“I gotta go study, Gram.” I managed to get out without sounding too choked up.

“All right. You be a good girl.” Gram said that at the end of every call. Be a good girl. If she only knew that I was on a path of sexual exploration.

After hanging up, I finished changing clothes. Dressed in comfy sweatpants and a Dartford Uni sweatshirt, I fell back on my bed with my copy of Madame Bovary. I was almost finished with it, which was good considering I had a test in World Lit tomorrow.

Highlighter and pen in hand, I lost myself, following the exploits of Madame Bovary and vowing never to become a slave to my credit cards. It was bad enough that I had school loans. As I continued to read, I felt an uncomfortable similarity between Madame Bovary and myself. Just like me, she was so committed to an idea of what she thought her life should be.

Shaking my head, I told myself my infatuation with Hunter wasn’t shallow and unhealthy. He was good. Kind and reliable and safe. He was all of those things. I was no Madame Bovary.

“Hey, there.”

I looked up at Georgia leaning against the doorjamb. She was in her running clothes. Earbuds dangled from around her neck. “Hi. How was your run?”

She fell onto the bed beside me. “Brutal. Paying for my weeklong junk food binge. I really stress-ate while studying for my finance exam.”

Em breezed into the room then. “You should major in studio arts like me.”

“You still have to take your core classes,” I reminded her.

“And I’m almost through with those.” She shrugged one slim shoulder. “I’m into the stuff I enjoy now. Which is definitely not finance.” She made a face and shook her head at Georgia.

“Maybe if I was a genius artist, I wouldn’t need to major in business.”

Em flashed her a smile. “You’re sweet. I hope my stuff ends up in a gallery someday, and I don’t end up teaching middle school art.”

“As if that would happen.” Georgia laughed. “Daddy will save you.”

Some of Emerson’s smile faded, and I couldn’t help remembering what she had shared about her father. I guess Georgia wasn’t aware of that or forgot about it.

Deciding to change the subject, I asked, “What are your plans for the night?”

Emerson brightened. “I’m all yours.”

“Harris has a project to work on.”

“Yay!” Emerson clapped. “Let’s go out. Just the three of us.”

“There’s a new Thai place over on Roosevelt. It’s supposed to be really good. We could try that,” Georgia suggested.

I nodded. “That sounds good . . .”

“And that new Bourne movie—”

“We can watch a movie anytime,” Emerson pouted.

“We can go to a bar anytime,” Georgia returned.

I inhaled. “I want to go back to Mulvaney’s.”

My friends fell silent for a moment. I knew from Georgia’s uncertain expression that Emerson had filled her in on everything—specifically my humiliation at discovering Reece wasn’t the bartender I had hoped to hook up with. No, that was his kid brother. The embarrassment of that still stung.

“You want to go back?” Georgia asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I need to talk to Reece.”

Emerson stared at me, and I braced myself, expecting her to remind me again that I did not owe him an explanation. Thankfully the words never came, because I couldn’t leave this alone. I didn’t want him to think I was like every girl to walk through those doors, drawn by rumors of Logan and ready for a taste. He’d thought I was different before. That’s what bothered me the most. He no longer thought there was anything special about me.

“Then we’ll go,” Emerson finally said, her expression unusually solemn. She moved toward my closet. “Okay. What are you going to wear then?”

“Something hot,” Georgia supplied.

“Of course,” Emerson replied, sliding hangers one after the other. “We’re going to make him regret he ever let our Pepper go.”

“He didn’t let me go exactly. I ran away.”

“That’s because he was being a jerk. So you wanted to use him to increase your sexual prowess? Big deal. What guy isn’t eager for a no-strings-attached hookup?”

Reece, apparently.

“I think the key here is that his ego was wounded,” Georgia explained. “Pepper thought he was his brother.”

“Well. Then you need to make him forget why he was so offended.” Emerson paused, and turned around, studying me. “Wait. I’m assuming that’s what you want to do. Are you still hot for him? Is he the one you want to show you the ropes?”

I should be accustomed to Emerson’s directness by now, but she could always catch me off guard. I stared from her to Georgia, who looked so calm and self-assured. Like she already knew the answer.

“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling my cheeks warm up. If I was going to get lessons on foreplay, I wanted it to be from him. I hadn’t been able to forget that one kiss. I certainly wasn’t about to renew my search and go after some new guy. A stranger. It was either Reece or no one. I would just have to wait and hope I attracted him in my own fumbling way.

“All right then.” Emerson looked at me with understanding. Only what she understood, I wasn’t too sure.

“I still want Hunter,” I said, making sure there was no confusion.

“Of course. Of course.” She nodded, and then turned back to the closet. Propping her hand on a slim hip, she studied the contents a moment longer before she pulled out a pair of dark jeans. “Georgia? What top do you think?” She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for advisement.

“Blue cowl-neck sweater. Right side of the closet.”

“Thanks.” Nodding, Emerson went off to search in their room.

“You know, Pepper,” Georgia said, crossing her Lycra-clad legs, “the world won’t end if you end up with someone besides Hunter.”

Everything in me tightened, resisting the idea. “But I want Hunter. I always have.” I’d always wanted to be a Montgomery. “And for once it doesn’t seem like such an impossible thing.”

“I never thought it was impossible. Especially not now that he’s single. He’d be lucky to have you. Any guy would.” She uncrossed her legs. Pressing her knees together, she scooted to the edge of my bed and looked at me earnestly. “But sometimes the thing you want isn’t what you really need.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie,” I teased, but her words created a hollowness inside me. I couldn’t explain why I wanted Hunter. I just did. I just knew he was it, that thing I had been reaching for since . . . since forever.

Like she could read my thoughts, she asked, “Why does it have to be Hunter?”

The question pried too deep. It brought to mind my mother and a stuffed bear, two things I could never get back. “Oh, I don’t know.” I cocked my head and sharpened my gaze on her. “Why does it have to be Harris?”

She blinked, startled by my quick retort. I sighed and glanced to the window, regretting my defensiveness.

“I’ve been with Harris since high school,” she answered evenly.

I nodded. I wasn’t trying to imply her relationship with Harris was somehow lacking. What did I know about relationships? From everything I had seen, Harris was a great guy.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’ve been here going on two years now without a date. And you never dated in high school. Maybe you should go out with other guys rather than pinning all your hopes on Hunter.”

The words were hard to hear . . . especially considering how accepting Emerson and Georgia had always been of my determination to have Hunter. Suddenly I felt cornered. I drew my knees up to my chest and scooted back on the bed until my spine aligned with the brick wall.

“They haven’t exactly been lining up to ask me out, Georgia.”

“Because you haven’t wanted them to. Guys need a little encouragement, and you haven’t exactly been putting out an ‘I’m available’ vibe.”

I crossed my arms, unable to deny that but still not liking to hear it. “Well, I am now, aren’t I?”

She angled her head. “With this bartender? He’s supposed to count? I thought he was just a hookup.”

I buried my head in my hands and groaned. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“I found it!” Emerson sailed back into the room. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Now hurry up and shower!”

Georgia smiled. I grabbed my shower caddy and robe, content to leave the quasi-serious talk behind.

Emerson did a little dance. “We’re going to break some hearts tonight!”

Just as long as it wasn’t my heart.

The bar was its usual meat market for a weekend night—meaning standing room only. Clusters of guys and girls milled around, talking and drinking. But their eyes were always moving. Scanning. On the hunt. As soon as we entered, guys made eye contact and tried to engage us in conversation.

Emerson stopped just inside the front room, where the aroma of fried pickles enticed me even after the dinner we’d just had at the new Thai place. “What’s your plan?”

I glanced from her to the hot press of humanity all around us. Even as cold as it was outside, the faces were flushed from the warm room. And perhaps the free-flowing alcohol had something to do with it, too.

I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see to the bar. “I think I’m just going to walk right up to him.”

Emerson arched an eyebrow. “That’s direct. And not exactly you.”

“No point delaying.” Not after the last time I was in here. I wasn’t going to fake memory loss. I ran away from him. He was probably finished with me now.

“Good plan.” Georgia nodded. “No games.”

We made our way toward the bar. I glimpsed Reece through the shifting cracks between bodies as we got in line. I stood on tiptoe, trying to gain a better view, catching only the curve of his head, the dark shadow of his closely cropped hair.

Gaze still on him, I spoke to my friends. “I can handle it from here.”

“You sure?” Em didn’t sound convinced.

“Yeah.” For some reason, even though they knew everything that had transpired up until now, humbling myself before Reece was something I didn’t want to do in front of them.

Emerson scanned the crowded room and pointed. “There. We can get that table.”

A quick glance revealed that the table was occupied by two guys who were already ogling Emerson in her miniskirt. Georgia followed her through the throng, leaving me in line. I waited patiently, creeping forward until I stood at the counter.

Reece’s back was to me. I watched the dark fabric of his T-shirt stretch as he bent and then straightened. When he turned around, his gaze landed on me. He stilled for a moment, his light blue eyes sharpening. “What are you doing here?”

I moistened my lips and looked self-consciously at the people squished on each side of me, not happy about publicizing our conversation but not seeing any other choice.

Ignoring everyone else, I spoke over the din. “I wanted to see you.”

He lifted a dark eyebrow—the one with the piercing—as he filled the pitcher. “Yeah? Funny, considering the last time we talked you ran off like someone shouted ‘Fire.’ ”

He handed off the pitcher and collected money from a customer, a girl who looked me up and down like I was something dirty stuck to the sole of her shoe.

I glared at her until she moved on and then looked back at Reece. “That wasn’t exactly a conversation.”

“No?”

“It was more like an inquisition.”

His lips curved in a twisted semblance of a smile. “Call it whatever you like. I’ve got you pegged now, Nice Girl.”