Page 117 of Headstrong Like Us

And you know them now. All seven.

“OH MY GOD!” girls shriek.

I try not to smile or act too eager. But subtly, my eyes graze over the masses, hunting for him.

Farrow weaves between bodies, his radio mic attached to the collar of a black button-down. Sleeves rolled, tattoos cascade down his arms. His shirt molds his lean, muscular build—stop staring.

My brain receives the message and denies the order.

Is he coming over here or going to the bar?

I can’t tell, and suddenly, all my cousins bum-rush the dance floor, joining me and my siblings. We jump together as a remix of “Space Jam” plays, and my pulse thumps in anticipation.

He’s not coming over here.

I lose sight of Farrow in the bouncing throngs. He probably just stopped by to talk to the temp bodyguards.

Shoving away disappointment, I shake my brother’s shoulders. He smiles at me and bobs his head more.

Jane hooks her arm around my shoulders, the muscle no longer sore. “You’re going to be married in four weeks!”

My smile aches my cheeks. “You sure we’re not in another universe?”

“Definitely not! This universe is decidedly reserved for happiness! And you deserve that and more!!”

“Toi aussi!”So do you.I kiss her cheek.

She squeezes me in a side-hug before letting go, and that’s when SFO joins the dance pit. Thatcher catches Jane’s hand and twirls her into his chest. She collides into him and looks up at his towering height, breathless.

Where is Farrow?I jump slower and scan the bodyguards for the missing one.

“Looking for me?” Farrow whispers against my ear.

My face revolts against me. I instantlysmile.And I force my lips down, somewhat, before rotating to him. Only an inch shorter, we’re pretty eye-level.

“No,” I retort, his mouth too close to mine.

His brows rise.

“Not even a little bit.” I stare at his lips. “I was admiring the lights.”

“Okay.”

My eyes drift to his cheekbone where little x’s are marked on his skin. I press my hand to his cheek like my fingers are drawn there by some invisible pull. “What’s this?”

He grins. “A game.”

A game?

Longing pumps in me. I wish I had been there with him. But I’ve played enough party games to connectsomeof the dots. “I take it these are all the times you lost.” My hand falls to my side. “I thought the object of the game is tonotlose?”

“You’re such a smartass.” But he’s looking at me like I’m that and more. “I won more than I lost.” His smile recedes suddenly, his concern brushing over me. “You’re doing okay?”

I feign surprise. “Didn’t you hear?” I have to shout as the music booms. “I got a lap dance from Magic Mike!”

His face falls.

My stomach clenches. “Just kidding!”