The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)(48)

I inch forward as a guy staggers past me and jabs his elbow into my back. “Yeah, he did. I don’t know where he is, though. I lost him the second I walked in here.”

“Yeah, that happens a lot.” He looks back at me. “How about I help you find him?”

I nod, my anxiety going down a drop or two. “That sounds great. Thank you.”

“No problem.” He nods for me to follow him as he pushes his way through the crowd. “We can get you a brownie from the kitchen too.” He throws me a toothy smile from over his shoulder. “I make killer fudge brownies. They’re actually pretty famous.”

“I bet they are,” I remark, remembering Kai’s warning to stay away from the baked goods. “But I actually don’t like brownies that much.” Huh. Never thought that sentence would ever come out of my mouth.

“That’s because you haven’t ever tasted mine.” He raises his voice as an upbeat song blasts through the speakers and everyone gets all riled up. “One bite will change your mind.”

As I get jostled all over the place by the crowd, I thank the heavens that I’m wearing boots; otherwise, I’d be knocked flat on my ass by now. Heels were never my thing, something I learned every time I tried to wear them out to a club. I’d either trip, fall down completely, or my feet would end up hurting so badly that I’d have to sucker Indigo into swapping shoes. The only ones I can tolerate are platforms, but after wearing them to school last week, I’ve decide they might be as demonic as stilettos.

I struggle to maintain my balance, and Bradon snags my arm and tugs me out of the room, only letting me go when we make it safely to the kitchen. There are a few people hanging around a keg, but other than that, the room’s pretty empty.

“Brownie time,” Bradon announces as he lifts a paper towel off a plate. Underneath it are the most gooey and delicious brownies I’ve ever seen, and my mouth starts to salivate. Bradon picks up the plate and moves it toward me. “Try one. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I literally have to stab my nails into my palms just to stop myself from snatching one and gobbling it up. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because . . . they have pot in them, right?”

He chuckles at me. “You’re adorable. I can see why Kai likes you.”

Before I can even wrap my head around what he said, an arm drops down on my shoulders.

“There you are,” Kai says casually, but I can feel the tension in his arm muscles. “I look away for like a second and you disappear on me. What happened?”

“I stepped in piss and got distracted,” I explain, glancing down at my boot. “Or at least I think it was piss.”

Bradon puts a finger to his lip, seeming way too fixated on me. “Seriously adorable.”

Kai gives me a questioning look. “How did you end up with Bradon?”

I lean in, keeping my voice low. “He found me in the crowd, licked my hand when I tried to introduce myself, then brought me in here, offered me a brownie, and called me adorable when I asked him if there was pot in it. I don’t know why. I haven’t done anything that could remotely constitute being called adorable.”

Kai presses his lips together as he angles his head so he can look me in the eye. “You asked him if his brownies had pot in it?” he asks, struggling not to laugh.

“Why is that so amusing?” I feel like the butt of a joke I don’t get. “You told me not to eat them, because they have pot in them, right? I just wanted to make sure.”

Kai glances at Bradon, who’s still staring at me like I’ve sprouted a unicorn horn out of my forehead.

“Can I borrow her for the night?” Bradon asks Kai, with his bloodshot eyes drinking in my every move.

“I’m not on loan,” I quip then shrug. “Sorry.”

Kai chokes on a laugh while Bradon blinks at me, confounded.

“Okay, how about we go get you something to drink,” Kai says to me then steers me across the kitchen and away from Bradon.

Once we reach the counter lined with all sorts of different shaped alcohol bottles, he lifts his arm from my shoulders. “So, what’s your drink?” He holds up his hands. “No, wait a minute. Let me guess. A wine cooler.”

“I’ve never had a wine cooler before,” I admit.

He reaches for a bottle filled with red liquid that has tiny little flakes at the bottom, picks it up, pulls a face, and then sets it down. “Then what did you drink while you were overseas?”

“Lots of stuff. Whenever we’d do shots, though, Indigo would always make us do vodka.” I shudder, remembering the scorching burn.

Kai muses over something then moves for the fridge. When he returns, he has a beer in his hand. “How about a beer? I don’t think it’ll make you pull that face you just made when you mentioned vodka.”

I gratefully take the beer and twist the cap off while Kai grabs a plastic cup and fixes himself a drink using soda and whiskey.

“Now what do we do?” I ask as he screws the cap back on the whiskey.

“Whatever you want.” He downs a large swallow from his cup.

I smile artfully at him. “Okay, well if that’s the case then I want to chase a unicorn, run on a rainbow, and swim in a lake made of gold.”