“You’ve met Caelyn, right? You know, the hopeless romantic who loves Disney movies just as much as her elementary-aged sisters? There is nothing we could say that would convince her that this isn’t some love story fated in the stars. And usually, Bell has her head on straight, but she just got engaged. The sappy hormones have overtaken her brain.”

I burst out laughing and tugged Kenna into a tight hug. “Okay, I’ll try to refrain from sticking my tongue down your throat at the bar.”

I could feel Kenna’s grimace against my chest. “I don’t want you to stick your tongue down my throat ever. Gross.”

“Come on…You know the idea gets you all hot and bothered.”

“If you want to play tonsil hockey, you might want to take a time machine back to high school.”

I released her, a grin stretching my face. “Only if you’re there. I’d love to see what high school Kenna looked like.” I bet fifteen-year-old me would’ve followed her around like a lost puppy.

Kenna’s expression shuttered for a brief moment before smoothing. I stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

She laughed, but it was forced. “Just thinking about you seeing me in braces and my awkward high school fashion. Come on, let’s go to The Catch.”

I watched her head towards my truck, wondering why the thought of high school created shadows in Kenna’s eyes.

14

Kenna

I stared down at the line of ten drinks on the glossy bar top, then threw an irritated glance at Crosby. I had no desire to be hugging the toilet at the end of tonight’s festivities.

Crosby squeezed my shoulders like a coach getting ready to send his boxer into the ring. “Just take a sip of each. I’m not trying to get you drunk, I just want you to try something other than your boring-as-hell vodka soda.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a vodka soda. Just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it’s boring.” Crosby began massaging the muscles between my shoulder blades that had stiffened at his words. My drink choice was like the rest of my life, at least according to Crosby: boring and predictable.

Bell half-heartedly muffled a laugh. “Did you lose a bet or something?”

“Pretty much,” I grumbled. How could I explain to my best friend that I’d made a deal with the devil? Forced, new life experiences in exchange for the high of sex with Crosby. What terrified me was that it wasn’t just the sex that had helped. The numbness and dull pain had begun to slip over me as the day progressed, but when Crosby showed up in the office this evening…suddenly, everything was in technicolor again. Sure, a lot of that color was the fire of my annoyance at him, but it was so much better than the feeling of nothingness.