Page 124 of Well That Happened

Rilee

“I still can’t believe I let you drag me out,” I mutter. I’m tired and behind on studying, and to be honest, was not in the mood for a girl’s night out. But it’s Lexi, so of course I caved. I’ve missed her.

Lexi grins, swirling the straw in her dangerously pink cocktail. “Well, it was overdue. I needed proof of life. I also need updates.” She grins wickedly.

We’re tucked into a high-top at The Elm, the new bar off-campus that smells like coconut rum and questionable choices. There’s a guy at the pool table who keeps pretending not to look at Lexi, and another who straight-up walked into a stool trying to stare at her while sipping his beer.

She hasn’t noticed either.

I, on the other hand, am mid-crisis.

“So…” she says, setting her drink down and resting her chin on her hand. “Are we gonna talk about the fact that you’re living in a hockey sex compound now or nah?”

I groan and slump forward, my forehead hitting the table.

“That bad?” she teases.

“That confusing,” I correct, muffled by woodgrain. “It’s like living inside a hormone tornado.”

Lexi arches a brow. “So the night you texted me ‘do not disturb unless I text a safe word’—that was about Caleb and Grayson?”

I lift my head, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t even have time to think of a safe word.”

She whistles. “Damn. You’ve been busy.”

“It wasn’t planned. It just… happened.”

“And now?”

“And now Grayson looks at me like I’m breakable, Caleb keeps checking if I’ve eaten like he’s my hot Italian grandmother, and Hunter—well, he’s Hunter. Which means he alternates between glaring at me and looking like he wants to throw himself into traffic.”

Lexi sips her drink, eyes dancing. “Girl. That is not a triangle. That is a goddamn love pentagram. I am obsessed.”

“I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m overwhelmed.”

Lexi leans closer, like we’re sharing state secrets. “Okay, but be real. Was it good? Like, life-altering, can’t-wear-normal-jeans-anymore good?”

I pause.

Then nod.

She lets out a victorious gasp and does a quiet little shimmy. “YES. Rilee Jameson, my tiny tornado of self-denial—you have been converted.”

“I have not!” I hiss. “I’m still me. I still have finals and emotional baggage and a healthy fear of intimacy.”

“Yeah, but now you’ve got orgasms, too. Which, let’s be honest, are like emotional support fireworks.”

I choke on my drink, coughing as it goes down the wrong pipe.

She grins and leans back. “So what’s the problem?”

I hesitate. Then glance around and lower my voice.

“I haven’t told them yet.”

Lexi frowns. “Told them what?”

“That my brother is coming to stay. For a few days.”

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