“You are such a dick,” I say blankly.

“Nah. I’m not,” he says. He believes it, and I want to punch him even more now. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for him, he leaves, and I’m left with nothing other than a deep wrinkle between my eyes, sick stomach, closed throat, and complete and utter sense of dread. I look at my watch to see it’s almost five. I get off in half an hour, and then I’ll have thirty minutes to race home to change, explain this debacle to my mom, and meet some innocent girl at a burger joint, staying just long enough not to feel like a complete tool wagon, but not so long that it gives her any false impressions.

Then, I’ll call Casey, find out where he is, and drive there so I can punch him.

Paige

I wonder if this is the new norm—Ty goes everywhere my sister goes. He came home with us for spring break. Granted, the California beaches are pretty great for spring break, but still. He’s everywhere. As annoying as it is that he’s everywhere, he and I have also started to bond a little. Not so much that I’m okay with the fact that he was in our dorm room at five thirty this morning, but enough that I don’t want to stab him for waking me up early so he and Cass could go workout. I just want to make him suffer a little. No, that’s a lie. I still want to stab him. But I’ll feel bad about it.

“You’re buying,” I say, nudging Ty’s shoulder as we all stuff into the dorm elevator.

“What? You’re still mad I wrecked your beauty sleep, aren’t you? What if I said you don’t need it; that you’re beautiful without it,” Ty says, laying his southern accent on a little thicker than normal. I’m doing my best to sneer at him while Nate, Rowe, and Cass watch, but his fucking charming smile cracks my armor, and I eventually give in and smile back.

“I’d say thank you,” I blush, but then point my finger at him. “But you’re still buying my dinner.”

“You’re on,” he says. “Salads are cheap!”

“Yeah, well tonight, I’m ordering lobster,” I say. “I don’t even know if they serve lobster at Sally’s, but whatever’s expensive, I’m getting it.” Ty nods and winks at me, but he doesn’t say no to any of my requests. I don’t want to stab him anymore.

We can tell just by walking up to the parking lot that Sally’s is packed. It’s a fish fry. Fish fries in Oklahoma seem weird to me. I’m not sure where they get the fish from, but the smell is pretty much all-consuming. And it only vaguely smells like fish. My luck, of course, the fish-fry all-you-can-eat ticket is the most expensive thing on the menu, so it’s what Ty orders for me before I can even ask. I add a glass of Pinot Gris onto my order just to be a bitch, but Ty high-fives me for being a good sport, so my comeback feels thwarted before it even has a chance at wings. And I’m pretty sure the Pinot was trucked in and came out of a box.

“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day my sister ate fried fish,” Cass says, slinging her arm around me and pulling me over to one of the outdoor benches set up for tonight’s big crowd. I feel like I should be in overalls. I would rock overalls.

“Oh, I’m not eating any of it. I’m going to let it sit in front of me to piss him off,” I smirk.

“He’ll just start picking off your plate; trust me,” Cass says.

I laugh, and Cass nudges me when we get into our seat.

“You like him,” she says. I know she’s talking about Ty, but the universe is cruel and the second she makes her joke, Houston walks out of one of the side doors of the restaurant, carrying a tray of food—enough food for two.

My initial hope is that he’s here with Leah. But then the fact that we’re at a bar smacks me in the chest, and my heart starts to squeeze. Too much time has passed since Cass spoke, which only makes her follow my gaze to see what’s distracting me. What’s pulling me is the dark-haired guy with perfect arms across the room. “Ohhhhhh,” she starts to tease. She stops as soon as she looks back at me and sees my eyes are down in my lap, my lips tight.

“I was talking about Ty,” she says, coughing.

“I know,” I smile, raising one side of my mouth. I pick up my plastic cup of wine and chuckle at the absurdity of it, then take a slow sip, begging myself to look in any direction but the one he’s moving in.

But I’m weak.

And Houston stops three tables away from me, a very tall, very pretty brunette sitting across from him. She’s in scrubs, which means she probably has a job, which means she also probably has her shit together. I hate that a little…a lot.