“Hey there.” I wave three fingers around my drink.

“Where’s Reagan?” Maverick asks. Then to me, “Her roommate. The nicer of the two.”

Dakota flips him off. “She’ll be here. She was still getting ready. Ginny, you’re a freshman?”

“Did the seltzer give it away?”

She lifts her cup. “We’ve got a better variety at our place if you want something else. These guys only know cheap beer and hard liquor.”

“Thank you. That’s really nice.”

“Of course.”

Dakota’s phone pings, and she smiles at the screen. “Wardrobe emergency. I should go make sure Reagan’s not buried under a pile of dresses. Do you want to come with me and scan our booze?”

Maverick nods his approval and smiles like a proud parent who’s set up their kid on a successful playdate. “You two have fun. Don’t tell her any lies about us, Dakota.”

“Lies would be less incriminating.”

Dakota lets us into her apartment across the breezeway from the guys.

“Help!” a muffled voice calls from one of the bedrooms. A girl with hair the color of honey pulled up in curlers rushes out wearing a silky robe. “I don’t know what to wear.”

Dakota laughs. “This is Ginny. Ginny, that’s my neurotic but lovable roommate, Reagan.”

“Hey,” she says, breathless, cheeks pink.

“Green’s a good color on you,” I tell her and motion to the emerald color of her robe.

“She’s right. Put on that green dress with the crisscross back.”

Reagan smiles, deep dimples popping out. “Oh, right. I forgot about that one.” She disappears back into the room.

Dakota moves to the kitchen and I hang in the living room looking around.

“I like your apartment.” It’s decorated with lots of black and white with pops of dark pink. Old Hollywood movie posters and cute furniture. It’s a smaller version of my brother’s, but same basic setup with bedrooms on either side of the living area.

“Thanks,” she says, and I join her in the kitchen area. “Pick your poison.” A wide selection of alcohol is spread out on their kitchen counter. Wine—red and white, hard lemonade, vodka, Captain Morgan, and a bunch of mixers. I settle on half a cup of white wine. After all the mixing, I’m a little nervous to drink too much.

“So, you’re Adam Scott’s little sister?” she asks with a smirk once we both have a fresh drink.

“I am. Yeah. You know him?”

“Everyone knows him. He’s Adam Scott.”

Reagan reappears in green with her hair down, looking like she walked out of a salon. If I could make that sort of transformation in five minutes, I’d probably get dolled up more often.

“Do we have a winner?” Dakota asks.

Reagan holds her arms out to her sides. “I think so.”