Lori barely looks at her, focusing instead on a confused-looking Tad. “Parker and I made a pact. We’ve got to be heading home by eleven or we’re really going to regret it at our eight a.m. meeting tomorrow.”
Parker’s nose scrunches for a second, and I suspect she’s about to point out that they don’t have an eight a.m. meeting tomorrow. And I know for a fact that there’s been no previously discussed eleven o’clock curfew, but Terri and Tad don’t need to know that.
I push back from the bar. “All right, fine,” I say, fishing a few bills out of my wallet as a tip for the bartender. “But next time you two drag me out, do it on a Friday,” I say with a little wink for Terri.
She frowns. “You’re leaving?”
I shrug. “I’m their designated walker.”
Lori snorts, but I actually mean it. Parker and I are about a ten-minute walk from the bar, and Lori’s a fifteen-minute walk, and no way am I letting either of them do it alone, even if it’s a tame Monday night in even tamer Portland.
Lori gives Parker about thirty seconds to mutter something soothing to Tad before reaching forward and grabbing Parker’s wrist. “Gotta go.”
When we’re outside the bar, Parker skids to a halt and stares at the two of us. “Wait, so that’s it? We’re done?”
“You said you wanted practice,” Lori says with a shrug. “You got it.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No way were you going home with that dude,” I tell her, catching her elbow as she teeters just slightly in her high heels.
“Yeah. No, I mean…no, I didn’t want to,” she says. “He spent the entire time talking about football plays. But what about you guys? I don’t want the evening to be a total waste just because my first attempt at a hookup was a dud.”
“Oh, not a total waste,” Lori says, grinning as she fishes a business card out of her back pocket and flashes it at Parker. “I got myself the phone number of a guy who’s co-owner of that new Mexican place on Twelfth.”
“Of course you did,” Parker says with an indulgent sigh, before turning to me. “What about you? That redhead was totally giving you signals.”
“Ah, Parks,” I say, hooking an arm around her neck and pulling her in the direction of home. “I know.”
“But…don’t you want…you usually…”
Mimicking Lori’s motion just seconds before, I fish a cocktail napkin out of my pocket with a phone number scribbled on it.
Parker stares at it dumbly. “How…when?”
“She shoved it in my pocket as we were leaving,” I explain, shoving the napkin back in my pocket, even though I have no intention of calling bitchy Terri.
“I have so much to learn,” Parker says with a sad sigh.
“That’s what we’re here for,” I say. “Soon you’ll be a female version of me. Just not as good-looking.”
She punches my side, and I grin.
But as I walk the two girls home, I can’t stop the strangest, most nagging thought.
I don’t want Parker to become a female version of me.
Chapter 7
Parker
A year and a half ago, my mom called me up on a random Wednesday and asked if I wanted to grab coffee.
It was a weird request. Not because I don’t like coffee, and not because I don’t love my mom. But not only do my parents live in the suburbs, but my mom works in the suburbs, too. She’s a high school science teacher.
So there was absolutely no reason she should be downtown on a random Wednesday, but somehow my brain didn’t register alarm bells.
It should have.