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“No doubt,” Noah says. “But there’s always pro bono work.” He shrugs. “I’m with Tab, you are too talented to give up on the click and flash. You tell more of a story with one photo than I could ever do with an entire newspaper full of words.”

“Geez, that’s laying it on a bit thick, wouldn’t you say? Plus, like you’d ever take a position against Tab.” I grab my bag. “Now, come on, you sickening lovebirds. I need to get my drink on.”

“Well, get ready to fight off the guys tonight, Noah,” Tabby chimes in. “We’re gonna have our hands full with this little vixen. I can tell already, she’s in a mood.”

Noah laughs and we head out. The air is crisp and full of the scent of lilacs. It’s still a bit cool at night, but the days are warming, hinting at the heat and humidity ahead. We pile into Noah’s jeep. He drives, always the first to volunteer as a DD.

We start the night at a few of the house parties on campus, making appearances, before settling in at Sasha’s. It doesn’t take long before I’m restless. Drinking tequila, my brain goes into overdrive thinking about my new plan to find a hot summer romance. Unfortunately, yesterday’s afternoon with Foster continues to invade my thoughts.

Until Jenna descends.

Surrounded by her dedicated followers, Jenna stops by the bar in front of us. Tabby immediately stiffens and Noah puts his arm around her.

“If it isn’t the happy couple,” she sings, quickly dismissing Tab and me, setting her eyes on Noah.

“Jenna,” Noah says in his famous authoritative tone.

Jenna and Noah dated during our first year of college. Actually Foster and I used to hang out with them quite often. We all grew up together—though if it wasn’t for Noah, Jenna never would’ve slummed with me. She was always too good for everything and everyone, but she’d been after Noah for years. Once she got him, she was intent on keeping him and if that meant hanging out with Foster and me, she was all for it.

I often wonder where we’d be if the accident had never happened that year. Would we all still be friends? Would we still be together? And where would Tabby fit in?

No use in thinking about it. The accident did happen and there’s nothing we can do to take it back. Right before that night, Foster and I decided to take our friendship up a notch. He finally asked me out and we’d been dating a few weeks. The four of us, and Jenna’s younger brother Ben, all went partying down fraternity row on campus.

Noah and Foster were acting like assholes that night for some reason. Neither one of them wanted to be at the party, so Jenna and I were left to show Ben a good time. Foster and Noah left us after an hour to find some weed and get high. They promised to be back soon, but we didn’t see them the rest of the night and we were left without a driver. Ben offered to drive Jenna’s car—I declined. I even offered to pay for the cab, but Jenna and Ben wouldn’t have it.

Ben jumped behind the wheel and Jenna took the passenger seat…they never made it home.

Ben died in a crash later that night. Part of us all died with him. I think Foster took the news just as bad as Jenna did. Somehow, she recovered, but Foster hasn’t. He’s never been the same since—blaming himself because he was supposed to be the DD that night, but something was wrong with him even before he left. He was on edge, jumpy, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

A week later we broke up.

I’ve been trying to fix it and fix him ever since.

I glare at Jenna now for being that painful reminder. She continues posturing in front of Noah, and Tabby continues to roll her eyes. After an incredibly awkward few minutes, Noah finally sends Jenna on her way. And then plants a kiss on Tab in the most PDA-way.

I make gagging noises.

They don’t seem to notice.

I push all thoughts of Foster out of my head. No more, I say to myself in a little pep talk. I’m done with it. This is my summer. A new fresh start. I just hope Tabby’s right…that I’ll have someone to wear my new dress for very soon.

When Tab comes up for air, The Killers are blaring from the speakers. Tabby grins and pulls me onto the dance floor. Reluctantly, I follow. It takes all my concentration to keep up with that girl. She can move. A few guys approach us, but are quickly warned off by Noah’s death glare from the other side of the floor.

The tequila begins taking effect, and after three more songs, I’m glistening with sweat and floating on my buzz. So this is what fun feels like. After freshman year, I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel it again.

One song bleeds into the next and we don’t let up. But soon I feel cramped and crowded. Dancers multiply as the “Harlem Shake” rings through the bar. A swarm of people flood to the dance floor.

Damn commercial shit!

I move to leave until Tab’s hand clamps on mine. “Don’t you dare, J. You promised you’d dance with me.”

“Yes, but I didn’t agree to become part of a YouTube video. We may as well start dancing to the ‘Macarena.’”

“That’s later.” Tabby laughs. “Don’t harsh my buzz. Now come on, it’ll be fun. Just follow me.”

Tabby starts the craziest conga line I’ve ever seen. The place goes nuts. Clothes fly off, people dance on the bar, and men and women get dangerously close to us, grinding in our line. A guy dances by us wearing an Obama mask. A girl does the running man in a pair of giant sunglasses. Another small guy rides around on the back of a larger gal, slapping her butt like she’s a horse. It’s insane. I think they have the song on a loop because it seems to go one forever.

By the time the song finally ends, Tab and I are laughing so hard we can hardly breathe. Noah is at the bar, ready to reward our performance with ice-cold pints of beer. I have never tasted anything so good in my life.

“Well, that was,” Noah starts to say. “I don’t know what that was.”

“Super fun,” Tabby answers.

“It was super something.” He shakes his head. “Intense, maybe?”

“Aw, shit,” I say, noticing a rip in my tights. “See, this is why I prefer to hang at the bar and do shots instead of dance. Much safer for my wardrobe.”

Suddenly, I’m in the air and just as quickly, I’m plunked down on bar stool. In front of me is a guy who looks like a real-life Viking. I’m serious, he looks Eric from
True Blood
.

He levels a stare at me.

“What the hell?” I ask him.

“Heard about your tights situation,” he says. “I think I can help.”

“Really?” I roll my eyes playfully, not wanting to let this one get away just yet. Maybe I could be his
Sookie
.

This night just got a little more interesting.

“Hmm.” He scrunches up his face in the cutest way. “Looks like we have two choices.”

“We?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m here on official duty. “

I raise my brows at him.

“Fashion police.”

“Are you serious with that line?” I laugh.

“Well, I was before that response.” He chuckles and goosies rise up the back of my neck. “So, as I was saying, before I was rudely insulted. You can take off the tights, or we can go with the rock-and-roll thing you have going on and rip the other side.”

“I’ll tell you this much, I’m not taking off my tights.”

“Why not?”

“Because my legs are the shade of…that.” I point to a guy’s shirt that looks fluorescent white under the dark lights of the dance floor.

“I think that sounds lovely, but if you insist.” He snags my leg, pulls my tights away from my skin, punches a hole in them and rips.

I’m overwhelmed by my senses. Shock—at what he just did. Cool—from the air hitting my leg. And hot—from his scorching fingers on my bare skin. I laugh hysterically, I can’t help myself. This night couldn’t get stranger.

Famous last words.

“There,” he says, still holding my leg in one of his enormous hands. “Better. Now what’s your name?”

“It’s—”

But I never get the chance to answer because my Viking is soon pushed up against the wall, with blood trailing down his lip.

Noah is up in a second trying to pull off the assailant.

Tabby screams, but the guy doesn’t let go. The Viking is held firm in two fists.

Foster’s.

Oh shit! The boy is back.

Foster

I spot Jules immediately. The good news is she’s not wearing the sundress I wanted to peel her out of during her impromptu fashion show. The bad news is—it’s worse. Much worse.

Jules has on a tiny black skirt with boots, torn tights, and a silvery almost see-through top that barely conceals some kind of lingerie.

She is a tiny version of Dita Von Teese, screaming sex.

Some guy has his hands all over her legs…tearing her tights.

What the fuck?

The blood rushes to my head and all these images flash in my head. Jules in the hospital, the burns, the tears, the pain. The next few minutes are a blur as my hands take care of business. I’m not known for my restraint, especially where Jules is concerned. I haven’t had that luxury.

“Dude, let go,” Noah says in his usual calm but authoritative tone. He’s had to intervene on my behalf more than once.

I don’t loosen my grip. What the hell is Noah thinking anyway, letting some random guy handle her like that? Ripping her clothes off in public, like it doesn’t matter.

I shake away the image, unable to process what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been here to intervene.

“Foster,” Jules shrieks. “What the fuck, you lunatic. Let him go!”

Is she serious? Let this motherfucker go? I don’t think so.

She reaches out to him.

Him!

“What the hell do you think you were doing, ripping her clothes like that?”

“It’s not what you think, pal,” he says, spitting blood on the floor.

The throbbing in my head is so strong I can barely make out what he’s saying. In fact, I really don’t give a shit what he’s saying. I bring back a fist to release in his face once again.

This time he falls, with Jules’ hand locked in his.

He brings her down with him.

Then it’s her scream ringing in my ears.

Jules

“Oh my God,” Tabby screams. “Her hand. Her hand.”

I’m buried under an overturned table and wet from the drinks that have been flying. I can’t quite process the scene because a sharp, splitting pain is shooting up my arm. My hand and wrist feel like they’re no longer connected. With my good hand, I grasp the fabric of my shirt near my elbow and drag my arm back to my chest. But when I do, my hand flops the other way.

The. Wrong. Way.

My head goes light.

And I fade away…

Foster

I push the idiot off me just in time to see Jules pass out. The motherfucker held on to her as he fell. All his weight crashed down on her tiny hand. I quickly grab some towels off the bar and wrap it around her clearly broken wrist, before fashioning a splint—just as I’ve seen my Mom do with Tristan all those times he took a spill on his skateboard.

I pick her up and Noah is right there in my face. Of course he is.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the meathead as he tries to get up. I quickly turn and kick him back to a heap on the ground where he belongs.

“Put her down, Foster,” Noah yells at me, signaling to Jules in my arms. “Christ, you’ve done enough.”

I give him a warning growl and his eyes grow wide and he takes a step back. Nothing is going to stop me until I get Jules to the hospital.

“Take me to your car so we can get her to the hospital,” I yell back. “I can’t take her on the bike in this condition.”

Noah nods and leads us out of the bar.

“Call me when you get there,” Charlie the bartender yells to us. He’s an old friend and probably the only reason I’m not in some bouncer’s headlock right now.

“We will,” Tabby calls back. She’s glued to my side with her hand stroking Jules’ head. I’ve never been so thankful for somebody in my life. Jules deserves twenty Tabs in her life, but this one will definitely do.

Noah leads us to his jeep in the street, opening the door to the backseat. I slide in, never letting Jules move from my chest.

“We’ll go to HCMC,” Noah says.

“No,” I argue. “Not that shithole. That’s where they take all gangbangers when they’re shot.”

“Yes,” Noah has to have a comment for everything. “It’s because they have the best trauma ward in the city. They are also fully staffed this time of night. If we go somewhere else, we might get some hack and her hand looks pretty bad.”

“Fuck,” I say under my breath.

“It’s not your fault, Foster.” Tabby leans over the backseat. “That guy did come on awfully strong.”

“I didn’t have to hit him,” I tell her.

“No, but I know why you did.” Tabby hiccups now, clearly drunk. “And he’s the one who took the pussy way out, grabbing Jules’ hand like that.”