“No, silly, I spell it the regular way,” she slurred, slapping me on the arm, like we were friends already.

She took another shot and let out a big belch. I laughed, fascinated by her carefree spirit. I bet Bridget had a ton of happy stories.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked, snickering into her glass.

“Have we ever had a class together?” I asked, curious about her.

“Please. I barely pass the classes I have now, and you’re in like all the AP courses, so no,” she said, giggling, which didn’t make much sense, but I guess when you’re drunk, everything’s funny.

“How many have you had?” I said, giggling along with her.

She never answered; she leaned her head back on Cuba’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Bridget, without the fancy spelling, was out.

“She’s had way too many,” Cuba told me, easing his arm around her so she wouldn’t slip off.

“Are you with her?” I asked, the alcohol making my tongue loose.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter. If you want me, I’m yours.”

What? But, but what about Bridget I wanted to yell at him! She’s his girl tonight and a potential new friend to me. And wasn’t she wearing his jersey? Yes, yes, and yes. I sighed with disappointment. “No thanks,” I said and stood up, weaving from the quick movement.

“Wait a minute, Nora,” he said, easing Bridget from his lap and propping her up against the other side of the couch. He grasped my hand and pulled me back down until I was pressed tight against his side. And it wasn’t unpleasant. His body was hard and muscled from playing football and he smelled delicious, the spicy scent of his cologne teasing my nose. He took my leg and pulled it up onto his, until I was facing and half-way straddling him. If anyone looked, they would have seen my underwear. I didn’t stop him.

“I want you tonight,” he said, rubbing my exposed thigh, his nose running up my neck. “Bridget and I aren’t exclusive, and she doesn’t mind sharing . . . or watching if you want.”

“I see.” No, I didn’t. Not really.

I suddenly felt hot and sticky, and my head had started to hurt a little, maybe because my woozy brain was having a hard time processing his words. Why had I killed all those shots? “Cuba, I’m afraid you’ll need to tell it to me straight, because it’s possible I’m hallucinating here. Are you suggesting you actually be with us both . . . like a threesome?” I said, whispering out the last part.

He chuckled at my lowered voice. “Tonight it could just be me and you. Maybe if she sobers up, we’ll invite Bridget?”

I spent several seconds in a daze, looking him over, absorbing his unruly black hair, the caramel complexion, and those beautiful eyes. And somewhere in the middle of gazing into his eyes, I imagined I saw a similar sadness in his, much like my own reflected back at me. Who was this guy? Maybe he had dark secrets, too? The kind that could destroy him if anyone found out?

I separated my eyes from his, thinking about his naughty suggestion. A truly bad girl would jump at the chance to be with a guy and a girl at the same time. It was just an extra body, right? I squinted at him, my brain analyzing how it would work, trying to picture whose arm would go here and whose leg would go there. Who got to have sex first? What would the extra person do while the other two were busy? Maybe do a critique?

It was a lot to think about.

And Cuba. No doubt about it, he was incredibly handsome. Even though he had a giant-ass ego, I sincerely liked him. But was it enough to be with someone who wanted another person to join in?

Why was I waffling? Isn’t this what I wanted? To destroy perfect Nora?

“Let’s go find an empty room,” he said in a husky voice, his thumb rubbing little circles over and over on my bare shoulder. “You won’t regret it, babe,” he whispered, the yellow of his gaze mesmerizing me, reminding me of a calico cat I’d had once.

I’d loved that cat.

You know, everyone has a little voice inside them that whispers advice, and my internal whisperer-person, whom I pictured as a cooler me in black leather pants and riding a Harley, was letting me have it. Sometimes I get distracted and don’t heed that voice. But now, I listened to that tough bitch on the motorcycle. I listened to my gut.

I sighed regretfully. “I will never share my man.”

He gave me a smoldering look, unfazed. “Is that so?”

“I want all the attention,” I said softly, not able to resist brushing his hair off his face. He caught my hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed my palm. He took my index finger, put it in his mouth, and sucked. I shivered. He wasn’t Leo, and he didn’t make my heart race, but he was extremely easy to look at.

But, it didn’t feel right sitting on him and gazing into his eyes when I’d been kissing Leo just a couple of hours ago.

I wanted to want Cuba. And it pissed me off that I didn’t.

“Nora!” Sebastian said from across the room, interrupting my thoughts and stomping over to us. He glared at me sprawled out on Cuba and then at all the empty shooter glasses scattered on the floor. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. Like he was the boss of me.

“Here I am.”

“So, I see,” he said, scowling at Cuba. He stuck out his hand to help me up. “Come on, let’s head outside to the pool and get some air.”

I ignored his hand and picked up another shot from the tray and tossed it down. I got up and looked back at Cuba. “Someday, I’m going to be first.”