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over at me, a smug ‘I told you so’ look plastered on her face. After handing her the glass of wine, Mr. I Just Got Roped Into Buying a Drink makes a motion to escort Jade onto the dance floor, which, of course, she declines. Pointing over to me in my lonely existence at our booth, I’m sure I make for the perfect excuse.
    When she slides back into her seat, I can’t suppress the laughter.
    “You’re too much, you know that?”
    “Why? Because I can con a guy into buying me an $8.00 glass of wine. I’d say that’s a skill.”
    “Sure,” I quip sarcastically. “Put that right on your résumé. It’ll help you land a job in no time.”
    Opting for a small sip instead of a large gulp like before, Jade eyes me from across the table. Paying no attention to my previous words, she huffs a sigh at me. “Actually, I’d call it a gift. And if you got out there more often, shake what your momma gave you, then you’d get a freebie every now and then, too, you know.”
    That comment alone almost makes me choke on my beer. “Shake what my momma gave me? Are you serious?” As my lips pull into a thin line of cynicism, I shoot her a wry look. “First of all—”
    “Oh, yay. It’s a list. I love when you get all listy on me.” Her sarcasm cuts me off mid-sentence. Bouncing playfully in her seat, she claps her hands, mocking me with a delicate balance of love and playfulness.
    Holding up one finger for extra emphasis of her love for my lists, I continue with my original statement. “Yes, first of all, you can get guys to buy you drinks all you want. Look at you, you’re . . . you’re . . .” I pause, looking for the right word before landing on, “stunning. You’re absolutely stunning, Jade. Guys drool over you and your mile-long legs.”
    “Sweetie, that’s nice of you to say, but they drool over you, too. You just never pay attention.”
    “And that, my friend, brings me to my second point.” After taking another sip of my beer, I hold up two fingers this time. Wiggling them back and forth in her face causes us both to laugh at the silliness. “And second of all, I don’t need a hot guy to buy me a drink. I already have a boyfriend.” The last words carry a playfully smug ‘this ought to be fun’ tone, one which causes Jade to laugh.
    Though she might think the boys drool over me, I’m not so sure she’s right. Besides, I wasn’t kidding when I said she was stunning. Standing at around five foot nine inches tall, Jade is fit enough to be a model. With dark ebony skin, she looks like Naomi Campbell. Her mocha eyes are set in a perfect face—perfect cheekbones, perfect nose, perfect lips—hell, even her forehead is flawless.
    I mean, do people even rate the perfectionism of foreheads? Because if they do, Jade’s would top their list.
    Essentially, she’s everything I’m not. I’m the short to her tall, the curves to her sleek lines. Where everything about her is rich and exotic, I’m pale and bland. Nothing says Irish like dark red hair and blue eyes. Oh, and the freckles, you can’t forget the freckles.
    “Speaking of boyfriends,”—Jade waves over the top of my head—“here comes Blake now.” Even though she tries to hide it, the disdain she feels toward him drips from every word. I love her for at least trying to disguise it.
    “Hey, babe.” Blake slinks into the booth next to me, pulling me close to his side. When the guy from the bar comes over to our table a few seconds later, a friend in tow, Blake’s arm tenses around my shoulders. What started out as a casual show of our relationship, turns into a grip with the sole purpose of staking his claim on me. Jade rolls her eyes, not in any way whatsoever attempting to cover up her disapproval of Blake’s behavior.
    Extending his hand to Jade, bar guy introduces himself as Johnny. “And this is Chris. So, how about that dance?”
    Before either of us can say anything, Blake answers for us. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m