Page 23 of Well That Happened

“One drink,” I say. “One song. If it sucks, I’ll personally walk you home.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “You’re very persistent.”

“It’s my best quality.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

I laugh. “You heardcorrectly. But I also happen to know you look amazing when you let loose.”

That gets her. A little smile. A spark.

“I don’t have time to get ready.”

“You don’t need time,” I say, standing. “You need jeans and five minutes.”

She groans, throws off the blanket, and heads toward the stairs. “If I end up with someone’s beer down my shirt again, you’re paying for dry cleaning.”

“Deal.”

Rilee disappears to her room. Half of me thinks she’ll pass out on the bed the moment she closes the door. The other half hopes she’ll come out and join me at the party.

I linger on the porch, pacing a little, sipping from a warm can of beer while the sky darkens. Hunter and Grayson left ten minutes ago, muttering something about “scouting the keg.”

When the door finally creaks open behind me, I turn—and forget how to function.

Rilee steps out, adjusting one hoop earring, phone in one hand, keys in the other. And holy hell.

Jeans that look painted on. Black tank top that clings like a second skin. Hair down, lips soft and flushed.

She’s not trying to look hot. Shejust is.

Her eyes flick up and catch mine.

“What?” she says, self-conscious. “Too much?”

I shake my head. “Never too much with you.”

She snorts, tugging on the hem of her shirt. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

I offer my arm, mock-formal. “Shall we?”

She hesitates for a second—then takes it.

We step through the front door, and the party swallows us whole—music thumping, bodies packed wall-to-wall, the air already heavy with beer and sweat and cheap cologne.

But everything slows the second we walk in.

Like the universe hit the mute button.

Conversations stutter.

Heads turn.

And yeah—people notice.

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