I nod and resign myself to a summer of boredom in my hometown. I haven’t been back home for an entire summer since I came to college and there’s a very good reason for that. The small town where I grew up is charming and quaint and all those things people talk up about small towns, but it’s also super dull. No beach, no mountains, no good places to shop. Most of my friends from high school have moved away or are married with kids. It’s going to be the longest summer ever.

“Hey.” He nudges me. “How about I stay tonight and we hang out?”

“And do what? Everyone is gone.”

“Since when have we ever needed other people to have a good time?”

The corners of my mouth pull into a small smile. He’s right. Tanner and I can (and have) found ways to have fun regardless of what everyone else is doing. If the party is lame, we’ll still make sure we have a good time. It’s one of my favorite things about our friendship, he makes everything better.

“Okay, yeah, if you’re sure you can stay. I don’t want to keep you from whatever plans you have for the awesome summer you keep talking about.”

He cocks a brow.

“Okay, fine, screw your awesome summer. Stay and hang out with me.” I push out my lower lip and his eyes crinkle at the corners. When Tanner smiles, really smiles, it’s as clear in his eyes as it is his lips.

“Done.” He sits up. “I need to pack, though, so I can leave first thing in the morning.”

“You start packing and I’ll grab drinks.”

The guys’ fridge is the emptiest I’ve ever seen it and the liquor on the counter is sad, too. I grab a bottle of Malibu and four Natty Lights and head back upstairs.

Tanner makes a face when I hand him one of the cheap beers.

“It’s all you had, but I grabbed this too.”

His expression only sours more. “Malibu?”

“I like it.”

“You’re the only one. It’s been down there since our last party.”

“This is the same one?” I asked surprised. Tanner, despite all his eye rolling, always makes sure they have Malibu and Coke on hand for me. His preferences are Jager and beers that are too hoppy for my liking. For a college kid, he has expensive tastes that I like to tease him about.

He opens his beer and takes a long drink, grimaces, and then takes another long gulp. He crushes the can in his hand and my brows raise.

“Only take about thirty more of those to get me drunk. It’s basically water.”

“Take a shot,” I say and unscrew the top of the Malibu. My eyes widen with an idea. “Every time you complain about the beer, you have to take a shot.”