Not the Only One (Book 1 in the Four of Us Trilogy)

Forty-Four

Luke

"AP tests are OVER!" Rachel yelled as we burst out the doors on Friday afternoon, giving me a high-five.

Brooke and Miles looked at each other and shrugged. "It was a pretty normal week for me," Brooke teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

"Let's do something fun tonight," Brooke suggested. "You guys deserve a break from all that test taking."

"Like what?" Rachel asked, leaning against her Impala.

Brooke looked at the sky, pretending to be thinking.

"I've got it!" she said with an over-exaggerated snap of her fingers.

"Oh God," the three of us moaned.

"Club La Vela," she said triumphantly.

"Hell no!" I responded. Rachel and Miles met her with a similar reaction.

"Oh, come on!" she pleaded. "We haven't been before, and we freaking live here! It's only like, the biggest nightclub in the U.S.!"

Before I could respond, Miles spoke up. "Come on, Brooke, literally pick anywhere else. I was just telling Rachel not long ago that I wouldn't be caught dead there."

Brooke stuck her lip out and looked at Rachel. I knew it was over; Rachel couldn't stand it when Brooke was disappointed.

Rachel sighed and looked up at Miles. "Come on babe...it might be fun," she said doubtfully.

Brooke's eyes lit up and looked at me.

Miles and I shared a glance and rolled our eyes simultaneously.

"Fine," we said together.

Brooke grinned and hugged Rachel to her side, who looked about as thrilled as we were. "Make sure you dress slutty," she told Rachel, who pursed her lips in annoyance.

"Spoiled brat," I muttered, earning myself a slap on the ass from Brooke.

"Pick us up at 8:30, lover. At Rachel's house," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, saluting her sarcastically.

"I'll come get you at 8, Luke." He turned to the girls. "We'll be at your house by 8:30, Rach."

Rachel nodded and pushed Brooke toward her car. "See you then," she said, kissing Miles on the lips softly. Brooke blew me a kiss from the passenger side of the Impala.

As I got in my car, I only felt slightly annoyed at Brooke—because seeing her dressed up for the club was going to be pretty fucking sweet.

Brooke

I rolled down the window on the passenger side, sticking my head out like a dog, feeling the gulf breeze against my face.

Rachel looked over at me. "Brooke, get inside, please," she asked in that sweet mom voice of hers.

I ducked inside. "Party pooper," I pouted.

"Hey, now. I convinced them to take you to Club La Vela... I don't want to hear any shit from you, Ms. Kane," she said, turning the radio up, and we sang at the top of our lungs all the way to Seahorse Lane.

At 7:30, we had both taken showers and blown out our hair; I curled Rachel's into ringlets down her back and she straightened mine perfectly, making it reach almost past my butt.

"What am I going to wear?" Rachel moaned, pulling outfit after outfit from her closet.

I pushed her gently out of the way. "Move it, sister. I'll find you something."