other women when he’s with me. And if I ever do wind up having to date again, I’d stake my claim immediately and make sure to have the exclusivity talk before the dude is even allowed to hold my hand.
Like my mom always says, know your worth. Make them work for it.
But to each their own. Hunter clearly has a lot of luck with the ladies. The girl he’s dancing with laughs at whatever he just said, and as he shakes his head in amusement, he catches sight of me in the doorway. He dips his chin in greeting.
I blow him a kiss. He grins and refocuses on his date, while I join my friends.
“Demi!” Pippa squeals, jumping out of the booth to throw her arms around me.
“Heya, chica.” Pippa is my best friend at Briar. We met at freshman orientation, discovered we both grew up in Florida, and were instantly inseparable.
“Hey,” our friend Corinne greets me. “I love that skirt.”
“Thanks, it’s like a million years old.” I smooth my hands over the front of my distressed denim skirt. It’s autumn, and I’m still wearing short skirts and tank tops. I don’t know whether to hate or love global warming.
I lean into the booth to smack a kiss on TJ’s cheek. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I tell him. “I’m so glad you came.”
He blushes slightly and takes a huge gulp of his beer. Beside him is Darius Johnson, a good friend of mine and Nico’s.
“Hi, D,” I say.
“Hi, D,” he mimics, and we both grin. When we first met, there was a bit of competition about who’d get to keep the nickname, but in the end we decided to share it.
“Where’s the rest of the crew?” I ask. Wherever Darius is, there’s usually at least three other basketball players not far behind. But they’re nowhere to be found tonight.
“Briar won the hockey game,” Darius explains. “They didn’t want to deal with all the hockey fans. Those guys are nuts.”
As if to prove that point, a trio of dudes choose that moment to drunkenly lumber past our booth screaming, “Bri-ar! Bri-ar!” One of them is waving his black-and-silver jersey in the air, which means he’s stumbling through the bar shirtless. Classy.
Nico returns with a pink daiquiri for me, and a bottle of beer for himself. It’s a Cuban brand that you can rarely find in the States and yet somehow Malone’s actually serves it. It makes me smile, because I’m pretty sure my mom is the one who introduced Nico to that beer. I remember she let him taste hers at my fifteenth birthday party. He’s been drinking it exclusively ever since.
“What have you been up to this week?” I ask Corinne as I slide in across from her. “You never answered my text about unpacking. Did you still want help?”
“I know, I’m sorry. I was dealing with furniture shit. Moving is the worst,” she complains.
Corinne just moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Hastings, only a few blocks from Malone’s, in fact. It’s rare to find housing in town, but Corinne knew the previous tenant, a fellow Econ major at Briar who abruptly decided to drop out. Corinne had an application in with the landlord of the small building before anyone else even knew the apartment was available.
“Moving isn’t that bad,” Nico teases her. “I mean, especially when you have three strapping young men helping you out.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
I snort. Nico and two of his co-workers from the moving company helped Corinne last Sunday, hauling all her boxes and furniture from the house she used to share with five other girls.
“Did the strapping young men take off their shirts and flex their muscles for you?” I ask a blushing Corinne.
She bursts out laughing. “I wish. All they did was drink my beer and get my new carpet all dirty from their boot prints.”
“And to answer your question,” she says to me, running a hand through her mop of dark curls, “yes. I totally need help organizing everything. Maybe one night this week?”
“Sure. Just let me know when.” I met Corinne through Pippa, and although we’ve never been as close, I like hanging out with her. She’s a bit guarded, but when she relaxes she’s actually pretty hilarious.
Nico takes a swig of beer before setting down the bottle and slinging his arm around me. He’s so handsy tonight. He leans in and plants soft kisses on my neck until