Page 10 of Surprisingly Us

His eyebrows don’t budge.

“Okay, a lot wild. That’s what we do together. Have fun. Let off steam. Get a little crazy.”

“You see how you’re proving my point.”

Now I’m thinking about my friends in the city and all the crazy shit we’ve done. Most nights we were together, we made scenes fromThe Hangoverlook like a Disney movie. So much debauchery.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Vulcan:Party last night was lit! Don’t be sleeping on it tonight, bro

I scroll to a picture of my friend Matt, with two women sitting in his lap as the club lights flash behind him.

Ramsey squints at my phone screen.

“Who’s Vulcan?”

“That’s not his real name.”

“So he purposely requests people call him that?”

“It’s Matt, you know, Bryce’s cousin that’s in the grunge band, Flaming Torpedo? Vulcan’s his stage name.”

“Flaming Torpedo?” Ramsey cringes. “That sounds like what happens in the bathroom after I eat spicy food.”

Ramsey’s right. If I’m going to turn over a new leaf, I’ll need to ditch my old friends. It doesn’t have to be forever, just while I’m being evaluated for the board’s president position.

“Okay. I’ll keep a low profile.”

Jerrod’s dinner invitation resurfaces, along with his jab about bringing a date.

“Jerrod’s having a dinner party for all the board members in a few weeks. I’ll need a date.”

Ramsey shakes his head. “You’re going to need more than a date to convince people you’ve changed your fuckboy ways.”

I can easily drop a fortune on looking the part, and stay away from old friends and bad habits, but the real issue is finding a woman that could measure up to the board’s standards. The women I typically fuck are not the ‘meet the foundation board’ type.

Exhibit A, my phone being bombarded with sexts and nudes.

I doubt Corinne sends Jerrod nudes. Maybe she should. It would probably help with the stick that’s permanently up his ass.

I scroll through my phone, hoping a gem will pop out at me. Some demure, emotionally-stable woman that could impress the foundation board members and make me look good. A woman that could compete with Corinne’s success and flawless image.

No woman I’ve hooked up with fits that description.

While I’m thinking, my eyes snag on the pile of mail next to Ramsey.

“What’s this?” I ask, taking notice of a fancy gold envelope among the rest.

“Mail I picked up from your PO box. Most of it is old. With all the traveling, I’ve made everything paperless that I possibly can.”

I slide a finger under the sealed gold envelope and pull out the contents. As I suspected by the weight of the premium paper and the hand-painted floral design, it’s a wedding invitation.

I find the names in the center in an elegant script font.

Hannah Cartwright and James McKenzie.

For the first time since I walked into the board room this morning, a genuine smile pulls at my lips.

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