before Kay pointed her out. She was pretty hard to miss in the strapless green dress that Kay had so accurately predicted she’d look hot in. As we got closer, though, my opinion changed. Hot wasn’t really the word. It was more like stunning. An uncomfortable warmth spread through my veins, and I was suddenly second-guessing my plan.
“Nah, you’re totally off, man,” said a lanky kid with long, straight hair tucked behind his protruding ears. He waved his hands wildly as he spoke. “Brian Jones created the Stones. They wouldn’t have been anything if it hadn’t been for him. Jaggar and Richards are so overrated. They were total fools to replace him with Ronnie Wood.”
Another kid, this one in an ugly orange hoodie, hissed in disgust. “Seriously? Please tell me you’re kidding. Jones could barely play the harmonica, let alone the guitar. By ‘66, he wasn’t even recording with them anymore. He was banned from touring because of his
The lanky one sneered and opened his mouth, but Spencer beat him to it. “Actually, you’re both wrong,” she said. Everyone turned to look at her, and the girl who’d partially obscured her until now shifted so that Spencer was in full view of the group.
“How’s that?” Lanky asked.
“Well, first—” Spencer directed this at the kid in the orange hoodie. “—Jones made several pretty big contributions to the group, even after Richards and Jaggar took over as songwriters.” He crossed his arms and pursed his lips doubtfully, but gestured with a bob of his head that she should continue. “The sitar line in ‘Paint It, Black’ is probably the most well-known, but he also played both dulcimer and harpsichord on ‘Lady Jane.’ Oh, and oboe and sax on ‘Dandelion.’ And he was only banned from touring in the U.S., which didn’t happen until after ‘69.”
“See, man, I told you!” Lanky gave his opponent’s shoulder a backhanded smack and grinned at his new ally.
She gave him an apologetic smile in return. “But he’s right that it was a good decision to get rid of him. Jones’ drug issues were dragging them down, and really, he didn’t want to be part of the group any more than they wanted him. Also, Mick Taylor replaced Jones. Ronnie Wood replaced Taylor.” Both men glowered at her, and she shrugged. “I’m kind of a fan.”
The two music fans slunk away to continue their argument in peace, and the small crowd dispersed.
Kay, still attached to my arm, pushed her way through. “Hey, Spence. Look who I found.”
Spencer tried—and failed—to hide her surprise. “Oh, hey. Shane, right?”
I nodded, still getting used to the extra consonant at the end of my name.
“What are you doing here?”
“Jeez, way to be rude,” Kay chastised, bumping her shoulder into Spencer’s. “He found your phone and wanted to return it.”
I took my cue and produced the cell phone once again. I held it out to her, and she scooped it out of my hand, her fingers brushing against my palm as she did. “I think it fell out of your bag when we bumped into each other,” I lied. “I looked for you in the library, but that place is huge and I had an appointment with my advisor, so I figured I’d just bring it here.”
Spencer tilted her head, considering what I’d told her. “How’d you know I live here?”
I’d anticipated the question and had my answer ready. “The picture on the lock screen.” I pointed to the phone. “You’re wearing an OIA sweatshirt.”
“Gorgeous and clever. You’re like the total package, Shane,” Kay said. She wriggled her eyebrows at Spencer.
“Thanks for returning it,” Spencer said, purposefully ignoring Kay.
“No problem.”
“All right!” Kay clapped her hands together, either oblivious to or undeterred by Spencer’s resistance to her matchmaking efforts. “I guess I should go find Gary before he gets too drunk to remember what I look like. I’ll see you guys later.” She turned on her heels and disappeared before anyone had the chance to protest.
Left alone with Spencer, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts and looked around. “So, you guys know Lunasa is supposed to be celebrated at the beginning of August, not the end, right?”
Spencer eyed me with curiosity. “You know about Lunasa?”
“Sure,” I said, but then feeling like I needed some sort of explanation, I added, “My family’s Irish.”
“You might be the only person here who’s ever heard of it, and that’s including most of the OIAs. These parties always have a theme based on Irish festivals, but mostly it’s just an excuse to get drunk and dance. We don’t make too much of an effort to be culturally accurate. Sorry.”
“No, I get it,” I said. “Lunasa celebrates the transition from summer to fall. Makes sense for the beginning of a new school year.”
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go with that.”
I grinned. “So have you been a member of the sorority since you started here?”
“Since my first semester, yeah,” she said, though she was looking at something over my shoulder when she spoke.
“You look really great tonight,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I’d complimented her to win the battle for her attention or because I just couldn’t keep myself from saying it.
Either way, the result was the same. Spencer’s full attention returned to me. “Thanks,” she said, her cheeks pink.
“That’s a great dress.”
She glanced down at herself. “It’s okay. I always wait until the last minute to pick something. Fashion isn’t really my thing.”
“You’d never know it to look at you.” I swept an admiring glance from her face to her feet.
Spencer fidgeted with her neckline. “So listen, thanks for bringing my phone back, but I really should mingle a little.”
She moved to walk around me, but I caught her arm before she could go far. Spencer tensed so quickly I worried one of her tendons might snap. I pulled my hand back. “Think you might want to dance later?”
She didn’t look at me, but the corner of her mouth twitched when she gave a faint nod.
I grinned. “Good. Looking forward to it.”
On my own, I scanned the crowd for a second time, looking for another group to make myself a part of. There was only one person here I wanted to spend any time with, but my hope was that if Spencer saw me talking to someone else, it might make her more interested in spending time with me.
A thin, pale girl with shoulder-length hair dyed an unnatural shade of red perched on the arm of a sofa about twenty feet from me. She stared at me openly, and I assumed her boldness had more than a little to do with whatever was in the plastic cup in her hand. She’d serve my purposes just fine.
“Hey,” I said as I approached her. “I’m Shane.”
“Anna,” she said with a flirty smile.
I leaned my hip into the back of the sofa. “Are you an OIA sister?”
“Not so much.” She snorted. “They throw decent parties and all, but I’m not really into the whole ‘sisterhood’ thing.”
“Yeah, I’m not much of a joiner either,” I said, telling her what I figured she’d want to hear.
Apparently, I’d guessed right. Anna slid an inch or so closer. “So are you a loner, Shane?” she asked, laying a hand on my arm.
“Not always,” I said with a wink.
She eyed me wantonly, pressing a hand to my chest as she laughed. “Good to know.”
If I took this much further, I’d spend the night fending her off instead of getting closer to Spencer. I lifted my head to glance around the room and met Spencer’s eyes. She was at the bottom of the staircase, standing with a guy who leaned against the banister, probably to keep himself on his feet as much as to look cool.
I leaned in closer to the faux-redhead on the sofa, but my eyes never left the genuine redhead who stood across the room. Her eyes flashed, and she turned back to the guy next to her. He gulped down what remained in his cup and set it aside on a marble tabletop that was already overflowing with abandoned paper plates and beer cans. He held his now empty hand out to her. She slipped her hand into his and, with one last glance at me, let him lead her through a doorway on the other side of the staircase.
