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I drop my head onto the table, the cool surface soothing against my forehead.

Blake’s voice softens, losing its edge. “That bad, huh?”

I lift my head just enough to look at her. “I don’t know what I’m doing, B. It’s Brandon. He’s an asshole. A really hot, surprisingly sweet asshole, but still.”

The waitress appears with our shots, and I grab one, downing it in a single burning gulp. The alcohol settles warm in my belly, loosening the knot of tension between my shoulders.

“Hormones.” Serena shrugs. “He made you come. Sex fucks with our brains.”

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “What do I do?”

“Fuck him,” Serena says immediately. “Get him out of your system. Or keep him. As I said, they’ll stay if you do.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s just sex.” She lifts a shoulder. “Have fun, scratch that itch, and move on. Trust me, it works wonders. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? With Brandon, it already means something. Too much.

I turn to Blake, expecting her usual blunt agreement. But she’s uncharacteristically quiet.

“B?” I prompt.

“I don’t know,” Blake says. “Maybe that’s not the best idea.”

This time, Serena and I exchange shocked glances. Blake, turning down the chance to endorse casual sex? Has the world stopped spinning?

“Who are you? Where is our Queen B?” Serena demands.

Blake flips her off. “Look, I just… I’ve seen how you get around him, Nay. I’ve never seen you like this before. Not with Jason or Liam or any of the other douche canoes you’ve dated.”

I slump back in my seat, the fight draining out of me. “So what am I supposed to do? I can’t just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Serena asks.

“I need a shot.” I stand up.

Blake frowns. “Nay.”

“Just one more.” I hold up a finger. “To take the edge off.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but Serena cuts in. “I’ll go with her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Blake hesitates, then nods. “But if she comes back with a tattoo or a piercing, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“Noted.” Serena loops her arm through mine.

We weave our way through the club, bodies pressing against us from all sides.

“So, on a scale of one to ten, how good was it really?” Serena flags down the bartender and orders.

“I’m not giving you details.”

“Oh, come on.” She pouts. “I tell you everything about Kevin and me.”

“Against my will.” I shudder. “There are some things a friend should never know.”

She laughs, the sound bright and carefree. I envy her sometimes, the way she moves through life with such ease. Like nothing can touch her.

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