Page 63

chapter twenty-two

“I’m not saying to get your friends drunk so they screw. All I’m saying is — well if you have no other option, why not try Jack Daniels? Seems to work on The Bachelor at least ten percent of the time, and when you’re already losing, ten percent looks pretty nice doesn’t it?”

~From Max Emory’s Guide to Dating and Other Important Life Lessons

Maddy

My head pounded as if someone was building a house in my brain. I winced as I touched my temples and then opened my eyes.

People were spread out everywhere, lying on the grass, snoring, puking. Good times.

Well, we went out to relive high school. This looks like senior year all over again. I would laugh, but I feel like puking.

A bottle of water appeared in my line of vision, and then Jason was kneeling in front of me with a small container whose label indicated it was for said hangover.

Wait. I’d been so angry. And then there’d been shots.

More shots.

The pool…

My eyes lowered to the jeans he was wearing and what he was hiding behind that zipper.

I felt my face heat as I suddenly recalled all the naughty things we’d done in the water, in public, mere feet from everyone we’d graduated with.

“Tell me nobody saw,” I whispered hoarsely.

“They were too drunk. Besides, we were under the rock alcove,” Jason said softly. “Now, drink everything.”

My stomach heaved as I chugged half of the water down, grabbed the pills from the tiny bottle that claimed to heal all hangovers, and chased them with more water.

“Give it ten minutes.” He peeled off his shirt and handed it to me.

I looked down and groaned. “Did I pass out in this tiny bikini?”

He licked his lips. “Yeah. Trust me, it was torture.”

“So, you’re covering me for your sake?”

“That…” he put the shirt over my head, “…and if I see one more married man check you out, I’m grabbing my gun.”

“Oh.” My cheeks warmed. That was sweet, in its own way.

“You’re beautiful, Maddy,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I leaned into the warmth of his lips, closed my eyes, and just breathed him in, right about the same time I heard a horn go off.

It was loud.

Like something you’d hear at a basketball game.

Three gorgeous women — including Jason’s sister — stood, arms crossed, surveying the damage.

It was obvious what they saw — barely dressed twenty-seven-year-olds lying around in disarray, beer cans, liquor, straws floating in the pool, not to mention the naked classmate still grasping the floating unicorn and sobbing about his divorce.

“MAX!” The one with dark hair stepped forward. “WHAT IN THE HELL!?”

Max stumbled forward and then gave his head a shake, as if he was trying to sober up but lacked the ability to follow through without the physical cue. “Becca? You’re…” he swayed so hard to the right, I was afraid he was going to slam his head against the side of the pool house, “…here! Now we can celebrate!”

“Of course I’m here!” Becca smacked him on the arm. “You drunk-dialed me three hours ago and said you were drowning!”