Page 68 of Outspoken

“Fun?” I say, glancing at the puked-on woman who is now frozen in shock. “I don’t know, man.”

Dustin pushes me in front so I can enter the chaos first. “I'm sure there are women here who are wifey material,” he says, half-smiling at me, “since that's all you're into.”

“You know I keep an open mind but—” I nod toward a woman who is so high she's digging through the dirt in a large planter, lifting her hands and staring as clumps fall through her fingers. “Where the hell did you bring me?”

With a laugh, he slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Not her, so one down, a few hundred to go.”

I stare at the mass of bodies.A few hundred is right.

“I gotta find a bathroom,” Dustin says, scrubbing his waves. “Meet you at the drinks if we can both find them.”

“Sure.”

Bodies press in around me as I wander, searching for blonde women who might be Brody’s sister. After locating a few blondes that are either too tall or too short to be Amber, I realize I'm lost, the crowd and thumping music swallowing me like they’re alive. The mansion is a marbled maze of endless rooms and hallways. I may never see Dustin or the light of day again.

I finally locate the kitchen, which has a granite-top island filled with booze, and decide to linger. I text Dustin my location and an SOS.

I'm not much of a drinker—and I don’t want to be here all night—so I grab a soda from the fridge and lean against the counter to wait. Once I reconnect with Dustin, we’ll search together and then hopefully get some food because my stomach is eating itself.

As I chill, I scan the crowd in the large kitchen and the people I can see through the archway. There might be potential here—potential friends, potential lovers—but I’m too melancholy to start chatting people up.

It's hard to focus on finding 'wifey' with everything going on in my life. Not everyone finds their soulmate. I think I'm too much and it scares women away. It'll probably scare wifey away so she ends up with another man.

Mom's voice floats through my mind like it often does:There's always a plan, mi cielito. Just have faith.

I finish my drink and toss the cup. Dustin is taking forever, so he either got lost or he found some chick to flirt with.

“Shut up, Amber,” a female voice whines from the hallway.

A second later, two women appear and approach the kitchen island, both wobbly on their heels and clutching their purses. They both have blonde hair, each wearing a skin-tight tube dress—one black, the other pink.

The one wearing pink has matching pink shoes and legs that are long and shapely. My eyes follow her legs up to an ass that's perfection, then along the delicate curve of her back since she's facing away. Ringlets of blonde hair cascade over her delicate, exposed shoulders.

I can only see her back, but I’m already captivated.

She turns and I catch her eye roll. “Shut up what, Ashley? You said it to him, not me. Now you think either of them will call?” She grabs a random bottle without looking at the label and pours a shot. “Spikey Hair was a damn fantastic kisser, and you tell his friend we can't double date next Wednesday because your phone said you'll be on your period? You don't tell any guy that. Not even when you fucking marry him. You go about your lady business and hide the tampon wrappers.” She swallows the shot and then twists her face, sticking out her tongue in disgust. “Ugh. What asshat brought Jaeger?”

I stifle my laugh. Her face is round with sexy, full lips and azure-blue eyes. She has a lot of makeup on, but I can tell she’s even more beautiful underneath. Her playful, amused expression shows she has more going for her than just looks, though. She carries herself boldly—a woman who stands her ground and speaks her mind.

I think I see a resemblance to Brody—she's the right height—but part of me isreallyhoping I’m mistaken.

“Yeah, well, mine are unbearable,” her friend says. “I wanted him to know I'm not being flakey. I have an actual reason for ditching. Just wanted to reschedule, you know?”

“Ashley, you pop some ibuprofen and muscle through that shit. I'm on my period rightnow. My uterus is onfire, but here I am not letting that stop my good time.”

Ashley makes a face. “Eww. No wonder you were going to the bathroom so much.”

Amber laughs and grips the island for balance. “Don't say 'eww'. You're the one who started over-sharing.”

They laugh and then Ashley digs through her purse, pulling out a plastic bag of orange pills. “Oh, I brought Addy. You want one now?”

Before Amber can hold out her hand, a guy with tattoos on both arms approaches them with a strained smile. “Hey, found you,” he says to Amber. “You never met me upstairs.”

She and Ashley exchange a look. “Sorry,” she says, still looking at Ashley. “Think I’m cramping.” Both women try to hide their laughs.

The guy doesn't laugh. His expression turns hard and he steps closer, grabbing Amber's wrist forcefully.

Ashley shrinks away.

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