“Okay, now we need to get a pic in a jersey from one of those guys out at the dunking booth.” Annabel points over at the group of jocks. “You should ask number thirty-four. He looks nice.”

“I can’t ask a guy to wear his jersey.”

“Of course you can. Use your feminine wiles.”

Reese is already turning red just at the thought of it. “I don’t have those. And if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do with them.”

Annabel purses her lips, then reaches forward and, with a flick of her wrist, unsnaps the top three buttons of Reese’s shirt. “Now you do. Every man’s kryptonite. Boobs.”

Irritation pulses through me, and it’s not because Reese’s cleavage is now on display. “Some of us are capable of higher thinking.”

Annabel turns at the sound of my voice and shrugs. “Not many. You’re a unicorn, Fitzy.”

“This isn’t going to work,” Reese says.

“He’s a boy, it will work. Now go get ’em, tiger.” She smacks Reese on the bottom, making her jump and toss a surprised glance back at us.

I stop next to my sister and we watch as Reese crosses the quad on timid feet and then attempts to inject herself into their conversation. I can see the red flush creeping up her neck from a hundred yards away.

“Now, you can’t be helping her. It’s not fair.”

She rolls her eyes, a move she’s been perfecting since she was thirteen. “I do what I want. Besides, it’s not like I’m actually doing the tasks, I’m just here for emotional support. Like a service dog. Now shut it, Fitz. Don’t you have other things you should be doing?”

I do, but I’m distracted by the train wreck that is Reese Jackson. One of the players has finally noticed her. Reese is talking, gesticulating widely, and suddenly the brawny football player—who I think is a linebacker—reels back and guffaws. Then he’s whipping his jersey over his head.

“Shit.”

Annabel laughs. “She’s so adorably ridorkulous. Don’t you think?”

I should leave, but instead I continue to watch in a fascinated stupor while Reese gets a selfie with the jock. Then he takes her phone, still talking to her, and keys something into it. She’s nodding as he hands her the phone back. Did he ask for her number?

She does have a bit of awkward charm. The half-unbuttoned shirt probably helps.

Something squirms in my stomach. I am not jealous. Not of that, anyway. Maybe it’s only because she got the jersey so easily and I’m probably going to have to commit some kind of felony. I can’t imagine one of the giant athletes taking off their clothes for me.

“Better hurry.” Annabel smirks.

“It’s still not fair,” I can’t help but grumble.

“Number forty-two is gay.”

My gaze snaps to her. “Now you’re helping me?”

“So you can’t whine about me going along with Reese. And we’re totally kicking your ass already so I figured I’d give you a fighting chance.” She shrugs. “Makes it more interesting. Maybe we’ll see you over at Begonia’s pen. Good luck!” She slaps me on the back and runs after Reese, who is already heading in the direction of the barn where the mascot lives.