We got a booth in the back corner so he could drink beer, play pool, throw some darts, and still snack on our food when it arrived. I played a game against him, and that was when the guys really started coming over. They weren’t hitting on me, not really, but I hadn’t been prepared for the open curiosity about who I was, why hadn’t Gage brought me around before, and how old I was. The age was asked the most, and the second question—why I’d stayed hidden for so long. Gage just laughed at my expression. I was forced to explain how I banned Gage from my life, which made me seem like a crazy person.
Some of the girls understood. Most the guys didn’t care.
One guy asked, “What if I see you on campus? Can I say hi?”
“If I’m alone.”
He started laughing as if he thought I was kidding, but then he realized I wasn’t. “Oh. You’re serious.”
I was taking it a bit far, but whatever. Gage was one thing. Shay, too, but I was friends with Linde. There was nothing there where people could use me to get to him. Same thing with these guys. And the girls who had come over so far, they were already on good terms with Gage. Most were friendly when they met me as the sister, expressed how it made sense because of the whole twin look-a-like, and that was it. No one lingered to become my best friend.
I was starting to wonder if I should rethink the whole philosophy about Gage. Shay, fuck no. People would go batshit crazy if they knew I knew him, even the fact that he’d called me a couple times would make my friends pass out. No, but with Gage, maybe. I watched him after we ate as he was chatting with a bunch of girls.
It hit me then. They didn’t need to use me to get to him. He was open, very open to all the girls. I didn’t know his status as a manwhore. I knew when he had girlfriends. He talked to me about them, but not his one-night stands. I knew too much about that part of his life in high school because I couldn’t get away from the girls. They were in the same classes, but college was different. He could’ve been taking a new girl home every night, and the chances I didn’t know them were good. Really good. Exceedingly good. And I was becoming happier as the night wore on.
I lost track of time, and I lost track of Gage.
Some of his friends sat in the booth with me, and the pitchers started coming after that. I wasn’t a big drinker, never had been, but that night I became one. Maybe it was the dick-in-the-hands moment, or that once the video started circulating, Gage’s friends recognized me and began shielding me themselves when people came over to talk about the video. Halfway through my third beer, I was nicknamed the Dick Crusher. That would’ve had me going for the door if I’d been sober. I stayed and I laughed, and I thought Dick Crusher was hilarious.
I was drunk.
I wasn’t paying attention to my bladder until it demanded to be released. I was the farthest inside the booth, so I tapped on the girl next to me. She and the guy on the edge scooted out.
Time was of the essence.
I dashed for the nearest bathroom, praying for an empty stall. The smallest one was, and I ran for it. I was washing my hands afterward, trying to smooth down my hair when two shrieking girls entered the bathroom.
Goddamn. My hair was a mess.
“Kennedy Clarke?”
I knew that voice. I’d spoken to it earlier today.
I looked in the mirror. Yep, Becs (now Becca) and another girl came in. Unlike me, who was dressed for a football game since I never changed, they were not. More makeup, a fresh coat of glitter on their faces and chests, and both wore slinky dresses. Her dress was cut short on her legs, but she had the one-sleeve thing going, along with a necklace that dipped low into her cleavage. Her long hair was shiny and hanging free. Her friend’s dress was gold-colored and sleeveless.
I forgot my annoyance for a second.
Lowering my hands, I turned around. “Wow. You look nice.”
She was holding a beer but glanced down. “Thank you.” I think she forgot the mutual dislike as well.
“Who’s this?” Her friend wanted to know.
We both remembered.
I snarled.
She wrinkled her nose. “This is the girl I was telling you about that’s in my poli-sci class.”
“Her?”
The disdain was taught. Her friend had it mastered.
“Where’s Aby?” I asked.
Becca motioned behind her with the beer. “Out there somewhere.” She began laughing. “We should start researching tonight. The whole gang’s here.”
I went still. “What?”
“Yeah.” Becca moved aside as her friend jerked into my emptied stall. “Linde’s up by the bar, and Shay just came in.” She snorted, moving to the sink beside me and reaching up to smooth some of her own hair. One imaginary strand might’ve not been in place. The perfection would’ve been marred. Wait. She moved the one strand, and whew. I felt the relief flooding out of me.
Perfect, once again.
That’d been close.
“I hear you’re a celebrity.”
“Huh?”
“The video.” She sipped her drink, waiting for her friend to come out. The other stall was occupied. The person had been in there when I came in and still was. “Where you grabbed a guy’s dick and not in the porno way.”
“Oh, yeah. Dick Crusher.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I frowned. “Linde and Shay are here?”
She nodded, raking me up and down as she took another sip. “Speaking of the rest of the upperclassmen, what are you doing here? How’d you get in?”
To incriminate my brother or not? I was feeling light and tipsy. Incriminate, it was. “My brother brought me here to eat.” I shrugged. “We stayed.”
Her eyes sharpened. “Your brother?”
“Gage.” I wasn’t going to spell it out. The girl had to think a little. If she figured it out, oh, well. If not, kudos for me.
I couldn’t remember if I washed my hands. I better do them again.
Becca was quiet. I could feel her watching me, but her friend shoved open the bathroom stall. She came out, swaying as she zipped up her pants. “Your brother is Gage Clarke?”
“Ew, Lia. Flush the toilet.”
“Oh.” She did and came back. The same excitement hadn’t waned. Her eyes were bright and her face flushed. “Gage Clarke. Right?”
Becca didn’t move into the stall. She stood by her friend as both stared at me.
I shrugged. “Aren’t you going to wash your hands?”
“Gage Clarke is your brother?”
Neither moved.
I answered Becca, “I just told you that.”
“Why didn’t you say something in the beginning?”
“Why would I?”
Her mouth opened and hung there.
Her friend translated, “Because Gage Clarke is hot!”
“Oh.” I rolled my eyes, wishing I had brought my own drink. “See. This. You. You’re why I don’t say anything, because now you’re going to be all nice to me, and I know it’s fake.”
“It’s fake?”
“You’re being fake. My brother will either sleep with you or he won’t.” I pounded my chest and fell backward into the sink. “I have no bearing on that. At all.” I almost fell the other way, but caught myself. I pointed to Becca’s beer. “Are you going to drink that? Have you backwashed into it?”
“What?”
The friend snagged it from her and handed it over. “My name is Lia. When you talk to him, tell him how nice I am.” She pointed to Becca. “She’s a bitch, but not me. I was nice. Tell him.”
“I’m not going to remember your name.” I already forgot.
“Lia.”
“What?”
“LIA!”
“I’m not going to remember.” I leaned away from the sink to look at Becca, even though I could see her fine from where I was standing. “Your friend has a thing for my brother?”
She snorted, going into the stall. Finally. “Half the campus has a thing for your brother.” She grabbed ahold of the stall door on the top and pulled it shut with a firm and decisive click. The friend leaned forward, beaming at me. “Lia. My name’s Lia.”