Starting With You

2. Turn off app notifications alerting me of my best friend's hotness.

Teddy

JENSEN'S HAND, ROUGH WITH THE CALLOUSES HE earned from farm work his whole life, skims down my arm to wrap around my wrist, tugging me in the direction of the bar.

The day slowly turned to night on the brief drive into town, and now everything is saturated with muted blue tones. We walk under the warm glow of the streetlights, as if illuminating the point of contact where he's touching me.

He turns to look at me, first with a slight turn of his head and then he pivots his body when he realizes I'm barely moving. "Teddy," he says as he jiggles my arm to get my attention. "Let's go! Hangry, remember?"

I roll my eyes at his stupid smirk and try to tug my arm away. Instead of relinquishing his grip on my wrist, he moves his hand to take mine in a light hold. The touch feels tentative, as if any sudden movement could break the contact. In fact, the moment we approach the door to the bar's entrance, my hand falls out of his, leaving it dangling between us as he pulls open the door.

I use the hand to swipe the loose hairs that fell out of my braid behind my ear and walk through the door he holds open for me. I'm immediately assaulted by the commotion of the bar, and I pause to get my bearings. It seems most of Lake Hope residents have beaten us here. The low tables in the middle of the building as well as the high-top tables that line the perimeter are filled with people, their voices and laughter competing with the loud music filtering through the speakers.

Jensen stops a few inches behind me and tugs at my braid. "This way, Chipmunk," he gruffly whispers into my ear, the heat of his breath raising goosebumps on my neck. He guides me to a high-top table in the back corner that is already filled with familiar faces. He's busy greeting his friends and family as I find an open seat and fall into it.

"Teddy!" a petite blonde next to me squeals. "Thank God you're here! It was turning into a sausage fest."

Jensen's baby sister, Sutton, is usually the loudest in the room. This is probably because she grew up in a house spilling with chaos. Jensen and Sutton's dad remarried a few years after their mom's death, which gained them three stepsiblings – twin brothers and a sister. Also add in a foster brother. Oh, and a cousin who lived with them more than she didn't.

The Anderson house was always a bustling center of activity. If you weren't loud, you might go unnoticed.

At Sutton's mention of sausages, I look around the table to see who showed up tonight. We often end up here at Roxy's, one of three bars in town, on Friday nights. Tonight we've only pushed two tables together, indicating we're missing quite a few people. And, yep, Sutton's right: sausage party.

"Where are Vivi and JJ?" I shout at Sutton.

The music blares through the speakers, the energy in the bar amping up as more people trickle in. Roxy's is where the younger crowds tend to congregate. Although, looking around, I'm realizing that maybe we aren't exactly the young crowd anymore. It's the only place in town that has a designated area for dancing. And, by that, I mean tables are pushed aside after 10 pm to allow for those drunk enough to gyrate to the loud music. I try to always leave before the dancing begins.

"They're being lame," Sutton whines, showing me her pouty face.

Vivi is her stepsister. Since they're the same age, they grew up telling everyone they're fraternal twins. They went through a brief transitional period after their parents married where they were sworn enemies. Growing up in this small town meant they knew each other pre-marriage, but they both belonged to different groups of friends. After the marriage, they made sure the line separating the friend group was as defined as the line they taped down the center of their shared bedroom at home. Thankfully the feud was only a brief affair and they ended up working through their issues before the end of the first year of marriage.