Little Lies

“Maybe.”

Lovey grins and claps her hands. “Maybe is almost as good as a yes.”

“And there will be tons of cute guys.” Lacey waggles her brows.

I laugh and shake my head. “We’ll see. As much as cute guys sound awesome, I’m not sure my brothers are going to make dating very easy this year.”

“Hopefully they’re too busy with sports and classes to pay attention to what you’re doing.” Lovey twirls the end of her hair around her finger. “Thankfully Liam and Lane live closer to hockey row, so they can’t interfere with our dates.”

Lovey and Lacey are the youngest of six, and they have four older brothers to my three, so they sort of understand where I’m coming from, but not completely.

“They’re also super chill,” I point out.

“This is true.” They nod in tandem.

As much as the idea of a party excites me, the reality isn’t at all the same. I want to be social, to have lots of friends like they do, to join clubs and be part of things, but I get so stressed out when there are too many people around. People think I’m weird.

Which I am, but in those situations, I end up looking weirder than average.

My stomach growls loud enough to startle me. I glance at the line of students. There are at least ten people waiting to order.

“Are you hungry? Do you want me to grab you a coffee? Something to eat?” Lovey offers.

“I can wait.”

“I was about to get a tea. Tell me what you want, and I’ll order it for you.”

Even lines make me anxious. Sometimes people try to talk to me, and then I have to make polite conversation with strangers, and I don’t have the energy left for that today.

I give her a grateful smile. “Okay. I’ll take a decaf, coconut-milk latte and a scone or a muffin.”

“That’s it? They have sandwiches.”

“A muffin is good.”

“Nothing with raisins, though, right?”

“Right.”

As soon as Lovey gets in line, she strikes up a conversation with the guy in front of her. She isn’t even flirting. She’s just nice.

Lacey and I talk about class schedules while we wait. Every few minutes someone stops to say hi. Lots of girls give BJ a sly second glance when they pass him. Like Lacey and Lovey, he’s a junior, but unlike most twenty-one-year-olds, he’s sporting a full, lush beard, better suited for someone at least five years his senior. He’s also sporting a sizeable tattoo that spans from his wrist to his elbow, and he has plans to continue the art until he has a full sleeve, exactly like his dad. In fact, BJ is almost the spitting image of his father, apart from his chocolate-brown eyes, which are very much his mother’s.

The other big difference is that instead of being into hockey like his dad, BJ is a figure skater—a tattooed, bearded figure skater, who hangs out with a bunch of hockey players. He gives off a zero-fucks vibe at all times. Since our mothers are half sisters, we’ve always spent a lot of time together, particularly during holidays.

When Lovey returns with food, BJ’s eyes pop open. He yawns loudly and stretches. “Lavender? When’d you get here? How long have I been out?” His voice is low and raspy with sleep.

“A while ago.” I help Lovey unload the tray of food. She was smart not to let me go up and order myself. There’s no way I could carry the tray without spilling something. I’ll never have a serving job; that’s for sure.

BJ leans forward to scope out the goods. Before he can reach for something, Lovey shifts to block him, her hands on her hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m hungry,” he says gruffly.

“And? You think you can pick whatever you want without even asking?” There’s as much amusement in her tone as there is annoyance.

“I was just looking. Besides, the one thing I really want to chow down on is you, but you keep denying me.”

“Oh my God! You’re disgusting!” She shoves his shoulder.

BJ flops back in the chair, his grin full of mirth. Lovey’s face is completely red as she huffs and throws herself back down on the couch, as far away from BJ as possible.

It doesn’t matter that we’ve all grown up with him, or seen him in a full sequin leotard, he still hits on Lovey all the time. BJ isn’t related to the twins, so it’s not quite as squicky as it would be if he flirted with me like that. I can’t decide if he does it because it always gets a reaction or because he’s a compulsive flirt. Then again, he doesn’t do that with Lacey.

Before I can take a seat in the middle of the couch again, BJ grabs me by the waist and yanks me into the chair with him.