Page 73 of Drowning Erin

“Harper says if there’s a zombie apocalypse, you and I will be the only ones to survive,” I tell him.

“Because I’m such a badass that no zombie could take me?”

I laugh. “No. Because we never go out in public.”

He’s quiet for a moment, long enough that I’m sure I’m about to get the speech: Erin, we are in the bubble; we aren’t dating.

“My friend Beck has a bar in Elliott Falls,” he finally says. “A bunch of friends from school are getting together up there this weekend. You want to go?”

“You want me to go with you?” I tease. “In public? You mean actually go out, or would I be wearing an invisibility cloak or something?”

“It’s so hot when you reference Harry Potter. Yes, with me, in public. Visible. Unless you’re worried about Rob finding out. But he doesn’t know any of the people coming.”

I tell him I’m not worried, but my smile dims. I hate being reminded that Brendan and I have an expiration date.

* * *

“So he’s finally taking you out,” Harper says as I get ready on Friday.

“It’s not really a date. It’s just a party.”

“Which you are attending with a guy. A guy who invited you and with whom you are fornicating. It is, therefore, a date. And since I’ve conclusively established that you and Brendan are dating…”

“We’re not dating.”

“Just because he doesn’t realize it’s a relationship doesn’t mean it isn’t one,” she counters. “So I’m wondering what you plan to do when Rob comes home?”

The question rests like a barbell on my shoulders, pushing so hard I actually want to rub them in response. “You mean what’s going to happen with me and Rob?”

“You and Rob. You and Brendan. Brendan and Rob. Wow, it just occurred to me that that would make for one un-fucking-believable threesome.”

“We won’t be having a threesome, I can promise you. And in response to your question, I don’t know. I guess no one will be with anyone.” Rob can never find out about this, so it has to end with Brendan at some point. And I don’t see how I could get back together with Rob without telling him what I did, and I can’t, so…that’s probably off the table too.

“Enjoy it while it lasts then,” says Harper. She goes into her room and emerges moments later, handing me a pair of her skinny jeans and a silky blouse that hangs off one shoulder. “I’m not even bothering to look through your clothes for tonight.”

“Size 25 jeans?” I laugh. “Are you high? I can’t fit into these.”

“Of course you can. I’m not sure if you’ve followed the styles over the last, I don’t know, 40 years or so, but jeans are supposed to be tight. You’ll look hot.”

“Yeah, it’s going to be really hot when I go home with Brendan and require medical intervention to pull them off,” I reply, yanking them closed.

She grins. “You look good. Believe me, he’ll be happy to help.”

When Brendan shows up, he appears to agree. “Wow,” he says, looking me over, head to foot. He yanks me toward him, free hand sliding over my ass, mouth finding mine for a soft, slow kiss—one that lets me know where he'd like it to lead.

I forget, for a moment, that we are not at his place. When his mouth moves to my neck, I groan so loudly that Harper, two rooms away, laughs.

"Erin," he says, pulling away only slightly, "unless you're going to let me fuck you right here in the foyer, we'd better get in the car."

I grab my purse. "I guess you'll just have to wait," I tell him over my shoulder as I walk out the door.

"I have a feeling," he says, his mouth close to my ear, "that this may be a very short night out."

* * *

When Brendan told me his friend had a bar, I expected something small. A glorified shack with six bar stools and a jukebox. Instead I discover a sprawling lakeside beauty with multiple decks, already so crowded at 9 PM that we struggle to find a parking space. I don’t know why it matters, but I’m thrilled—I know it’s not really a date, necessarily, but suddenly it sort of feels like one.

“Wow. This is not what I was expecting.”