After carefully dusting my cheeks with blush, I tipped my face back and forth, studying all the angles as I checked my reflection in the mirror. Finally satisfied that my makeup looked even, I tossed down my powder brush and opened the drawer where I kept my lipstick.
Names like Bombshell, Venus, Baby Doll, First Class, Miss America, and Trophy Wife gleamed up at me from the ends of their tubes.
Running my fingertips over them, I sighed with indecision.
“Kinsey?” I called. “What color of lipstick should I go for?”
“What?”
I rolled my eyes and lifted my voice. “What color of lipstick should I wear tonight?”
“Something bright,” she decided. “Bright red is for making a bold statement. You’re passionate and sensual and don’t mind being admired.”
“Next?” I asked, wondering what color best displayed nervous, terrified, and ready to hide under a rock.
“Alright. Wine, then. Wine’s the color of seduction.”
“Oh God,” I groaned, hating the idea of having to be seductive even more. “What else you got?”
“Lord above, Raina,” she shouted. “Just pick a damn color. The party’s already started.”
I made a face and then had to nod in reluctant agreement as I glanced around my bathroom, which looked as if a department store had exploded in it.
“Goody two-shoes?” But peach was one of my favorite lipsticks to wear. “What’s so goody two-shoes about peach?”
“Really?” Kinsey scoffed. “It’ll make you look all kind and generous, like you care about family and friends.”
Ah. I guess she had a point.
Except when I picked up the tube of lipstick labeled Miss America, which I’d never once worn in my life, I swallowed thickly before shoving it right back down into its slot. And then I plucked up Peach Kiss, which I’d nearly used up already.
I just needed something familiar and soothing right now, since my stomach was already tangled into a million knots.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I called through my apartment to…wherever she was hanging out. It sounded as if she was outside, actually, maybe chilling on my mini balcony. “What if he’s not even there?”
Leaning toward the mirror, I held my mouth just so as I applied the peach.
Capping the tube, I rubbed my lips together and squinted at the finished product, searching for imperfections. “Well, there’s also a huge rager taking place on the opposite side of town where most of the football players will probably be.” When I found a tiny hiccup, I narrowed my eyes and corrected it as best I could with my finger.
“Then we’ll go there. Damn,” Kinsey groaned. “We have all night. We’ll find him somewhere.”
Pulling away from the mirror, I decided to stop before I made things worse, and I poofed my hair that Kinsey had styled for me half an hour earlier.
Nodding because this was as good as I’d ever looked, I dropped my attention to the countertop and scanned through the bottles before spotting Sol de Janeiro, Number 62.
Snatching it, I started to spritz myself down as I left the bathroom and wandered toward the terrace exit.
A light breeze drifted inside from the open door, bringing an earthy, skunk-like odor with it.
When I grabbed her arm and tugged, trying to yank her down, she tried to pull me up onto the ledge with her instead.
“Kinsey,” I cried. “Stop. This is dangerous. Get down.”
I arched my brows severely and propped my hands on my hips. “Get. Down,” I repeated, no longer playing.
With a groan, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright. Alright. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Then she cracked a grin and winked. “Or that guy tonight will have too much trouble taking them off you.”
“And put that thing out,” I instructed. “Before the neighbors call the cops on me.”
“Pfft,” was Kinsey’s reply, even as she dutifully tossed the joint down and crushed it under the heel of her chunky platforms. “You mean the neighbor who gave it to me in the first place?”
“Seriously?” I gasped as I led her off the balcony and into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. “Which neighbor? Bienvenido or Linden?”
Kinsey merely blinked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “But he was kind of hot.”
She lifted her nose to take a whiff. “Ooh. That smells good.”
“I know. Now, stop trying to take it out of my hand; I’m not done yet.”
“I want to see what it’s called.” This time she purposely batted at my hands just to mess with me, so I spritzed her right in the face.
“I told you to stop.” Laughing, I sprayed her on the arm.
She made a valid point.
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and spread my arms wide. “So? Fit check.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Unconcerned, I searched my bed for my phone. “I’m boring and predictable, yada, yada. I’m going to call for a rideshare now.”
“Yay!” She clapped excitedly. “So we’re really doing this? You’re not chickening out?”
“We are ~doing this,” I confirmed, finding my phone.
After logging into my app, I started to search for the closest, most affordable car.
“In that case, I’m pouring us a drink for the road. I want you pleasantly ~loose by the time we get there.”
I nodded. “That actually sounds like a good idea. Thank you.” Because at the moment, I was anything ~but loose.
Kinsey had been in town for three days now, visiting me at college, and it had taken her that long to talk me into attending this party.
My friend, Oaklynn, had invited us on Tuesday—the very morning after our football team had won the national championships for the second year in a row. Her boyfriend was best friends with Foster Union, the team’s quarterback, and they wanted to throw him a big celebration party this weekend before spring classes started back next week.
Except Kinsey hadn’t stopped bugging me about the bash until I’d finally thrown up my hands and cried, “Fine. We’ll go.”
But as far as I knew, the guy could be a total dick.
Meeting him in person would be an absolute dream come true.
“No way,” she’d promised. “Because we’re going to spend all of Saturday afternoon jazzing you up, and I’m just going to throw on the first wrinkled, gross thing I pull out of my luggage.”
Except the first wrinkled, gross thing she’d pulled from her luggage was ten times skimpier and more seductive than the notched-neck beach romper I had with a full black tank for the top and black, pink, and cream striped shorts for the bottom, tied off with a matching belt.
I shook my head sadly at her jean skirt, platforms, and cleavage-exposing blouse as she pranced back into my room with two shot glasses.
“Bottoms up,” she sang, handing me one as I finished our order for a ride. “This shit is a hundred proof, so we shouldn’t need many.”
“Fireball?” I asked when I took a glass from her and smelled cinnamon.
Kinsey shook her head. “Hot Damn!” she answered as she clinked her tiny glass against mine and tossed back the whole thing.
I shook my head at her vigor then tried to mimic the move by gulping my liqueur as well, only for fire to burn the insides of my esophagus.
“Holy shit,” I wheezed before coughing and waving a hand in front of my watering eyes. “Whew. Well, I’m definitely going to have nice cinnamon breath for the rest of my life.”
“Hell, yeah,” Kinsey cheered as she poured us more.
“Oh! Are you sure we should—” As the dark liquid sloshed its way into my shot glass, I shrugged. “Okay, sure. Let’s take another.” Wasn’t like we were driving.
We’d each finished off four by the time our ride arrived, and a warm glow was radiating through my belly.
“Damn, girl.” She shook her head in disappointment as she tightened her grip to keep me steady when I tripped…for the third time. “You are such a lightweight. What the hell have you been doing down here in college town all this time?”
“Studying,” I mumbled, frowning at a step when it blurred into two more.
“Pfft. You obviously need to learn how to party more.”
“Mm-hmm.” Kinsey didn’t sound convinced. “And when was the last time you had sex?”
Completely flabbergasted by such a question, I shook my head. “I don’t know. Why does that matter?”
My face went hot with embarrassment as I slid into the seat and the driver glanced back with curiously lifted eyebrows.
“Hey, y’all,” they greeted with a big smile. “Looks like you two are headed for a fun night out.”
“Oh, it better be,” Kinsey answered as she shut us in and began to buckle up. “Since my sister here hasn’t gotten laid in almost two years.”
“Kinsey,” I hissed in reprimand as our driver belly laughed and pulled away from the curb. Then, from between gritted teeth, I added, “I didn’t say it’d been two years.”
“Well?” She lifted her eyebrows. “Has it?”
“Wow. Mature,” I muttered dryly.
“Ha!” I crowed in Kinsey’s face. “Hear that? My way’s better.”
“Bleh.” She shivered as if disgusted. “Even the mere idea gives me the creeps. Seriously. Having the same hands on me, day after day after day, just sounds…suffocating.”
I merely shrugged. “So I like romance and happily ever afters. I can’t help it.”
“Aww.” I snuggled closer, gripping her hand as I answered, “Thank you. I love you exactly the way you are too.”
“Ooh! Foster Union?” the driver said with interest. “Mmm, honey, that boy is one fine piece of ass. I’d hold off on sex to wait for the likes of him, too.”
“Thank you,” I said, splaying out my hand gratefully.
The driver shook their head in delight. “Did you see the clip of him on the news giving that boy CPR last month?”
“You said it. I could just gobble that boy up whole.”
“Right?” I agreed.
The driver pulled up to the curb and then turned back to take me in from head to toe as if to determine whether I was good enough to rate time with Foster. Then they nodded in approval. “Bang him one time for me, honey. And good luck.”
“Oh geesh,” Kinsey muttered, rolling her eyes as she opened the door and climbed out.
But I smiled and promised, “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you.”
As my sister dragged me out into the cool darkness, I waved into the back seat. “Have a good night.”
“You too. Bye, sweetie.”
Kinsey shut the door, and the driver took off.
Shaking her head, she said, “You make friends with just everyone, don’t you?”
“What? They were super nice.”
She only sighed and hooked her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s get you laid.”
