“Fine,” I relent, kicking off my sweats, wishing I had a chance to shower after last night’s—ahem—activities. I pull my shorts up quickly. “Hand me that bra,” I say, pointing at the suitcase. Once she hands it to me, I turn away to change. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Sullivan got very far with Sierra.”
“How would you know?”
I walk back over to my suitcase, plucking a pair of gray socks to go with my boots because I don’t even own a pair of flip-flops. “I overheard some stuff. She was trying to use him to make Jesse jealous.”
“And then I sent their drunk asses home in an Uber,” Jess says, standing in the bathroom doorway, towel tied around his waist. I didn’t even hear him.
“Knock much?” I snap, trying to appear unaffected by the way he looks, his dark wet hair slicked back, beads of water trailing down his chest.
“Stare much?” he counters. I flip him off, sitting on the edge of my bed to pull my boots on before gathering a jacket and my work shirt to throw into my backpack for later. He returns his attention to Halston, who’s pinning me with an accusatory expression. “Even drunker than shit with a chip on his shoulder, he still passed on the opportunity. I wonder why that is?”
Halston shrugs. “He didn’t want the herp?”
“Funny,” Jesse deadpans. I take advantage of their little tête-à-tête, seizing the opportunity to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. When I come out, they’re speaking in hushed tones, but they stop when they see me, Halston glaring at him through narrowed eyes.
“We’re leaving,” I interrupt their staring contest, tugging on Halston’s wrist.
“We’re going to talk about what you were doing up with Jesse in the middle of the night. And don’t think I didn’t notice you failed to inform me that you share a bathroom,” she says in the loudest whisper known to man as we make our way down the stairs.
“Shut up,” I hiss, hurrying down the steps. I don’t need Jesse—or Sullivan for that matter—overhearing anything.
Three hours later, my fingers and toes are painted glossy and black, my stomach is full of tacos and margaritas—Halston promised this restaurant wouldn’t card, and she was right—and I’ve successfully managed to field all questions pertaining to Jesse. I didn’t outright lie. I simply…downplayed.
“What am I going to do without you for an entire week?” I pout, then lick the leftover salt off the rim of my margarita.
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“I think you’ll have your hands full,” she says pointedly. “I’ll be the one suffering. Wanna trade?”
A week with Halston’s rich, overbearing parents? I’ll pass. “What were you and Jesse whispering about, by the way?”
“Nothing.” She plugs the tip of the miniature lime green straw in her drink, then sucks the slush out of the bottom.
I narrow my eyes at her, but before I can press, my phone lights up on the tabletop with a number I don’t recognize. I don’t usually answer unfamiliar numbers, but this one’s local, and my curiosity is piqued. I bring my phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Allison?”
“This is she.” Halston sends me a questioning look, mouthing who is it, and I shrug.
“This is Victor.”
“Oh.” I sit up straighter. “How are you?”
“Can’t complain. I wanted to see if you were still interested in throwing an event.”
“Yes!” I say a little too eagerly, and his amused laughter rumbles in my ear.
“Not this Friday, but next. Does that give you a sufficient amount of time?”
“I can make that work,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. It’s the end of the semester, and school is going to take over my life after Spring Break, but I can’t pass this up.
“That’s what I like to hear. If this goes well, we can talk about a possible summer internship. That is, if you’re interested.”
“Definitely interested,” I say, trying not to squeal like a schoolgirl. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Text me your email and I’ll send the information over.”
He hangs up without another word, and I relay the details to Halston, whose excitement rivals mine. “Holy shit, Allie! That’s cause for celebration. One more drink?”