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Placing the bottle to my lips, I tip my head back and relish how the cold lager soothes my parched throat on its way down to my beer-filled stomach. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Olivia walking over to us with an enormous plate of nachos in her hands. I lick my lips at the sight of the yummy food, not at her. She’s my best friend’s girlfriend, and I’m not that kind of guy.

Olivia Rose is one of those classic Audrey Hepburn types—slender and graceful, with her shiny black hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Tonight, she’s dressed as if she belongs in an upscale cocktail lounge, sipping Cosmopolitans with her girlfriends, not with Daniel and me in this shithole.

Daniel pulls her against him and presses a sloppy kiss to her temple. She rolls her eyes at the PDA but kisses him back. Ialsoroll my eyes, but my lips touch nothing but my lovely beer bottle.

As they keep kissing, I keep drinking. Soon, everything takes on this soft, hazy quality that should be a sign for me to switch to water. But it’s New Year’s Eve, a night when bad decisions and fuzzy memories reign supreme.

“What are you two talking about?” Olivia asks when she’s finally able to pull herself away from Daniel’s mouth.

“How the men’s room sucks.” I sing that last word—terribly—and pop a chip into my mouth.

Olivia rolls her eyes. “You men are so dramatic. You should see the ladies’ room.”

“I know you’re not talking about this one, Liv.” I gesture to the hallway with a jerk of my thumb. “Somehow, you all have a special system worked out in there. Care to share with the class?”

She shakes her head, smirking. “Feminine secrets. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Death by Olivia Rose,” Daniel muses. “There are worse ways to go, my friend.” He tips his beer bottle at me before taking a long swig.

I choke out a laugh as Olivia shoots him a withering glare. It disappears the instant he kisses her again.

For all their ups and downs, of which they’ve had many, I know they both genuinely care about each other. Sometimes, I find myself envious of what they have, even if they make it appear exhausting as hell.

As the night progresses, we settle into our usual dynamic of trading barbs, rehashing the dumb shit we did over the semester, and speculating on who’s going to make the most embarrassing drunken spectacle of themselves tonight.

Me.

I’m reaching for another chip when Olivia slams her hand down on the table and scares the ever-loving shit out of Daniel and me.

“I have an idea,” she cries out.

I instantly groan. Olivia’s ideas range from the inspired to theutterly insane, with very little in between. And more times than not, they’re at my expense. Like the time she dared me to eat a ghost pepper or when she convinced me to audition for the university’s production ofThe Rocky Horror Picture Show—as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, no less.

I don’t mind being Olivia’s go-to guinea pig, but sometimes, I think Daniel gets off too easily.

Except for that one time when she made him wear booty shorts to practice. The shocked expression on Coach’s face waspriceless.

I grin when I notice her eyes dart back and forth between me and him.Could it be? Is his luck finally about to run out? Please, dear God, say yes.

She reaches into her bag and, with a flourish, pulls out a small, nondescript package and slides it over to me.

I stop it with my hand, then pick it up, eyeing it warily.

“Open it,” she commands.

With trembling fingers, I tear open the package to find something pink and stretchy inside. Two somethings, actually.

I hold them up, and the flimsy material dangles from my fingertips. My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when I realize what it is I’m holding.

Mankinis. Fucking mankinis.

I wince at the thought of squeezing my decidedly not small frame into one of them.

“No way.” I shake my head vehemently. “Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

Olivia’s bottom lip juts out. “Oh, come on, Charlie. Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. You always do my dares.”

“Exactly. And for once, I’m saying, ‘no.’”