Page 33 of Wait With Me
Lysney comes striding through my back door. “The tiki bar is ready!” she exclaims with a swivel of her hips.
I have to stifle my laugh because she had to roll that thing all the way through her house and my house in order to get it to my back patio.
Even though we’re neighbors, there’s a giant privacy fence that separates our properties. When I first moved in, we got really drunk and tried to prop a ladder on either side of the fence so that we could flow freely between the two properties.
It did not end well.
Dryston ended up having to carry me up the stairs to bed because I hobbled into the house in pursuit of more vodka. But I lived to tell the tale so, silver lining.
“I also strung up my Edison bulbs back there,” Lynsey adds with eager eyes. “It’s great mood lighting. Perfect for meaningful conversation.”
“Or random hookups,” Dean adds, waggling his brows at me. “I invited some people from my co-working space, so there’ll be some fresh faces for you to maul in an alley, Kate.”
“Shut up, dick.” I kick my flip-flop at him, and he tosses it out the back door without even looking.
“Also”—I rub my hand over my forehead—“don’t forget to call me Mercedes tonight, remember?”
Lynsey rolls her eyes.
“I mean it. It’s the theme of the party since we’re celebrating my typing‘The End’as Mercedes. In my text, I told everyone coming that anyone who calls me Kate has to do a keg stand.”
“What?” Dean gasps, horrified. “This isn’t fucking cheap college beer, Kate!”
“Mercedes!” I correct. “And I’m banking on everyone hating that beer and no one wanting that horrific torture.”
“You get used to the hops!” he cries like a huge fucking sissy.
“If by hops, you mean poison, then I’ll pass,” I reply and do a final check on the appetizers spread out on the counter.
Lynsey sidles up next to me as I stir the meatballs in the slow cooker. “Are you going to take my advice then?” she asks, her voice quiet, but Dean’s comment of, “What advice?” means it definitely wasn’t quiet enough.
“No,” I groan and begin pointlessly readjusting the charcuterie platter.
Lynsey exhales heavily. “I told Ka—Mercedes that she should try to make Miles jealous tonight because it works. Tells her it works, Dean.”
Dean stops monkeying with the ice and hits me with a look. “It works.”
I frown, knowing that after what he shared with me out at Twin Peak the other day, there’s no way in hell I’d do that to him. “I’m not going to manipulate Miles into liking me.”
“He already likes you,” Lynsey corrects. “He just needs to like you enough to sleep with you.”
“He sounds like a tool, if you ask me,” Dean grumbles.
“He’s not a tool,” I defend. “He’s…I don’t know what he is. Getting over someone maybe? Gah. He only wants casual, and he doesn’t think I can be a casual girl.”
“Can you?” Lynsey asks, her brown eyes curious.
“Fuck yeah!” I exclaim with a little dance I think a casual, cool girl would do. “I write casual sex like it’s my job because it literally is.” I smile lamely at my dumb joke, and my friends are super impressed.
“Screw it, you guys are good down here, right? I’m going to go upstairs and get ready because I am officially going to be late for my own party. Lynsey, start the music and hold down the fort while I go beautify!”
“On it, boss!”
“Dean…guard that shitty beer.”
Forty-five minutes later, I stride down the steps to find my The End party in full swing. I’m dressed in a pair of lacy white shorts and a flowy nude tank with camel wedges. I’ve trussed my red hair up into a side braid down my shoulder, and I’m feeling footloose and fancy-free. I am ready to party.
Several of our old friends have made it out, as well as some new faces who Lynsey knows from grad school. I instantly get sucked into a conversation with a couple of girlfriends from college who all congratulate me on finishing. One calls me Kate, and I drag her into the kitchen to take a shot. Mostly because I think Dean might start crying if someone put their lips on his precious keg tapper.
