“I didn’t invite him.” Her voice carried from the bedroom. “Kyler did. And what’s the big deal? I thought you two were getting along now.”
Swiping my fingers under my eyes, I dropped my hands to the cool rim of the porcelain sink with a sigh. “Just because we’re getting along right now doesn’t mean we’ll get along tomorrow or next week or an hour from now. He’s…he’s moody like that.”
There was no answer from the bedroom.
Rising onto the tips of my toes, I peered into the mirror, and then cursed under my breath. Was that a zit forming on my chin? A huge one, too. I puckered my nude lips. At what point would my face outgrow the pimple phase? “And why would Kyler even invite him? Tanner is as interesting as getting my eyebrows plucked. Speaking of which…” I pulled back from the mirror, wrinkling my nose. “My eyebrows look like caterpillars, Syd. Hairy and bushy caterpillars.”
Syd cleared her throat. “Um, Andrea—”
“Actually, let me rephrase that.” Settling flat on my bare feet, I smoothed my hands over my shoulder-length ringlets. My hair was a deep auburn in normal light and much redder out in the sun. Syd thought I looked like old-school Little Orphan Annie since I also had the matching freckles. “Plucking the hair off my chin would be more interesting than spending a week with Tanner. And why do we get hair on our chins? Don’t answer that. You’ll probably have some kind of logical explanation, and I’m against all things logic right now.”
“Andrea—”
“But plucking any piece of body hair would be less painful. God.” Yep. I was getting riled up, like I always did when I thought about Tanner. “Do you know what that dickhead told me after you and Kyler ditched me at the park the night of the fireworks? And I don’t even need to guess what you two were doing behind those trees. Perverts,” I went on, anger resurfacing as I remembered what Tanner had said. “He told me I drank too much. And he said this while holding a beer in his hand. What kind of fucked-up double standard is that? Plus, I need to drink so I don’t want to punch him in the gonads.”
“Nice.”
I stiffened, eyes widening as I recognized a voice way too deep to belong to Syd, unless she had been keeping a major secret from me. Two pink splotches formed on my cheeks as I turned toward the open bathroom door.
That was definitely Kyler’s voice, and if he was home, there was a good chance he wasn’t alone, which meant…
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Face burning and most likely matching my hair, I briefly considered hiding behind the shower curtain, but that was weak and would be really weird. I walked out of the bathroom and quickly discovered that I’d just inserted foot and my entire leg into my mouth.
Kyler Quinn was in the bedroom with one well-defined arm draped over Syd’s slim shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed pink, so I was assuming he’d given her a heck of a greeting with his mouth and hands. He was a multitasking kind of guy. Right then, he was grinning at me like a cat that had devoured an entire box of mice. Kyler was hot. With his messy brown hair and Prince Charming kind of smile, he was a perfect match for Sydney, who sort of reminded me of a living, breathing Snow White.
Sydney and Kyler? Gah, they made me want to puke rainbows of the My Little Pony variety.
Their whole story was a thing of fairytales, what little girls dreamed of—what I still kind of dreamed of in a really pathetically sad sort of way.
Growing up together, basically best friends for life, they both had been secretly in love with one another, and last year, while snowed in together at the cabin in Snowshoe, they’d finally fessed up to their feelings. They’d been together ever since, and even though I was a wee bit envious of their love for one another, I couldn’t be any happier for them. Those two deserved their happy ending.
The walking penis leaning against the doorframe? Another story.
My gaze slid to Tanner Hammond. He wasn’t hot. Oh no. Hot was too weak of a word to describe all six feet and four inches of sexiness packed into well-formed arms, tight abs, and a broad chest, complete with narrow hips and an ass one could ogle for days. His bright, crystal-blue eyes were legit bedroom eyes, always half-hooded, sleepy and sensual. His face was almost perfectly pieced together—high cheekbones and a lower lip slightly fuller than the top lip, his nose faintly crooked from a break he’d suffered long before I knew him.
I usually liked my guys with a bit more hair, but he rocked the buzzed-at-the-sides and cropped-at-the-top look. Once, when I’d been…well, drunk, I’d gotten the great idea to rub my palm across his head. Probably another dumb idea, but I’d about died over how the prickly softness of his hair felt against my palm.
It had felt go-oo-od.
The first time I’d seen Tanner had been in my packed English 101 class, and my tongue had practically lolled out of my mouth and smacked off the floor. He, of course, hadn’t noticed me. Hell, Kyler and Syd thought we’d only met in the last two years or so. Not true. I’d known of Tanner since my freshman year. That year alone, he’d been in two of my classes, and I had crushed on him hard—super hard—right up to the end of spring semester.
Tanner lifted a brow. “I stand by my word. You do drink too much.”
My hands clenched as I drew in a sharp, stinging breath. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Dr. Phil.”
“All I’m saying is that I’ve seen you puke more times than I would hanging out in an emergency room during flu season,” he added dryly.
The vein along my temple started to tick while Kyler tipped his chin down, not doing a good job at hiding his smile. “Oh. So roughly the same number of times you screwed random chicks this week?”
His lips curled into a half-smile—the kind of grin that would’ve been mind-numbingly sexy if I didn’t want to smack it off his face. “Sounds about right—no, wait. There’s probably been one more random chick than you puking, if we’re keeping count.”
“Guys…” Syd murmured.
My shoulders tensed as I readied for a verbal battle, round five million. “So that means you’ve probably caught chlamydia and gonorrhea this past weekend alone, then?”
He raised one shoulder as he eyed me lazily. “Probably the same likelihood of you vomiting in your date’s lap.”
Warmth crept over my cheeks. I’d done that before. Once. Wasn’t pretty. “How about this? Why don’t you go fu—”