Over the hum of conversation and music, a giggle teased my ears. It was like some kind of damn beacon. No good would come from looking, and there was no reason to ruin the night already. I crossed my ankles. Placed my hands on the bar. Tapped my fingers to the song I was barely paying attention to. Stared at the rack of liquor bottles my other best friend was intimately familiar with.

But I looked, because I was a girl and diving head-first into girl-stupid.

Blondie was straddling Kyler. Her short denim skirt had ridden all the way up her thighs. One would think it wasn’t winter outside based on how she was dressed, but then again, I’d wear a skirt like that all the time if I had her legs.

His back was to me, but he must’ve said something interesting in her ear, because she laughed again. Her hot pink nails dug into his shoulders, bunching the material of his black sweater. Then she reached up, running her hands through the hair at his forehead, tugging it back.

I couldn’t look away now. Like a fat glutton for punishment, I was fixated on them.

He tilted his head to the side and tipped it back. I could see half his face now, and he was grinning. Not the big smiles that revealed those totally lickable dimples, but I knew he was rocking that half-grin of his—the infuriating and incredibly sexy half-grin. His hands settled on her hips.

“Here you go.” The bartender placed my drink down.

Turning away from what was about to go down over there, I glanced up at the bartender as I knocked a strand of long black hair out of my face. “Thank you.”

He winked. “No problem.”

The bartender ambled off to help someone else, while I was left to wonder why he’d winked. Thinking I probably shouldn’t have let Kyler talk me into coming out tonight, I picked up my glass and took a larger than normal gulp. I forced myself to swallow the bit of alcohol, even as it burned my throat.

Just as I placed my drink down, I was hugged from behind. The vanilla-scented perfume and high-pitch squeal gave away the culprit.

“You’re here! I saw you from the other side of the bar and tried to get your attention,” Andrea said, spinning me around the bar stool. Her red curls were twisted in every which direction. My roommate looked like Little Orphan Annie all grown up…if Little Orphan Annie had a potential drinking problem. As evidenced by the beers she was double-fisting.

“How much have you had to drink?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “This beer’s for Tanner, you bitch.”

“Since when do you get beers for Tanner?”

Andrea shrugged. “He’s being nice tonight. So I’m being nice tonight.”