off, and he’s still laughing when Owens suddenly joins us.

“Dawson!” he crows.

“Hey, man,” I greet. “Nice job out there today.”

“I could say the same to you,” Owens replies, waggling his eyebrows. “That was quite the show you and the princess put on.”

“You guys need to find a new hobby besides gossiping about my love life.”

“I’ve already got bets going on how many of us get invited to the royal wedding. Odds on Owens and me are 2-1, by the way. Don’t let us down or it’ll be fucking embarrassing,” Anderson informs me.

I choke on a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“I never joke about bets. You know that, Dawson,” Anderson replies.

“You are getting married, right?” Owen asks.

“Yes,” I confirm.

“Thank God,” Owens replies. “My mom already told all of her book club friends, so if she finds out I was wrong, she’ll be…”

“Wait, what?” I interject. “Why was your mom asking if I’m getting married?”

“I guess you didn’t bother to watch the news after the game, either,” Anderson remarks dryly. “You and Vivienne are the lead story everywhere.”

Owens nods. “Even the sports networks are covering it. Which makes sense, because you’re—you know, you—but they don’t normally report on celebrity gossip. My mom heard about the wedding from my dad, who’s never watched anything but a sport channel in his life.”

I rub my forehead. “I need a drink.” They both laugh as I follow them in the direction of the kitchen.

“Grab a beer and then let’s play some pong,” Anderson suggests as we reach the doorway.

“Holy fuck, Dawson,” Owens comments as we enter the crowded kitchen. Viv is standing with her back to us amongst a group of girls, gesturing with her hands. She’s taken off her leather jacket, revealing her short dress dips even lower in the back than the front. Every guy’s gaze in the room is glued to her, including two of my best friends.

“Yeah, I’d tell the Sharks to fuck off for that too,” Anderson offers.

I ignore them both and head over toward Viv. The only person I recognize in the group is her former roommate Katie, whose eyes widen as I walk over.

I don’t stop until I’m directly behind Viv. I drop my chin on the top of her head and wrap my arms around her waist. She relaxes against my body, turning her head to grin up at me. I drop a quick kiss on her lips. They taste like whiskey, and I look down to see she’s clutching a red cup filled with the amber liquid.