Page 75 of Call the Shots
THE NO FIGHTING RULE
For Montoya’s birthday,my dorm looked like the casting call forBen-Hur.Which was by design. When the hockey players showed up in jeans, I marched them to their rooms. Seriously,jeans?For a toga party? Not on my watch. I tied bedsheets around their shoulders until we were ready to celebrate Montoya, the only one who came prepared.
“Mm-hmm, Ma,” he said quietly to the phone. He was in a complete Gladiator’s costume, with a red mohawk helmet that had to be taken off whenever he walked under door frames. “Yes, Ma.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Montoya.” Nick looped an arm around Montoya’s shoulders. “We’ll take good care of Kid’s Toy.”
I butted in. “Nobody’s calling him that, it’s his birthday.”
“I don’t want my baby inanytrouble,” Mrs. Montoya warned. “He’s my youngest, my shining star, the blood of my heart, the fire of my soul?—”
“Ma.”
Elijah guffawed. “You’re the youngesteverywhere?”
“Nothing will happen to him,” Fridge assured her before Montoya said a goodbye to his mom, and another goodbye, and a final goodbye, ending the call.
“Okay.” Montoya whirled back, mohawk helmet teetering dangerously. “I’m ready to getsloshed!”
I had everything prepared, a special bottle of Tequila and a round of Marrs shot glasses. Montoya was from Illinois, Fridge was from Florida, and Nick was from Minnesota. I needed to show these boys a Texas party. I opened the fridge, searching for limes.
Bear arrived with a curse under his breath. “Sorry, captain bullshit took forever—we’re out of so much shit. Skate laces—fucking skate laces—how are we out of skate laces? What the hell are you guys wearing?”
“It’s a great breeze for your nuts,” Elijah boasted.
“Pleasesay you’re wearing underwear,” I pleaded.
“You’re actually dressing up for the party?” Bear asked.
“Uh, you’re dressing up too,” I said, shutting the fridge.
Bear fell silent when I walked out of the kitchen, his eyes dropping to my dress. “June.”
Of course, Bear, too cool to dress up for frat parties, wanted to make fun of me for going all out. “It’s an old greek goddess costume, I wear it for toga parties. And Halloween three years ago.”
Thank goodness it still fit. My Playboy bunny and cat girl costumes were in storage, waiting until I could wear them again. I had too much hip now.
“I—uh…” Bear blinked a few times and met my eyes again. “We need to talk.”
“You need to get dressed first.” I motioned towards his bedroom.
The guys took shots behind us, Fridge offering moral support to Montoya through it.
“That’s so gross,” Montoya coughed.
Fridge chuckled. “You don’t drink it for the flavor.”
I motioned towards Bear’s bed. “You need a bed sheet for the toga, I’ll show you how to tie it.”
“Do Ihaveto wear something?”
Montoya’s voice flowed from the kitchen. “You two aren’t fighting, right?”
Our eyes met again. I forgot about the tentative truce during Montoya’s birthday. No fighting, no arguing, no snappy one-liners. It was going to be a long night.
I raised my voice. “We’re not arguing!”
“No fighting,” Bear confirmed.
