Dana smiles warmly, lifting her hand in a short wave. “The more the merrier.”

Tonight will be fun. Over the years I’ve learned that it’s not so much about where you are as it is who you’re with.

“Let’s grab a booth before there’s none left,” Dana says, motioning for us to follow her.

After we’re seated, the waitress brings us some chips and salsa and takes our order for three margaritas. The first chip tastes like pure salt-covered heaven on my tongue, and before I know it, I’ve downed a handful before Dana and Reece even get a taste.

“What are you guys going to get?” Reece asks.

“Should we order a taco platter? We can share,” Dana suggests. I swear the more time I spend with Dana, the more I like her.

Reece and I both throw down our menus in agreement. The waitress returns to bring our drinks and takes our order. She’s not even a foot away from the table before our lips are plastered against the salted rims. The icy tequila is some of the best I’ve had. Chicago has a one up on Nebraska in the drink department.

“God that’s good,” Reece moans, pressing her thin lips to the rim. She sounds like a woman in the throes of wild sex.

“Well, hurry up and finish those, and then we can have another,” Dana says. She has half her drink gone while Reece and I still savor our first sip.

“You do realize that Reece and I have to work in the morning, don’t you?”

She waves her hand like it’s nothing. “Oh, come on, we’re young enough. We’ll bounce back quick.”

I roll my eyes and take another drink, realizing just how easy it goes down this time. Tomorrow morning is going to come with one hell of a headache.

Our food arrives, and we put it away like a table of post-game football players. It’s been almost eight hours since I ate a few bites of salad . . . anything would taste good to me right now.

“So, Reece, what’s your story?” Dana asks between bites. I’m curious myself since I just met her today.

“All twenty-five years of it, or would you prefer me to narrow it down to one chapter?”

Dana rests her elbows on the table like she’s going to soak up each and every word. “Let’s start with the juicy stuff. Boyfriend? Virgin?”

Reece’s narrows her eyes at her. “Why does everyone assume that I’m a virgin?”

“I’m not assuming anything. Spill.” Dana grabs a handful of chips and sits back like she’s waiting for the main feature at the movie theater.

“I’ve had boyfriends. Lots of them. Like more than I can count on one hand. One was even a football player in high school.” She talks so fast that it’s hard to discern. It’s like she doesn’t necessarily want us to retain it all.

“Do you have one now?” Dana asks, popping yet another chip in her mouth.

Reece snorts. “No, I’m keeping my options open since I just moved here. I don’t want to be tied down right now, you know?”

I pipe in, saving her from more of the Dana inquisition. “I’m the same. The last thing I want to be is tied down. Besides, I just got out of a relationship a few months ago, and it didn’t leave me feeling warm and fuzzy about men.”

The waitress brings yet another round of drinks. The steady stream of tequila is loosening me up . . . a welcome feeling after the past couple weeks.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Dana says to Reece. “Lila’s got a man.”

“Shut it, Dana. I’m not tied to anyone right now.”

She laughs. “Oh, he hasn’t broken the handcuffs out yet and hitched you to his bedpost? Poor girl . . . I totally took him as the type.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

She scoffs. “Hell no! I work them like monkey bars, jumping from one to the next.”

Reece and I share shocked expressions. Through high school and college, I knew plenty of jumpers but never one that would admit to it.

“Chill out. I don’t end up in bed with all of them.”

As if that makes it any better. Dana and I are different, but sometimes dissimilarity is needed for two parts to fit together. She’s the blank to my tab.

We spend the next hour talking about the duds we’ve dated while on our journey to find Mr. Right. And that just leads to us discussing how Mr. Right probably doesn’t even exist.

After three, or maybe four, margaritas Dana finally convinces Reece and I to join her on the dance floor. I’m uncoordinated, I always have been, but the alcohol gives me enough courage to fake it.

My body flows freely to the beat of the music. The three of us form a circle, laughing and having a good time. Strands of hair fall from my once perfect bun, sticking to my face. The best part of it all is I don’t care . . . alcohol is a wonderful thing.

One song ends and another begins. Unable to make out the words, I close my eyes and let the rhythm carry me. This is freedom at its finest.

“Pierce!” Reece yells. My eyes shoot open, immediately scanning the dance floor. I find her a few feet away, her ass shoved against a guy’s crotch.

My instinct is to laugh, and then I put myself in her shoes. I cringe when strange men touch me. There’s a layer of unpredictability—not knowing the guy’s intentions or where the hell his hands have been. I literally pry Reece from his arms, not stopping until we’re back in our booth.

“Thank you. I tried to get away, and he thought I was grinding against him. It was so gross.”

“You said you wanted to make friends,” I tease.

“Who wants to make friends?” I’d know that voice anywhere. Deep and sexy. My mind shifts to all the seductive words that have slipped from those lips over the last couple weeks. I never imagined that thoughts of the past would leave my panties wet.

“And what are you doing here?” Dana asks, coming up behind Blake. She slides in next to Reece, glaring up at him along the way. For her part, Reece can only stare, smitten with the stereotypical bad boy—ripped faded blue jeans, fitted navy henley, hair tousled in the most perfect way possible. His parents should have just named him The Panty Dampener.

He grins, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the dancing, or the memory of how his hands feel on me, but I’m finding it hard to catch my breath. “My plans for tonight got canceled.”

“Oh, shucks,” Dana chides, “Guess you’ll have to find something else to do.”

“I already have,” he responds, sliding in next to me. His arm brushes against mine. Sparks fly too easily. I should move away from him, to extinguish them, but I don’t. It’s been a long time—maybe even never—since I was turned on by the mere presence of a man.

He runs his finger over my blushed cheeks and damp hair. “You look so damn sexy right now,” he says as he leans in close. “But I prefer when I make you wet.”

“Can you keep your voice down?” A deeper shade of red paints my cheeks. I glance across the table, noticing Dana and Reece locked in a whispered conversation. Maybe they didn’t hear a thing, or maybe they heard it all and they’re having a nice little chat about my screwed up arrangement.

“Am I embarrassing you in front of your friends?” Blake asks, a little louder this time. His words are embarrassing me, as is the obvious way my body reacts to him. Whenever he’s within a couple feet, I become a withering, flimsy petal rolled between his stupid, magic fingers.

“Will you two stop already?” Dana groans from across the table.

“I’m confused. Is this the guy?” Reece pipes in, eyes gleaming with a newfound excitement.

“They’re fucking,” Dana remarks matter-of-factly. Oh God. I want to be anywhere but here. Blake is going to know I have a big mouth, and Reece is probably wondering how she picked the company slut as a new friend.

“What’s the difference?” Reece pipes in.

I grimace, draining the rest of my margarita in an attempt to hide my face. For his part, Blake is quiet. He’s either grinning at how uncomfortable this is all making me or pissed that the whole world suddenly knows our business.