“So this is an ‘I Hate Houston’ party? Are you sure you don’t need adult supervision?” “Yup, you’re the guest of honor, and no, unless you’re feeling frisky.” I winked, but she was too busy staring at the ground with this lost look in her eyes. “I don’t hate Houston.” “We figured when we caught you kissing him.” And how could I forget his hand up her shirt? Until this morning, I was the only one who’d copped a feel.
