Cameron Cole has a plan.
After yet another relationship ends because of certain shortcomings-literally-Cameron decides it's time to swear off dating and focus her energy into her junior year at the University of Charlotte. There's an internship up...
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"How could she not tell me?" I demand, slamming my shot glass on the sticky table, the tequila burning its way down my throat. "I'm her best friend. Best. Friend."
Sticky's smells like spilled beer and bad decisions—a heady mix of cheap liquor, fried food, and desperation clinging to every surface.
It's perfect.
We're all huddled around a tiny bar table that we almost had to wrestle a group of freshman girls for. There isn't a spare surface or chair in sight, some groups just standing and drinking.
I'm on my fourth tequila shot—or is it my fifth?—and my vision is starting to blur in a way that makes me feel invincible.
Which is good, because apparently, I don't know my best friend at all, and that really sucks for sober Cam.
But for Drunk Cam?
It still sucks. But at least I'm drunk and don't care about letting the entire bar know about it.
It's honestly a miracle I made it here in one piece. Somewhere between leaving the Alumni meet-and-greet, the house party on Sycamore Row and landing in Sticky's, I'd ditched my wholesome Colts baby tee, white mini skirt, and sneakers for something... well, not wholesome.
Now, I'm in a very sheer, sparkly top that clings to my curves, with a black bra that barely contains my tits underneath. The tiny black mini skirt I swapped into hugs my hips like a second skin, and my tall black boots were definitely not made for walking but damn they made my legs look long.
My hair is down, the silky brown strands framing my face and spilling over my shoulders like a shield. Somewhere in the back of my tequila-soaked brain, I remember thinking, If I'm gonna cry, I might as well look hot while it happens.
Mission accomplished.
"Ding-dong, the bitch is dead. It's Jude's time now," Jude says as he wraps his arms around my head and begins kissing my temple. "Forget about her. I'm all you need now, baby. Lemme give you some lovin'."
I cry out, "I miss her so much!"
"More shots!" Liam announces, sticking a finger in the air.
I point my empty shot glass at him. "Yes!"
"Okay, but seriously," Yasmine cuts in, her voice tinged with concern as she nudges a margarita toward me. "Are you really that upset about it? I mean, Scarlett's kind of... Scarlett."
"What does that mean?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
"She's guarded as hell. Hot—but guarded," Kiki says, wrapping a lazy arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. "We all know this. She's like an enigma with a hot blonde ponytail."
"A very sexy, scary enigma," Tasha adds.
"But I'm her best friend," I repeat, the words slurring slightly as I grab the margarita and take a sip. "How could she not tell me she had a thing with Clay fucking Jackson? I mean, we're talking about Clay Jackson. He's like... he's like..."
