Page 113 of Baby Girl
“I laughed at one point.”That I played off as a cough.
“That was super communicative of you.”
“Is that even a word?” A smile is creeping its way onto my face as I watch the little car icon on my screen creep closer.
“Yes, that’s a word. Jeez. What do you take me for?” A car door slams, then all background noise drops. “Okay, I’ve just gotten into my ride. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Hey, Oaks?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for being my bosom buddy.”
“Oh my god, you are never going to let me live that down!” She laughs.
“Nope, we are going to be old and saggy and still be bosom buddies.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine. But I get to pick where we live.”
Grinning stupidly big, I reply as my ride pulls up. “Deal.”
Chapter 62
Emery
“Where did Will ask you to meet him?” Oakley yells into my ear, but I can still barely hear her over the loud-as-fuck music.
We’ve only been here for a few minutes, squashed up against the wall of what I assume is normally the main living area but is currently a dance floor, and I’m already ready to leave.
“He didn’t really say,” I try to yell back, but I’m not sure she hears me.
This whole situation is a massive sensory overload. How the hell do people like these things?
I don’t think I have ever seen this many people crammed into such a small space. Not that the hockey team’s frat house is small; it’s actually a mini-mansion. There are just people everywhere. I’m pretty sure there are two people fucking in the corner to my right.
There is an actual DJ set up in the other corner, with flashing lights and everything. And because the music is so loud, everyone is yelling, adding exponentially to the volume.
And there is skin. So much skin. Everywhere. The vast majority of partygoers have come as Beach Barbie and Beach Ken, even though nighttime temperatures have gotten quite low over the last few days. Just walking the thirty feet from where the Uber dropped us off to the front door left me shivering.
I feel like we might have gotten the vibe wrong. My hot pink strapless body-con dress and black strappy heels do not fit in with all the bikinis, leis, Hawaiian print, and sarongs. Not to mention the blonde wig that comes down to my ass and the thick, chunky plastic jewelry Oakley had me buy.
Hopefully this is what Will had in mind when he suggested we dress up as classic Barbie and Ken.
And Oakley’s outfit. Oh my god. Nineties aerobics Barbie. It had taken us more than a few activewear shops to get all the pieces for her outfit. Plain white sneakers, which she already owned, green leg warmers, purple spandex tights down past her knees, a bright blue, sparkly, one-piece swimsuit that has a thicker crotch than ass area, sweat bands on her wrists and around her forehead, and a ponytail so high, she’ll likely have a headache later.
But she looks fucking hot, if not a little weird.
Even with how we are pressed against the wall, people still bump into us, like right now, when a guy with black hair, a purple lei, no shirt, and boardshorts practically falls to his knees in front of us, using my hip to catch himself.
“Oof!” I grunt under the extra weight, concern for my ankles in these heels setting off alarm bells in my head.
He manages to right himself, but the only problem with that is, our faces are now only a few inches apart, and his breath smells like it belongs in a chem lab. “Oh, hey, sexy, are you having a good night?”
I raise an eyebrow and shove a hand against his chest, forcing him away from me. “Not interested.”
“Aww, don’t be like that, babe. Let’s have some fun together,” he cajoles, punctuating the end of his sentence with a beer-scented burp.
“Fuc—” I start, but then he is yanked away from me, and I get a split-second view of a familiar boy-next-door face with a very unfamiliar thunderous expression before he rounds on the guy, completely blocking me from view.
