"Have I told you you're the greatest boyfriend?" Lola pecked me on the cheek as I put up the last of the fake cobwebs in her living room the night of the party.

"Not today." I winked at her.

She laughed before surveying the room for one last inspection before people arrived. We moved the furniture so there was a large area for people to hang out and maybe dance. We had a table set up on the side that had a punch bowl filled with "green slime" (which was basically green-colored punch), and chips, dip, pretzels, candy, and a lot of room left for Zoey's food.

Zoey, as with everything, outdid herself. There were mini "mummy" pizzas (where black olives were used as eyes), deviled eggs that had peppers sticking up like horns so the eggs looked like devils, cupcakes decorated with candy corn. And, of course, her famous-to-me pulled pork sandwiches.

"This all looks amazing, Zoey!" Lola hugged her.

Our group had decided to dress up with a Grease theme. The girls were going as the Pink Ladies while the guys were T-Birds. Lola was dressed as Sandy, with a leather jacket and all black with red shoes. Her normally sleek, black hair had been curled and teased beyond recognition. If Lola was Sandy, I guess that made me Danny. The guys had it easy; we only had to get white T-shirts and write T-Birds on them. Some of us had leather jackets - I'd borrowed my dad's old motorcycle jacket from when he had a motorcycle; Mom had made him get rid of it once she got pregnant with me. The girls took pink T-shirts and wrote Pink Ladies in bubble letters and then wore poodle skirts with matching pink headbands and flip hairdos.

Mr. Brooks, Adam, and Lola's parents hung out in the kitchen while the party took over the living and dining rooms. Most of the guys who weren't in our group dressed up as football players or cowboys, which meant a plaid shirt and cowboy hat. It was the girls who'd gone above and beyond: beauty queen pageants, Catholic schoolgirls, or basically anything that required them to dress up and put on a lot of makeup.

Not like I was complaining.

"Hey, California!" Logan called out from his station in front of the TV. "You're up."

He threw me a gaming remote and I plunked down next to him.

We played video games for an hour or so. Every once in a while, he'd give me grief about my accent, my outfit (which was the exact same as his), my hair (which had been short for two months, but Logan had failed to notice), and pretty much anything I said. But I ate it up. This was how Logan treated his friends.

"Dude, next weekend. My house. You in?" Logan said after I finally beat him at a boxing game.

I had no idea what next weekend was or what we'd be doing at his house, but I agreed.

I had a girlfriend, an amazing best friend, and was finally becoming one of the guys.

Things were starting to look up.

_______________________________________________

Zoey: Don't think I'm not offended that you were so desperate for some bro time.

Chase: Dude, you know I didn't mean it that way.

Zoey: Dude. You make it seem like I forced you to have tea parties with my dolls and braid my hair.

Chase: You did start spending a lot of time in the kitchen.

Zoey: That's funny. I don't remember hearing you complain while you were eating all the food I was making.

Chase: That's because you're the best cook in the state of Wisconsin. If not the entire culinary world.

Zoey: Flattery will get you everywhere.

Chase: Don't I know it.

_______________________________________________

Zoey POV

Having your two best friends date wasn't as awkward as I'd thought it would be.

It was much, much worse.

The first month was a little uncomfortable. I had to watch what I said about one when I was with the other. Then one of them would pump me for information. Sometimes I had to be the go-between. I was even the third wheel on a lot of the first dates.

One time I went to get some popcorn before the start of a movie, only to discover them kissing (or, more accurately, sucking face) when I got back. I froze, not knowing what to do. For a split second, I debated turning around and ramming my head against the wall in hopes that I would get amnesia. Instead, I cleared my throat very loudly and they slowly peeled away. Thankfully, the lights dimmed down as I settled back in my seat, so I didn't have to make eye contact with either of them. I wasn't sure who should've been more embarrassed.

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