“Lan—”

“Don’t language me!”

I smiled and fluffed my hair one last time before turning. “Fine, I’m ready . . . and your theory has to be flawed since Eli had been talking to me about the girls he’d been banging, and I hooked up with Johnny to try to get back at Eli. It didn’t work, just like tonight won’t work.”

“We’ll see.”

With a deep breath, I opened my door and made it two steps before Kristen’s husband, Jason, was walking toward us.

“My two favorite girls; you both look beautiful.” Pulling Kristen close to his side, he grabbed me in a quick hug and glanced behind him. “I’m gonna tell him, Paisley, swear to Christ I’m going to.”

“Tell who, what?”

“Eli,” he sneered. “He told me about what happened last weekend when you showed up for Sunday morning.”

Ah. Yeah. That . . . Thanks for the reminder. I no longer felt confident in my slutty shirt-dress. I felt like a stupid girl who had no idea what she was trying to do as I was reminded of the countless times Eli had crushed me. “Yeah.” I laughed uneasily. “It was kind of awkward.”

“He needs to know. He would never hurt you on purpose, and he has no idea that he’s doing it now. I can’t sit back and keep watching you get your heart broken over him.”

“Jason, no! You promised,” I begged. “You swore you wouldn’t tell him how I felt.”

He ground his jaw and looked behind him again to make sure no one was coming down the hall. “You can’t ask us to keep watching you go through this. This has to stop, and maybe if he knows how you feel, you’ll find out he feels the same.”

A spark of hope ignited deep in my chest, but I was quick to put it out. “You can’t know that, and, besides, you’re both trying to stop it now anyway. By you trying to set me up with this Sean guy, and Kristen making me look like a streetwalker . . . I know what you’re really doing. You’re trying to get a reaction out of Eli.”

Jason didn’t respond, but his neck burned red with embarrassment. Kristen had already known I’d figured them out anyway, so she didn’t look apologetic.

“You’ll see that tonight won’t do anything. There won’t be a reaction, and you just have to be okay with that.”

“Pay—”

“Jason,” I hissed, and stepped closer. “It’s not his fault that I fell in love with him.”

Grabbing Kristen’s hand, I walked down the rest of my hall and into the living room, where dozens of our friends were already hanging out.

My eyes darted across the many faces, looking for Eli’s, but I didn’t see him or hear his voice before Jason was behind me and turning me to the left.

“Paisley, this is Sean.”

I looked up and smiled at the guy in front of me. He was taller than me—not that that was uncommon—but much shorter than Eli, and had eyes I could stare at all night. But that was it. There was no pull other than the physical attraction. And only being physically attracted to someone after having the soul-aching crave I had for Eli was a letdown.

“Sean, this is Paisley—the girl I was telling you about.”

He held out a hand, and a creepy smile pulled at his lips as his eyes trailed over me. “It’s great to meet you, I’ve heard a lot—”

“Excuse us for a minute,” Eli interrupted calmly, but judging from the clipped end of his sentence—and the fact that he had just put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me away from Sean—I knew he wasn’t happy.

“Eli!” Jason snarled.

“What is your problem?” I asked as he towed me through the people and down my hallway.

He didn’t respond until we were in my bedroom with the door shut and locked behind us. “What the fuck are you wearing, Pay?”

I couldn’t even say anything about his language. I was too excited that he’d noticed what I was wearing. My lips threatened to pull into a smile, but I somehow kept my annoyed expression. “Clothes, thanks for noticing.”

Eli pointed at the little piece of fabric that liked to call itself a dress. “That does not count as clothes. Put something else on.”

Wait. What? No . . . this is supposed to be the part where you get all possessive and tell me you’ve been in love with me forever and push me against the wall and make use of this little scrap of fabric. Okay, fine, so I’d been hoping Kristen and Jason’s plan would work. Sue me. “Why?”

“Because you’re in next-to-nothing and sending a message that that douche was getting loud and clear. Put some pants on at least, Christ, Paisley.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I cocked my hip and sent him a challenging glare. “Good! You know what? I’m glad he understood what this outfit was meant for.” At least somebody got it.

Eli pointed at me. “I can see your underwear, how could he not understand what it was meant for?”

I looked down and straightened my body as I pulled on the fabric. Like I’d said. TMZ should’ve been there.

“Sorry if you were excited about this guy, but it’s not about to happen, not after what I just saw.”

My moment of mortification stopped abruptly, and I slowly looked up at him. “I don’t like any of the women you pick up, but do you see me trying to stop you from taking them home? You can’t just stop me from dating these guys whenever you don’t like them, Eli! Just because you don’t like the fact that someone appreciated the way I look doesn’t give you the right to throw yourself into my life to stop me from trying to find someone.”

“No, Pay . . . never,” he crooned, and closed the distance between us. “But I won’t watch you find someone by dressing like . . . like this. And I sure as hell won’t stand back while you date someone like him. The second Jason went to find why you and Kristen were taking too long, that guy’s hand was resting on some chick’s ass, and his eyes were on another. He’s a prick, I’m not letting him near you.”

Wow. Really? Thanks, Jason. Biting down on my lip, I raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Eli laughed loudly. “Yeah, well, I never claimed to be a saint.”

“Clearly.”

Turning around, he opened up the drawer that held all my jeans, and pulled out my favorite pair. I knew what he was doing, and there was no point in arguing. He wouldn’t let me out of the room until he had his way—and I really hated being in this thing anyway.

“Take off those shoes,” he ordered, and held out his arm for me to steady myself on as I did. Once they were off, he bent down and held my jeans open.

“I can dress myself.”

“Paisley,” he warned.

Rolling my eyes, I placed my hands on the backs of his shoulders and stepped into my jeans. By the time he pulled them up over my hips, I was trying to hide a smile the size of Texas.

Swatting at his hands, I buttoned and zipped the jeans and messed with the shirt-dress so it was resting on my butt instead of over. Glancing in my mirror, I had to hand it to Eli; it looked so much better like this. Not that I would tell him.

“Now this is my Paisley.”

My breathing halted, and I looked at him in the reflection with a wide expression.