I blink at her. “Huh?”
“Sleep. Over.” She loops her arm through mine. “We’re going to Amanda’s apartment. It’s been literally weeks since you had a social outing.”
“Weeks is an exaggeration.”
She pouts. “You wouldn’t go out last weekend. Even though the hockey team was at an away game.”
She has a point.
“Fine.” I heave a big sigh. “I need to dry my hair the rest of the way.”
We separate, and I stew over what the hell a sleepover entails. Like… a slumber party? As if we’re still in high school. I poke my head into the hall. “Are we actually spending the night?”
Willow laughs. “Yes, you dork. We’re going to drink martinis and do our nails and talk shit about Paris and her cronies.”
Okay, you know what? I can get behind that.
I finish getting ready, stuffing pajamas and toiletries into my backpack, and meet Willow by the front door. Ever since the guy broke in—and before that, even, to when my room was trashed the first time—the apartment hasn’t felt the same.
My skin prickles the whole time I’m outside. So much so that I have to resist the urge to hike my bag up higher, and to lift my shoulders to my ears. Willow doesn’t have such a problem. She looks ready to hit the ski slopes with a white-and-pink argyle hat, white puffer jacket, and white leggings. Her pink boots are laced up her calves.
“Really?”
She grins. “You never know, okay?”
Fair enough… but there better not be guys at Amanda’s. Or anyone other than the few people Willow promised would be in attendance.
Shit. I get the sinking feeling that I’m walking into something bigger than just an innocent little sleepover.
We walk to Amanda’s apartment, which is only a block west. She opens the door as we come up the front walkway, grinning at us with a glass of white wine in her hand. She rents half of a house from an old lady who lives next door, so it’s one of the quieter streets.
She usually doesn’t host for that reason. Part of her lease is respecting the quiet hours, and I think she’s terrified of getting evicted. I don’t blame her—she has a good deal.
I glance over my shoulder and scan the street, but it’s quiet.
“Come on,” Amanda calls, stamping her socked feet. “It’s freezing out here.”
Willow and I hurry in behind her, and I stop dead.
This is not just alittlesleepover. There are fifteen girls here. I only recognize some of them from the dance team, but that’s not surprising. Amanda does a little bit of everything around campus. Student government, clubs, working in the dean’s office part-time. She knows everyone, and everyone knows her.
I nudge Willow, who just grins.
“We just ordered pizza. I’m so glad you could make it!” Amanda plants a kiss on my cheek and slips back into the living room.
It’s a good-sized room, but still there aren’t enough seats. Many of the girls are sprawled out on the floor. Not that they look put out about it.
“Drink?” Jess asks, coming over with two red cups and a pitcher of pink liquid.
Willow laughs. “What the hell is that?”
“Jungle juice.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “I guess the landlord is out of town for the week, so Amanda is taking full advantage. No fucking quiet hours tonight!”
The other girls whoop and cheer behind her.
I extend my hand for one of the cups, and Willow takes the other. Jess pours us a hefty amount, and I don’t think before I throw back a big swallow. The flavor is fruity, with a citrus tang. It completely blocks the bite of liquor.
Warmth spreads through me.