Page 131 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

“What?” Vince asked.

Scar bit back a smile. “You’ll see.”

Turns out he and Kane have played these games a lot since summer started. Kane couldn’t exactly go out and explore the town, so he occupied himself the best he could—by ordering a bunch of games and kicking Scar’s ass at them over and over.

Brooke cheers when Vince begins taking his pants off, and Cal turns up the volume of the stereo as if to spur Vince on.

I might worry about the loud music if it weren’t for the fact that I’m feeling buzzed, relaxed, and surprisingly unaffected by Brooke eye-fucking Kane.

The girls cheer louder at the sight of Vince’s sculpted, tattooed body and the dark briefs covering the bulge in his pants. He doesn’t look small, that’s all I’ll say.

Brooke shapes her hands into a megaphone and shouts, “Take it off!”

He’s down to his underwear now, and I’m certain he’s going to wuss out until he slips his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and—

The sound of the doorbell scares the shit out of us.

“Fuck.” Vince snaps out of it, leaping off the pool table and picking his pants up.

He shoves his legs into his jeans while balancing himself on his right foot and then his left and takes off toward the front door.

I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the cops grilling us about a noise complaint. It’s past 1:00 a.m., and the music is way too loud.

Cal lowers the volume of the stereo as soon as Vince dashes out of the room, and we try to listen in, but it’s no use.

The game room is on the opposite side of the house, as far as can be from the front door. It’s a miracle we even heard the doorbell.

A few seconds elapse before music cuts through the air again, but this time, it doesn’t come from Vince’s pricey speakers but from my phone.

I’m getting a call from Maggie.

I have no idea what she’s doing calling me at this hour, but I figure she forgot about the time difference between Italy and North Carolina.

Or maybe she butt-dialed me since we talked on the phone a few days ago.

I’m about to pick up, but the call disappears from my screen. I get a text from her a few seconds later. It’s a picture of her holding a mimosa at brunch with some Italian stallion kissing her cheek.

I grin, texting her back.

Hadley

Who’s this guy? What happened to the hottie on your stories?

Maggie

That’s over. I’m with Antonio now. At least I think that’s what his name is. I don’t understand much of what he says.

Hadley

MAG! You ask the young man what his name is right now!

Maggie

Trust me, telling me his name is the LEAST interesting thing he can do with his mouth.

I chuckle at her shameless message. This girl is incorrigible.

At least she doesn’t lie to you…

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