The Rules of Dating My Best Friend's Sister(18)

“Come in.”

I creaked open the door to find Lala in exactly the position she’d described: lying on the bathroom floor. She had a towel wrapped around her like a blanket, and last night’s eye makeup stained her cheeks.

I sat down next to her, peeled the wrapper off the straw, and popped it into the top of her smoothie.

“Head up, sweetheart. This will help. I promise. It’s loaded with vitamin C, wheatgrass, ginger, and echinacea. But you won’t taste any of that because the peanut butter and banana hide it all.”

She lifted her head with a groan and used both hands to push herself upright.

I smiled. “You’re a bit of a lightweight, huh?”

She narrowed her eyes and sucked from the straw. “I was overserved.”

“The last two drinks were just cranberry and lime. You only drank two with alcohol in them.”

“Apparently that was enough. And please tell me I didn’t do anything embarrassing. Last night is kind of fuzzy.”

“Nah, your voice isn’t that bad.”

She started to choke on the smoothie. “Wha—what?”

“You don’t remember getting up on stage?”

Her eyes widened. She looked pretty horrified, and I felt a pang of guilt for screwing with her while she was in this condition, yet I didn’t let her off the hook.

“Oh my God, no. What did I sing?”

“‘Call Me’, by Blondie. You held your cell phone up to your ear while singing and acting it out. It was really funny.”

“Holden, how could you let me do that? I’m a terrible singer!”

I nodded. “That’s what the brunette said, the one you punched in the ladies’ room.”

“Oh my God. Please tell me you’re joking!”

I grinned. “I’m joking.”

“Are you really?”

I chuckled. “Of course. I wouldn’t let you get up on stage. I’ve heard you sing. The point of a gig is to bring people into the club, not chase them out.”

She smacked my arm. “You’re a jerk.”

“But a hot one you want to see naked—you told me that yourself last night.”

Lala turned beet red. “Really?”

“Nah.” I laughed and pointed to her face. “But Jesus, you’re as red as an apple. It goes really nice with the black streaks down your cheeks.”

Lala reached up and touched her face. “I must look like a disaster.”

Her curly hair was wild, she had makeup smeared all over her face, and she’d slept in her clothes, yet she was still gorgeous to me. “Maybe. But you’re one beautiful disaster, Laney Ellison.” I climbed to my feet and extended a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of this bathroom.”

Twenty minutes later, she slurped the last of the smoothie from her cup with her straw.

“Feeling any better?” I asked.

She nodded. “Actually, I am.”

“Sounds like you’re ready for phase two then.”

“What’s phase two?”

I plucked the empty smoothie cup from her hand and tapped it to the top of her head. “Coffee. For both of us.”

While I made us two cups of joe in the kitchen, Lala went into the bedroom. When she came back, her face was washed, hair tied into a big, messy bun on the top of her head, and she had on new clothes.

“Look at you,” I said, passing her a steaming mug. “Good as new.”

She tucked her feet under her on the couch and sipped her coffee. “Am I keeping you from doing something? You look like you’re all showered and ready to go somewhere.”

“I have an appointment with Billie in a half hour. I get pretty sweaty playing the drums, so I figured she’d appreciate it if I washed after last night’s gig.”

“Colby’s wife Billie?”

I nodded. “One and the same. I’m getting a tattoo finished. The outline is done. Today she’s going to fill in the color.”

“What’s it of?”

“An owl.”

“Can I see it?”

“Absolutely.” I stood and grabbed my zipper. “It’s on my ass.”

Lala’s eyes widened.

I chuckled and sat back down, lifting the hem of my shirt. “I’m kidding. For a smart lady, you’re pretty gullible. It’s on my ribs, right here.”

Lala checked out the owl outline, but then her eyes took a little detour. They dipped down to my abs and lingered for a few seconds before returning to the outline. Three seconds later, the same thing happened, only this time her tongue peeked out and ran along her lower lip.

Fuck me. She’s checking me out.

I knew I should do the right thing and lower my shirt, but I couldn’t get enough of the way she was looking at me. “You want to see the others?”

She nodded and swallowed.

And because I was a giant dick, I took off my shirt completely.

“This was my first one,” I said, pointing to two drumsticks. “I think the meaning is self-explanatory.” Next I pointed to the one over my heart, a bunch of numbers in a straight line. “The night before I moved out, my mom got really upset. She cried and told me I’d better not forget where she lives and to come visit a lot. The next day I got the coordinates of my parents’ house tattooed here so she would know I could never forget how to get home.”