“Sure.”
“Even though you’re not psychic?”
“Even though I’m not psychic.”
“Do you think any of your ancestors were plant whisperers?”
He smiles. “Iknowsome of them were. But don’t worry, I’ve got a million other questions for them.”
Yeah, me too. If getting in touch with my ancestors can help me better understand my ability, and better understandmyself, then it’s exactly what I need.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Friday night at O-Chi,we celebrate my birthday. Sort of. And mostly thanks to Liv. She bought me a cake, which the brothers were happy to help eat, and Cole mixed me a special birthday drink, but only because I refused to do tequila shots. We played Never Have I Ever and Drunk Jenga, and now we’re all sprawled around the living room making pitiful attempts at coherent conversation. Zander and I are lying on the floor, my head on his chest, while Liv and Braden sit on the couch above us, her legs stretched across his lap. Earlier this week, he finally asked her to the Mardi Gras ball, thank god, and now he’s relishing in her gratitude.
Cole and Jenna are playing Smash Bros and Jenna is kicking Cole’s ass. For some reason, I find this hysterically funny and can’t stop laughing. Not until Braden chucks a dingy throw pillow right in my face. It reeks of must and sweaty feet.
“Ugh. This thing is disgusting.” I hurl it back at him. “There’s such a thing as a washing machine, you know.”
Braden pretends to be shocked. “No way. Is there? Get the fuck out of town.”
“You can’t wash pillows like that,” Cole says as he sidekicks Jenna’s Princess Peach. “You have to take them to the dry cleaners.”
“Fuck that,” says Zander.
I shake my head. “No, you can wash them if you do it in cold on the gentle cycle.”
Braden barks a laugh. “Okay, no dude uses the gentle cycle.”
“And that’s why your pillows are a biohazard.”
“Just try washing them,” Liv chimes in. “What’s the worst that can happen? Even if they fall apart, they’re still better off than they are now.”
“Hmm, I’ve got an idea.” Braden runs a hand up Liv’s thigh and leans in for a kiss. “How about you and Betts wash them for us? You know, since you know how.”
I snort like a horse on Zander’s chest.
He tugs playfully on my ponytail. “Sounds like a great idea.”
“No way.”
Braden nuzzles Liv. “But if you want to be an O-Chi Sweetheart…”
Jenna cuts him off. “We don’t do your laundry.”
“Damn straight,” Mia confirms. “No housework.”
By this point, I’m only half listening. Since when have Liv and Braden discussed her being an O-Chi Sweetheart? To her, it would be the next best thing to being in a sorority. I prop up on my elbows and whisper to Zander, “Is Braden serious about Liv being a Sweetheart?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t he be?” Zander has that peaceful, half-sedated look he gets when he’s got the perfect buzz. His blue eyes are heavy-lidded and his smile slow.
I, however, am not feeling so calm. “Just so long as he’s not jerking her around.” It seems to me like Braden’s dangling Sweetheart over Liv like the proverbial carrot. “She can’t take any more heartbreak.”
“He’s not. He’s serious. We’ve all already talked about it.”
I shoot up. “You have?”
Zander sits up, too, and grins at me. “Yeah. The brothers have already agreed to vote you in.”
