Page 11 of The Good Girl's Guide to Being Bad

Colton Freakin’ Bishop:sorry 2 interrupt your big “party”

Oh yeah, he sounded real sorry, I thought.

Me:No you’re not.

Colton Freakin’ Bishop:No. I’m not.

No way was I telling him Betty’s party ended—I checked the time and groaned—over four hours ago. Huffing out a frustrated breath, I turned the TV off, pulled my clothes back on, and fired off another text.

Me:On my way.

His response came through a second later.

Colton Freakin’ Bishop:Thanks, Sister Sadie. Knew I could count on you.

Me:Call me that again, and I will skinnnnn you!

I was feeling pretty great about that one. Thank you, Mr. Moriarty, for the inspiration. Colton was usually quick to respond, but this time it took at least a full minute. Smiling, I waited as the dots popped up indicating a text. The smile dropped a second later.

Colton Freakin’ Bishop:Nice one, S. Very creepy. But Daddy’s had enough now, and we both know I’m more bad guy than you’ll ever be.

I couldn’t believe he got that reference—but then I remembered I’d loaned Kyle mySherlockDVDs last month.

Colton Freakin’ Bishop:Catch you…later.

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed my purse, hating that he’d one upped me. And with a perfectly placed Sherlockian quote at that! The urge to throw my phone across the room was almost as great as my urge to punch Colton in the face. There was absolutely no way I was meant to be a nun because the urge only grew stronger on the 15-minute drive to the party. The scene I found upon arrival was a sorry sight indeed.

Kyle wasn’t just drunk.

He was a hot mess.

He and Colton and some girls I didn’t recognize were sitting on the porch as I drove up. Actually, one girl was leaning against Kyle with a dreamy expression while he looked seriously uncomfortable. The other was sitting in Colton’s lap, but whatever. That was normal, par for the course. Different party, different girl, Colton’s long list of conquests continued. The music was so loud it filtered out to the street. A few red Solo cups were scattered on the lawn. As I parked and got out, Kyle launched himself at me, nearly knocking me off my feet.

“Sister Sadie,” he laughed, planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek, and I stiffened. “Sadie, Sadie, Sadie. Where have you beeeeeen?”

Colton dragged him back and threw me a grin. “Glad you came. Kyle, here, has had a little too much fun tonight.”

“Fun?” I repeated. “He smells like the Budweiser frog threw up all over him.”

While Colton snickered, Kyle started laughing hysterically, slapping his thigh and swaying like a drunken bobble head.

“Holy smokes,” I muttered, catching his arm. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Colton helped me get Kyle into the passenger seat then slid into the back. It wasn’t until I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the two brunettes squeezed in on either side of Colton that I realized we had other passengers. Was this seriously happening?

“Did you need something?” I asked the one who’d been leaning on Kyle. She looked halfway asleep, but the other girl was busy running her hands all over Colton’s chest. Sleepy Girl and her sidekick Miss Bad Taste in Boys. Lovely.

Sleepy Girl blinked as if noticing me for the first time. “Oh, Colton said you wouldn’t mind taking us home. 342 Galveston Way, please.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Rolling my eyes, I shifted to face Colton. “You’re kidding me, right? I’m not a freaking taxi service.”

“Come on, Sadie,” he said. “I figured you’d be into this kind of thing, being the do-gooder type. As you can see, Hannah--”

“It’s Anna,” Sleepy Girl said.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” he grinned. “Anna and her hot friend, Liz, aren’t in any shape to drive.”

I looked the girls over and, beneath the smudged mascara and eye shadow, saw the same glassy-eyed look that I’d seen on my best friend. Crap. Was I the only sober one in this car?

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