Lance doesn’t look up from the controllers he’s still messing with. “Why is that such a surprise?”

“Uh, maybe because you don’t date.”

“I set up a Tinder profile so I don’t have to go to the bars since all you assholes have your dicks nailed down.”

Randy chokes on his beer and puts a protective hand over his balls. “Dude, not a nice image.”

“Shit. Sorry, man. Bad choice of words.”

“I’m going to point out that Tinder isn’t a dating site. It’s a hook-up site,” Miller says as he roots through the cabinet in the entertainment center.

Lance shrugs. “This way I’m guaranteed no bullshit. I’m gonna get naked and come, hopefully more than once, and in as many holes as I can.”

Darren coughs. “You’re a classy bastard, Romero.”

Lance smiles, but it’s stiff. “The classiest.” He turns to me. “Anyway, it looks like you’re really going through with this whole wedding thing, aye?”

“The date’s set. We’re just finalizing details and ironing out the guest list.” I glance around the room. “Obviously you guys are all invited.”

Lance goes back to messing with the controller. “You uh…invitin’ Tash to your shindig?”

I figured the Tinder hook-ups meant he was over that, but maybe not. “Violet still talks to her, so she might extend the invitation. You gonna be okay with that?”

“For sure. We’re long over.” The tips of his ears go red, and he chugs the rest of his beer in three long swallows. I have a feeling there was a lot more going on between them than Lance ever owns up to.

“Found it!” Miller holds up a CD case.

On the cover is a picture of Sidney and Skye in their wedding outfits. Skye’s dress is…very Skye. It’s off-white, short, and tight. Violet gets her body from her mom. They’re both petite with big boobs. Skye wasn’t doing much to rein hers in for this picture.

“What’s that?” Randy asks.

“My dad and Skye’s wedding video.” Miller passes it to me.

“Just put it on.”

“Uhh…are you sure you want me to do that?”

“It’s fine. You were teenagers, right? It can’t be that bad.”

“If you say so.” Miller slides the CD into the slot, and we wait for the video to cue up. He fast-forwards through most of it until we get to the speeches.

“Nice tux, Butterson,” Lance says. “Where are you, Balls? Didn’t you two hang out in high school?”

“I was already in Toronto then. I got drafted to the farm team out there in my last year.”

Miller pauses the video on a grainy image of a much-younger Violet. “You sure you want to watch this with everyone here?”

“It’s fine.” I should know from Miller’s repeated questions that it’s not fine. But I keep telling myself it can’t be that bad, and they’re blowing it out of proportion. Violet can be dramatic at times.

“All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He hits play again.

The camera pans in on Violet. Her face is softer, rounder. Her long hair is pulled up into an intricate ponytail, and curled tendrils frame her face. I totally would have wanted to date her in high school. I bet all the guys had boners over her. I’m conflicted by the reaction in my pants, because she’s way underage in this video. She’s wearing glasses. They’re purple with little rhinestone decorations on the side.

“Holy shit? Is that Vi?” Lance asks.

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I gotta say, Butterson, I’m surprised you didn’t try to hit that. I mean, convenience factor aside, she was a hot nerd! And look at her boobs. Is it just me or are they bigger there?” Everyone turns to stare at him. “Uh, let’s pretend I didn’t say any of that.”

“Good call.”

“But I’m still surprised Butterson didn’t try to bone her. Or you.” He points at Randy.

“Do you have a death wish, Romero?” Darren asks.

“I didn’t meet Violet until this year,” Randy says.

“Violet was too busy being a Mathlete to hang out with me when our parents got married, and Randy was already in the minors getting his bunny on,” Miller says. “I was gonna set you up with her when she and Alex were on the outs back in May.”

I throw my hands up. “What the fuck, Miller?”

He shrugs. “You were being a dick and listening to your stupid agent. Violet was fucking miserable, moping around, eating dairy. I thought she might need a distraction.”

“So you thought hooking her up with Ballistic was a reasonable option?”

“Hey, I’m a good guy,” Randy says in his own defense.

“Calm your tits, Waters. She never went out with him, or anyone else, while you were on your break. She couldn’t even manage saying Randy’s name without thrusting.”

I have to say, I’m damn glad Violet never went out with Ballistic. He is a good guy, but from the stories Violet tells me, he and Lily have more sex than feral rabbits. I’d like to think my bedroom skills are better than his, but I’m very glad Violet has no firsthand knowledge as to whether or not that’s true.

“Oh! This is it.” Miller turns up the volume.

There’s a whispered conversation in which it sounds like Violet is arguing with her mom. She huffs and takes off her glasses, folding them neatly on the table before she pushes back her chair. She adjusts her dress—there’s a lot of cleavage—and stands.