Brenna recovers quickly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you. I think I’m sitting on your phone, Fitz.” She makes a big show of shifting around, then slides her hand in my pocket and pulls out my phone. “This was digging into my butt.”

“Hot,” Hollis says.

She ignores him again, probably because she’s focused on fishing her own phone out of the pocket of her black hoodie. The sweatshirt is half unzipped, revealing the tops of a black lacy bra. Only Brenna would wear a zip-up with nothing but a bra underneath.

She texts something one-handed, and I stifle a resigned sigh when my phone buzzes. I nonchalantly read the message.

BRENNA: Please please tell me that boner isn’t because of me!

The sigh slips out.

When she raises her eyebrow, I quickly type, No.

BRENNA: OK good. It was there before I sat down so I assumed it wasn’t me. Just making sure, tho. You and I aren’t meant to be, sweet Fitzy. I’d eat you alive

Ha. She’d eat any man alive. And for some reason, I feel the stupid need to justify why I have a boner. Or rather, had, because the poor fella has retreated like a Confederate soldier.

ME: Chick sent me some nudes right b4 u got here. I’m a guy. Shit happens

* * *

BRENNA: Think about Hollis. That always kills my desire

I laugh out loud, causing everyone to look in my direction.

“What’s so funny?” Summer asks lightly.

I set the phone on the table and pick up my beer bottle. “Nothing. A friend just sent me a funny meme.”

“Your mean your girlfriend?” Summer’s tone doesn’t sound as light and airy anymore. A darker note threads through it, something I can’t quite decipher.

Nate looks surprised. “You have a girlfriend? Since when?”

“Is she hot?” asks Hollis.

Brenna wads up a napkin and throws it at him.

He catches it easily. “Hey, it’s a valid question.”

She sighs. “It’s never a valid question when it comes from you.”

“She’s pretty,” Summer says grudgingly.

I’m a bit lost. I thought this was a joke conversation, but obviously she’s referring to a real person. Suddenly it occurs to me. “Oh, you mean Nora?”

Summer’s mouth flattens in thin line. “Yup.”

“You don’t sound like a fan,” Nate says, lips twitching in humor.

She shrugs, reaching for her vodka cranberry. She takes a demure sip, and I see every guy in the booth eyeing her lips. “I think she’s condescending. And she was rude to me because I admire a Nazi sympathizer.”

Hunter chokes on his beer mid-sip. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Chanel,” Summer explains. “Chanel’s my idol, and Fitz’s girlfriend—”

“Not my girlfriend—”

“—wouldn’t shut up in class about how Chanel was a wartime criminal.” Summer juts her chin stubbornly. “Allegedly.”

Nate snorts.

“How dare she,” Brenna says mockingly.

“Wait, this is your girlfriend?” Matt asks me.

“No. We went on one date,” I say in aggravation. “I doubt there’ll be a second one.”

Summer’s contemplative gaze fixes on me. “No?”

I shrug. “Probably not.”

Nora and I have texted a few times since we went for drinks, but to be honest I’m not feeling the click. Nora’s really nice, but the chemistry isn’t quite there. I’m usually a believer that two dates are required before you completely write someone off. People are always nervous on the first date. Maybe Nora was anxious, and that’s why the conversation felt so stilted.

When she suggested we go out again, I said yes, but I haven’t followed up on it. Now I’m not sure if I will. The fact that I jerk off every morning to fantasies of another girl kinda tells me everything I need to know about my feelings for Nora.

“Okay, clearly our server is never coming back,” Brenna announces, sliding off my lap. “I’m going to order a drink at the bar.”

“I’ll come with you,” Summer offers, and Matt gets up to let her out of the booth.

We all turn to admire the two girls as they walk away. Two pairs of skinny jeans means two amazing asses for us to salivate over, and the sleek bare skin of Summer’s back is an added bonus. It means she’s not wearing a bra, and my mouth turns to sawdust as another dirty image flies into my brain—Summer’s naked tits jiggling softly with each sultry step she takes.

Nate gives a low whistle. “Da-yum. They really are the hottest girls in this place.”

“Everyone wants to kick our asses,” Matt agrees, smiling ruefully.

“Eh. We can take them,” Hunter assures him. That’s not an exaggeration. Summer and Brenna might be the hottest girls in the bar, but we’re the biggest guys in the bar.

From the corner of my eye, I see the girls approach the counter. Another shadow crosses my peripheral. I glance over and hide a frown. Some guy in a black polo shirt is chatting up Brenna, who touches his forearm and says something that makes him guffaw loudly.

“She is smokin’,” Hollis says with a heavy, soul-sucking sigh. His blue eyes are locked on Brenna.

“Aw, why so glum, chum?” Nate mocks.

“Yeah, you should be wearing a perma-smile because that gorgeous chick actually fooled around with you,” Hunter pipes up. “That’s probably how Jesus felt when he turned water into wine.”

Matt and Nate snicker.

Hollis flips up his middle finger, but he doesn’t offer his characteristic douchebag response. He simply picks up his glass.

I lift one eyebrow. “What, you’re not gonna say that it wasn’t a miracle because you’re such a stud, et cetera, et cetera?”

Rather than answer, he chugs the rest of his beer, as if he needs the liquid courage to speak his next words.

“Guys. I think maybe she only hooked up with me that night because she was bored.”

Everyone goes dead silent.

Hunter’s the first to laugh. I can’t help it—I do too. Then Nate and Matt join in.

Hollis buries his face in his hands. When he lifts his head, he’s scowling. “You guys are the most unsupportive assholes I’ve ever met.”

“Dude, she cuts you down every time she sees you,” Hunter finally says, but I don’t miss the way his tone has softened. He’s trying to let Mike down gently.

I feel bad letting Hunter do this alone, so I speak up too. “It’s not gonna happen,” I tell Hollis.

“It might,” he protests.

We all look to the bar again. Brenna flips her long, dark hair over one shoulder. She’s still with the frat boy. I can tell he’s in a frat not just because of the polo shirt, but because a couple of his friends have joined him, and one is wearing a hoodie with the Sigma Chi logo on it. The other one is talking to Summer.

I notice Hunter’s shoulders stiffening as he watches Summer and the guy. Luckily, the bartender finally gives the girls their drinks. I didn’t see any money exchanging hands, which tells me the male barkeep is as enamored with them as everyone else in this bar.