Overlooked(1)(21)

“Okay, so you pick where we’re going,” I say.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN





HARPER POLSEN



I step out of my bathroom with a final check in the mirror. If Zane and I are going to try to get each other dates for the big party his parents are throwing, I want to look my best. Not that I’m all that concerned with getting a date. I’ll be going back to the city in a few days, and it’s not like anything would come from any date I did end up scoring.

But I want to look nice anyway. A little voice in my head suggests that it might actually be for Zane’s benefit, but I ignore it. I don’t want to think that I might be dressing up, doing my make-up, to attract a guy who until recently I never even remotely thought of as hot.

He’s practically your brother, he can’t be hot.

I grab one of the more casual dresses that I packed and hold it up to my body, looking in the mirror to make sure it goes with the way I did my hair and make-up. It looks great, and I know I can’t wear it to the party the next night anyway. It’s got a plunging neckline, but not too daring. I think that I can probably pull it off without too much scandal.

I pull the dress on, slip my feet into a pair of flats that go with it. There is no way that I’m going to wear heels, not if I don’t have to, and grab my purse. Mom and Dad are busy in the kitchen, making dinner. I told them when Zane and I finished our big Tekken tournament hours later, with me narrowly in the lead with one win more than him, that I was going to dinner with Zane to find ourselves dates.

I grin to myself as I step out through the front door and see Zane himself walking to the house. We’d kept playing the game even though I’d won the wager, betting other things along the way, whose car we’d take, who would be the designated driver, whatever it was we could bet to keep things interesting, down to a few desperate wagers for the party the next day.

After a while, we were too hungry and too bored of the game to keep going, so I’d left to get ready to go out.

“I have no idea why you want to go to Bill’s Tavern so bad,” Zane tells me as he walks up to the driveway.

“Why wouldn’t I? That place is awesome,” I tell him.

“It’s so stupid!” Zane shakes his head. “I would think a cultured city girl like you would want to hit up a real bar.”

“I have hit up many kinds of bars, and I happen to like Bill’s Tavern a lot,” I say tartly, making sure I have the keys to my car.

“Once a nerd, always a nerd,” Zane says, shaking his head again.

I see him hesitate a bit as he goes to climb into the passenger’s side. “Do not make that face,” I tell him. “I am an excellent driver.”

Zane gives me a dubious look, but gets into the car.

I drive us to the Tavern and we chat about the party the next day, about what a huge deal it’s going to be. The entire neighborhood is going to be there, as well as Zane’s parents’ friends from work, some of their college friends and members of the family. His parents’ ten-year anniversary had been almost as big a deal. They’d had the one party, the big blowout, without the preamble a couple of days before. I could only just remember it since we’d only been kids at the time.

“Admit it,” I say, as we chow down on our dinners with sides of beer.

“Admit what?”

I gesture around Bill’s Tavern in response to Zane’s question. “Admit that I chose a good place,” I say.

“It’s not awful, but I don’t think we’re going to find dates here,” Zane says.

“That’s a good point,” I admit, looking around.

We’re possibly two of the youngest people in the bar-restaurant, along with two other couples, and clearly we’re not going to get any dates from the couples.

“Maybe if we hang out for a bit, a younger crowd will start showing up,” Zane suggests.

“We’ll stay for another beer, maybe a shot, if we really want to be daring. Then we can go to a bar of your choice,” I suggest.

Zane grins. “Another beer, no shot. If there aren’t any other single people our own age to talk to, we’ll move on and get that shot somewhere else,” he counters.

I consider that and nod. There are two or three bars within walking distance of Bill’s Tavern, which is really more of a dinner spot anyway. In the worst-case scenario, we can get a cab if we get too tipsy to drive home.

“Did we ever agree on who was going to be the designated driver?” Zane asks.

I shake my head. “You kept insisting that I cheated, and demanding rematches,” I say.

“And then we moved onto something else,” Zane adds.