“Sorry.” I giggle. “It’s true, though. I am disappointed. I thought he was a nice guy, and I liked him. I was convinced he was going to make a move on me—he was sending out vibes, you know? And I totally would’ve done more than make out with him.” I glance over sheepishly. “That’s huge for me. I don’t ever sleep with someone before I’ve been on a date with them. And even then, it’s usually several dates before I put out.”
“Prude,” she cracks.
“Hey, I might burn down sorority houses, but I’m an old-fashioned girl at heart.”
Brenna hoots in delight. “Okay—we will be circling back to that sorority-house comment, oh trust me, we fucking will. But let’s stay on the topic at hand. So you don’t typically give your flower to a boy until he proves that he’s a prince, but you would’ve gladly offered this jerk your entire lady garden. Except then he revealed his true colors and you hooked up with his friend instead.”
“Pretty much.” I flash back to the moment Hunter Davenport stopped me from leaving the bar. I’d been making my way through the crowd toward the exit. Fitzy’s comments to Garrett had been so hurtful, I was actually going to bail on New Year’s Eve. But then I bumped into Hunter, and he said something to make me laugh. I don’t even remember what it was. The next thing I knew, the countdown reached the last second, and Hunter pulled me into his arms and kissed me.
It was hot. He was a fabulous kisser and hard as a rock as he ground up against me. I can’t say I regret it, because I really did enjoy it at the time.
But at the time, I also hadn’t anticipated I’d end up living with the guy.
Dean arranged everything without consulting me first, though in all honesty there’s no scenario in which I wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to move into Dean’s old house. Not only is it a million times better than the dorms, but finding anything else in Hastings would be insanely tough. Maybe a tiny basement apartment, but even those get snatched up fast. Available housing is hard to come by in a town this small.
The only downside is that I now have to live with the guy I kissed.
And the guy who, at one point, I’d desperately wanted to kiss.
And Hollis, but he’s harmless because I haven’t kissed him nor have I ever wanted to.
Brenna looks over. “Did y’all—”
“Y’all?” I tease.
She grins. “My mother was from Georgia. ‘Y’all’ is the only piece of the South I inherited from her.”
“Was?”
The mood sobers slightly. “She passed away when I was seven.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been rough.” My life would literally be in shambles if I didn’t have my mom. She’s my rock.
“It was.” Brenna quickly switches the topic back. “Anyway. Did y’all know you’d be living together before New Year’s?”
“No way. I wouldn’t have done anything—with either one of them—if I’d known. That’s setting myself up for a whole lot of awkward. It’s already going to be an adjustment living with three boys after spending two and a half years in a sorority house full of girls.”
“Okay, but obviously the boys don’t think it’s awkward, otherwise they wouldn’t have agreed to let you move in. They all agreed to it, right?”
“Right.” Although, I’d actually only spoken to Mike Hollis, and exchanged a few texts with Hunter, who, blessedly, didn’t bring up our make-out session. “I’ve been in contact with two of them. No contact with Fitz, though.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Brenna’s head whip in my direction. “Did you say Fitz?”
Uh-oh.
Panic tugs at my stomach. Does she know him? I guess it’s not inconceivable that she might. Fitz isn’t exactly the most common of nicknames.
Luckily, I’m presented with the perfect opportunity to change the subject, because we’ve just reached Hastings’ idyllic Main Street.
“I can’t get over how cute this town is,” I chirp, avoiding Brenna’s gaze by focusing on the shops and restaurants lining the street. “Oh, cool! I didn’t know there was a movie theater.” It’s a lie. Of course I knew. It took me all of five minutes to explore Hastings and its “attractions.”
“It doesn’t offer a great selection. Only three screens.” She points to a storefront just past the town square. “I’m meeting my friends at Della’s Diner. It’s right up there.”
I haven’t been to Della’s yet, but I plan to. Apparently, it’s a ’50s-themed place where the waitresses wear old-fashioned uniforms. I heard they serve a gazillion different kinds of pie.
“The guy who was trash-talking you—his name is Fitz?”
Dammit. I was hoping I’d succeeded in distracting her. But she’s back on the scent.
“Yes,” I admit. “It’s a nickname, though.”
“Short for Fitzgerald? First name Colin?”
Shit.
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not an ex of his or something, are you?”