Page 34 of Stroke of Fate

“That’s not the point.” I say, then quickly add, “And no, that’s not me saying it is true in some weird, twisty way.”

“Tell me his Instagram handle. I need to see what we’re working with.”

“Do I have to?” I’m hesitant because I know exactly what she’ll see when she looks at it. Let’s just say Levi Marino is stupidly photogenic.

And yes, I’ve stalked him myself. After some online snooping, I found his Instagram page.

“Yessss,” she says, dragging out the word. “Now, hand it over. I have the app open.”

I mumble his handle. He only has three pictures; based on her reactions, I can tell exactly which one she’s looking at.

The “aw” she lets out is probably for the post of Levi with a dog. The soft sigh is for the photo of him with a friend I recognize from the night at Static. Mack is the tagged name in the post. His tattooed arm is draped around Levi's shoulder, and both of them are smiling wide for the camera. The audible gasp from her is for the picture that has since lived rent-free in my head: Levi, shirtless, on top of a mountain with the sunrise behind him. Evidently, eight-packs aren’t a myth.

“Bear, I’m going to be honest here. I don’t see what the problem is,” Pia says once she’s done ogling him.

“Don’t get distracted by his pretty face,” I practically whine.

“I’m not. But it is very pretty.” She giggles. “All I’m saying is don’t shut him down without giving him a chance.”

“What if we have it wrong, and he’s some weirdo who’s purposely popping up everywhere I am?” I say, even though I know it’s not true.

“Then you kick him in the balls and get the hell out of Dodge.” I let out a snort that quickly dies when Pia’s voice turns more serious.“Promise you’ll do me a favor.”

“What would I be promising?”

“That you’ll let yourself have fun where Levi is concerned. Not everything has to mean something.”

I understand the sentiment, but what worries me is how intense everything between us already feels. A touch isn’t just a touch. It’s a burning desire to have it go further. Which makes no sense at all, considering I hardly know him.

I don’t share any of that with Pia because I don’t fully understand it myself. Instead, I say that I’ll try my hardest.

“Good. You deserve it!”

The buzzing of my phone on the bathroom counter brings me back to the present, and I drop the mascara tube in my hands. It’s Macy, letting me know she’s on her way. We’re grabbing an Uber from my place and picking up Elsie on the way.

I’ll take Pia’s advice tonight and try to have fun—because she’s right about one thing. I do deserve that much.

***

“Whoa, this is insane,” I mumble, staring up at the three-story brick house that’s currently overflowing with people and loud music spilling out from inside.

“I can’t believe you guys talked me into this,” Macy grumbles beside me.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Elsie grins, tapping her fingers together mischievously. “Let’s see what the night has in store for us.”

Her excitement is infectious, and we follow her through the front door, where we’re immediately hit with even more chaos.

People are everywhere, and the flashing strobe lights make it difficult to see. Music pounds from the speakers in the living room, which has been transformed into a makeshift dance floor. The crowd is going wild, stomping and jumping to the beat.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Macy shouts over the noise.

Elsie and I nod, following her lead. She guides us to the kitchen, where the music is fainter, and we can hold a conversation without yelling.

“Shots or ciders?” Macy asks, looking between Elsie and me.

“Let’s start with a shot. What do you say, Bear?”

“A round of shots sounds good to me.”

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