Destiny on Ice (Boys of Winter #1)(11)

She grabs my hand and lowers it to my side. “No yolo crap in this sea of people. If you’re attracted to the guy, fine. But there are better ways to get his attention. Why don’t you get him alone for a minute? Talk to him. Find out if he has a girlfriend. If he does, she could be here. You don’t want to embarrass yourself, do you?”

Lainey is clearly not onboard the YOLO train. I need to get her a ticket. But for now, I refocus on the crowd.

“Okay,” I say, “I’ll be good.” And then, “Aw, shit, Lainey. My guy disappeared, just like Thor. Damn it.”

Lainey places her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, if it’s meant to be you’ll find him again.”

“I don’t know about that.” I shake my head. Finding him seems like a daunting task when I can barely walk a straight line.

“Come on.” She takes my hand. “I need more water.”

“Ooh!” I lift my cup. “And another drink for me?”

Lainey narrows her eyes as she gives me an assessing once-over. “I don’t know about that. I think you need a break from the booze. Pacing, remember? Let’s grab you a bottle of water for now.”

She’s no fun. “Okay,” I say, complete with a pout.

As we head downstairs to where there’s a big tub of ice filled with bottled water, I think about Book Boyfriend.

“I can’t quit thinking about him, Lainey,” I admit as I carefully navigate one stair at a time. “Did you see his eyes? They had to have been the prettiest shade of brown I’ve ever seen.”

“You could make out the color from that far away?” Lainey sounds doubtful as she helps me down the last step. “And while intoxicated?”

I smack her arm, and then end up holding onto it for support. “Shut up. Seriously, did you not notice the rich deep color?”

“Um, no, can’t say that I did.”

“Well, I did.”

I’m insistent, though truly I’m not sure now if I’m imagining things.

Still, horny and sexually-deprived girl that I am, I go on. “God, that body. And that face. Those eyes too. I bet I could out-romance your romance writers with a spot-on description.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Lainey snorts. “And just how would you describe his eyes?”

I scramble to come up with a fitting literary description. Only problem is I’m not a writer. The best I can do is this…

“His eyes are like the color at the center of a sunflower. The fuzzy part, you know? Where it’s all dark brown and inviting—”

“Fuzzy? Inviting?”

“Shut up, I’m not done. And, yes, fuzzy and inviting. Like you could cozy up in—”

My sister stops me. “Jesus, Aubrey, please no more. Whatever you do, do not take up writing. That may be the weirdest comparison I’ve ever heard of to describe a hot guy’s eyes.” She shakes her head. “Really, Aubrey, sunflowers?”

Nudging her, and suddenly in touch with my inner comedian, I say, “You have to admit it was a flowery description. Get it, Lainey? Flowers, sunflowers.”

Lainey rolls her eyes. “You’re killing me, Aubrey.”

Just then her phone buzzes, thus putting an end to any more talk of Flowery Eyes. Or was that Sunflower Eyes?

She grabs my arm. “Hey, hold up. Margeaux is texting me something about another party.”

Margeaux is one of Lainey’s roommates and also her best friend, so I throw out, “You should invite her to the party.”

Lainey, still reading the text, murmurs, “Hmm, I don’t think so. There’s another party that’s closer to campus. That’s what the text is about. Aubrey, it sounds really fun.” She looks up from the phone, eyes pleading. “What do you think? Tell me you’d be okay with us taking off and heading over to that one?”

The only thing missing is a “please, please, please,” like Lainey used to do when we were kids. The writing’s on the wall, like in neon graffiti. A party close to where Lainey lives means she can park her car at her house and walk over. And then she can drink, like I’ve been doing. I don’t begrudge her wanting to have fun too. I’m sure it’s boring for her to watch everyone get drunk while she’s stone-cold sober.

There’s just one little fly in the ointment.

I’d prefer to stay at this party, seeing as there’s a guy here, one who looks like a book boyfriend, and one I may actually have a chance of meeting and talking to before the night is over.

“Go ahead and go,” I say to Lainey, with all this in mind. “I need to head back to my hotel soon, anyway.”

Lainey frowns. “Wait, how do you plan to get back if I leave you here? I’m your ride, silly girl.”

More like drunken girl. But hey, I’m a drunken girl with a plan.

“I’ll just call for an Uber,” I state, like this is such a given it shouldn’t even need to be articulated. I can’t let her in on my real motive, or she may try to talk me out of it.

“I don’t know.” My sister scans the crowd. “I don’t think I should leave you here by yourself. You could get into some real trouble, seeing how drunk you are.”

My baby sister, the voice of reason. And me, living on the edge. The world has truly gone crazy.