“Hi, Prince Charming.” I throw my phone to my side and smile at Lane. All in all, he’s turned out to be a great guy for my homefry.

He plops down on Sophie’s bed and tosses me a bag of candy. And he’s also discovered my vice…candy, anything sweet and sour. He also knows Sophie is never ready to bounce out the door unless it’s a late night booty call.

“Damn, Sophie, you look so fucking hot.” He sends her a wink, and she giggles. Their actions are actually genuine and super cute, but I’ll never let up on my front of gagging or rolling my eyes.

“Sit up.” Sophie stands at the bottom of my bed armed with a brush and some other hair items.

I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Sit up, I’m going to do your hair.” She throws the hair products on the bed. “You have the prettiest hair here and only keep it pulled up in a messy bun.”

“You do have gorgeous hair,” Lane adds around a mouthful of taffy, and then quickly remedies his comment to make mine second best to Sophie’s. I just giggle and sit up and let her have her way with me. I can smell styling products, heat from the curling iron, and Sophie’s perfume.

“What are you reading now?” Lane asks.

“Facebook. I haven’t started a new book.”

“You mean a new porno?”

I toss a wrapper in his direction.

“You know, Blue, YouTube has all sorts of good free porn,” Lane says through his laughter. Well, his laughter cuts off when he gets a sharp look from Sophie. “Baby, it’s research. I learn new moves.”

She shrugs and then blows him a kiss, and I promptly make a gagging noise.

“I read romance stories. They are not porn. It’s more like fairytales.”

“Okay, done. Look in the mirror.”

I stand from the bed and have to give it to Sophie. She has my hair spot-on perfect. Loose curls lay all over with my long bangs pinned off to the side and some slight volume on the top. My curls are even soft enough to run my fingers through.

A tiny grin covers my face and I shrug. “It’s okay.”

“Shut up. Pick a dress.” She points to the mounds and mounds of clothes on the ground.

“I’m wearing this.” I point to my shorty shorts and lacy tank top.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not. I’m done hanging out with a perma-athlete who never dresses up. Pick a dress, bitch.”

Lane always gets uncomfortable when we throw naughty words at each other.

“Okay, I’ll wait out there with Noah.” He points toward the lounge.

“We’ve brought a date along for you. Now wear something nice.”

“You what?” I yelp.

There’s nothing quiet or nice about what just came out of my mouth.

“A date.”

“No.”

“He’s not Ethan. Trust me. He’s one of Lane’s teammates. He is very polite, quiet, and a good catch.”

“You’re a bitch and totally just broke the fucking friend code. I’m wearing this, end of fucking story.”

I toss on my plainest pair of flip-flops and follow her out the door. The two men stand up, and I can’t deny the man-candy they dragged along for me is fucking hot. His tan biceps bulge from his team t-shirt, and his sandy brown hair is long and shaggy, hanging in his eyes, but there’s just enough of the blue shining through to make my heart pitter a bit.

Sophie makes introductions, and he’s kind enough to extend a hand, so I react and shake it. Sophie makes an awing noise, and then I remember how many forks I want to stab in her eyeballs right now.

“I’ll be right back. I forgot my purse.”

Sophie gives me a sideways stare, fully knowing I’m a pocket girl. I’m going to show that twat-waffle just how much I appreciate being surprise-attacked via a gorgeous muscle man. Racing back into the room, I throw my hair up into a ponytail, erasing all of Sophie’s styling, and then notice my Aztec print balloon style pants crumpled in a corner and decide to throw those bad boys on as well. Now looking back into the mirror, my normal high pony stares back at me with my short tank top and crazy ass pants. A hint of my skin shines through above the hem of my hammer-time pants, and I feel the desire to hike the bad boys up Urkel style, but giggle and decide against it.

Sophie hates these pants, and they just happen to be one of my favorite pairs. I’ve always been known to have a different sense when it comes to style. Yep, I’m usually a month or two ahead of the current trends, so I’m used to others harassing me about my hideous choices.

“Blue, let’s go,” Sophie hollers from the lobby in a spine-chilling cheer voice that I’m pretty sure floors four through seven heard as well.

I don’t waste another moment and bustle out of the room. I stare right at her and silently give her the “paybacks suck, you bitch” stare.

“All right, let’s go.”

We all make our way to the elevator, and it’s not until we are out in the sunshine of the parking lot that Noah speaks up.

“Your purse. You went back for you purse and you don’t have it.”

His concern is quite swoony, and, well, downright panty melting. I’ll give it to Sophie; he is nothing like Ethan at all.

I wave him off with a sly little grin. “Oh, it’s fine.”

As we all climb in Lane’s friggin’ monster truck, Sophie just has to pipe up.

“Quite the magician, purse to hobo outfit change.”

I didn’t miss the snark lacing Sophie’s voice. I just shrug back at her. Lane picks up on the uncomfortable mood and takes over the conversation. I’m thankful he doesn’t require me to be an active participant as he goes on about football practice and how hot the defense is this year.

Noah, like the perfect gentleman, takes a seat behind Lane on the driver’s side, as I’m on the other side, behind the empty passenger seat. Sophie is nearly dry humping Lane as he drives. I glance over at Noah and am relieved that he’s immersed in Lane’s conversation. I take him in from head to toe and realize he’s a freakin’ god with a perfect face and the most beautiful body. Only his strong biceps are visible, but I can imagine what’s under the rest of his clothes. Maybe, just maybe, he might be my perfect escape from my lust for Tuck, or at least curb my desires for the mystery man.

“So, Noah, you play football?” My fingernails dig into the skin of my palms, regretting such a lame conversation starter.

“Yeah, junior year, quarterback.” He shifts politely in his seat to make eye contact.

And if I were any normal girl, with his baby blue eyes, sandy curls, and deep voice, my panties should’ve spontaneously combusted. Hell, adding quarterback to the mix, I should’ve been on fire with hot lust and using some of Sophie’s quick-to-fuck moves. But nope, I just smile, admire his looks, and appreciate all the hard work he’s no doubt put in to be the quarterback for the University in which football is everything.

“Wow, quarterback. That’s huge. Congrats.” My butt slides a bit over on the navy blue leather seat, closing our distance.

“Yeah, Momma swears I came out holding a football.” He flashes his pearly whites at me.

I just picked up on his thick Southern accent. How in the hell I missed that before is beyond me. I think it was because I was trying to convince my panties to light on fire for this Adonis. Sophie sends me a quick little wink over her shoulder, not interrupting our conversation.

“That’s funny. My dad swears my mom went to a hypnotist and ate pom-poms while she was carrying me.” My hand lands on his thick thigh as we enjoy a moment of laughter, and I expect to feel a zing or at least a tingle. I’m no prude and know the excitement that courses through your body when new love or even lust is in the air, but nothing, zero, zilch.

Sophie takes a moment to interrupt our conversation and fills Noah in on my basketball scholarship and those talents, and how she swears I can run like a gazelle.

“Well, with legs like those, I’d pegged you for a b-ball kind of girl.”