Page 107 of The Way We Collide

“It’s agame, Allie,” Dylan leans into her. “You’re not really doing it.”

“Okay, I have to know…” Leaning forward, I grab a handful of pizza rolls. Purple drink is sneaky, and I’d better eat something before I’m drunk. “Did you name your son after that old TV show?”

“I was eighteen!” Allie cries, her face turning bright red. “It was my favorite show!”

“Oh, my God, you did?” Liv collapses into laughter against Rachel’s back.

“I knew it!” I hold up my glass for a cheer.

“My turn, my turn…” Dylan leans against the bar, grabbing a toast point. “Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, The Rock.”

“Ooo,Fast & Furiousedition.” My eyes widen, and I quickly write my answer.

“See, you’re getting the hang of it.” She elbows me, folding her sheet in half.

The final grains slip through the plastic hourglass, and Rachel calls time.

Holding up my hand, I announce the correct answer. “Fuck The Rock, marry Paul Walker, kill Vin Diesel.”

More screams break out, and Allie says I’ve got it all backwards. Liv is on my side, but Rachel and Dylan both marry The Rock.

“It’s a valid choice,” I concede. “But I’m a sucker for blue eyes.”

“I know you are.” Dylan pokes my side, and we fall against each other.

The party continues with the purple drink flowing. We eat all the finger foods and argue over whether to marry or fuck Jensen Ackles or Milo Ventimiglia. We’re all united in killing Zac Efron. Poor Zac.

Both Hemsworths go in the fuck category, since there’s not a third hot one, and halfway through the night, Dylan, Rachel, and Allie’s phones all go off at the same time.

“Are you kidding me?” Liv turns wide eyes on me. “We’restillnot in the family group chat?”

“I have an iPhone!” I hold up my device. “It’s easy to add me.”

“It’s Jack,” Allie explains. “He always pulls up the old thread by mistake.”

We crowd around Dylan’s iPad, watching as Logan drags Zane to a chair in the middle of the dance floor at the bar where they’re having the bachelor party.

Zane tries to object, but we hear Logan say if he had to do it, Zane does, too.

Then the lights change to disco, and “Pony” by Ginuwine starts playing. We all scream as Garrett and Craig dance out in their blond wigs. They’re both in sequined halter tops, and they move their hips in time like exotic dancers.

Zane drops his head forward like he’s about to be killed by firing squad, and his brother gives him a lap dance while Craig runs his fingers through his long, dark hair.

Rachel wipes tears from her eyes as she laughs, but Dylanand I both scream when Hendrix saunters out. He’s not wearing a wig, but his shirt is off and his jeans hug his ass and legs so well, I have to fan myself.

He turns his back to his brother and bends forward, shaking his ass in his face. Naturally, Zane pushes his brother’s butt with his foot, but Hendrix is prepared, catching himself in a push-up and doing a smooth, arching lift off the floor like a real exotic dancer.

“That was hot as those toast points,” I say, still waving my hand in front of my face.

“My brother’s got moves!” Dylan does a little hip shake, and I can’t argue.

He turns around, dancing off the stage, and while Garrett and Craig are hilarious, Hendrix is pure sex. Or maybe that’s just me speaking as the person sleeping with him.

“Oh, my gosh.” Rachel collapses on the chair. “We’d better get some rest if we’re going to be at the stables at ten.”

“I’ll bring hair of the dog!” Allie picks up the empty platters, and I help collect the cups and napkins, tossing them in the trash.

“You’re going to die when you see what Clint did with the place,” Rachel gushes. “It is absolutely gorgeous. I cried.”

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