Double Time (Double Threat series)

By: Julie Prestsater

Dedication





To all my Twitter friends …

You make me laugh, send me words of encouragement,

and you’ve spread the word about the Double Threat books.

I’m so happy to have found people who love Meggie and Alex as much as I do.

Thank you a kabillion times!





One





“Okay, chicas … it’s time,” Stephanie says, relaxing her shoulders with a big sigh.

“Yes, it is,” I add, grasping her hand.

“S-L-Y … single ladies year,” Keesha reminds us, as if we need reminding. She takes my other hand and here we are—all dressed up, all made up, checking ourselves out in the mirrors of my closet doors.

Steph looks comfortable in a plus-sized pair of skinny jeans, a fitted shirt. Her girls are almost spilling out—just enough to be sexy but not so much she looks like a skank. A cute pair of strappy sandals shows off her freshly painted toes. Long wavy curls flow to her waist and just a tad of makeup creates this beauty grinning before us. She’s ready. Definitely ready.

Keesh could wear a ratty old apron and she’d still look gorgeous. She too is wearing dark skinny jeans, but with a black ruffle lace tube top. A string of beads flows right down the center of her cleavage. She’s starting to look older…like a woman. Steph and I still have baby faces, but Keesh could be mistaken for her early twenties. Her skin is so smooth it looks airbrushed and her makeup is flawless. I’d have to spend all day with an extreme makeover team to get that look and I wouldn’t come close—and Keesh does it herself.

I’m just typical, little old me. Ha ha. Just kidding. I look smokin’. Okay, not really. Well, yeah, I look good. It was hard, but I kept the pounds off over the summer. Even when most of our adventures included going out to eat or drinking beer. Maybe it was all the horsing around in the pool that helped me out. Or maybe it was … oh, never mind. I don’t want to talk about Travis right now. He’s still a sore subject.

So, me? I’m workin’ the skinny jean thing too. Mine aren’t super tight or anything. Just enough to show off my shape, which finally isn’t a pear. And I really like my new top—long sleeve black mesh with a black cami underneath.

“You look hot, Meggie,” Keesh says. With the three of us still holding hands, looking each other up and down, from head to toe, I respond, “Thanks. So do you guys. Now let’s go.”





My mom leaves us off at the mall. When Lydia gets off work from Express, she’s going to drop us off at the party. I’m missing the guys already. Well, Dominic and Ben. Without them, getting around is going to be difficult. I don’t see why we have to steer clear of Ben. It’s not like any of us have ever gone out with him. The girls think the one time we went to Wendy’s freshmen year counts as going out, so Ben’s in the no-fly zone too—the place where we have put all the ex-boyfriends, ex-friends with benefits, ex-crushes, etc. We’ve made a pact to not hook up with any of those foolios this year. It’s all about new guys, new experiences, and lots and lots of fun. But before we can get down to it … we need a ride.

Just one more year of needing a chauffeur. Next year, all three of us will have our licenses and be able to tote each other around. We took our driving class over the summer and got our permits. It really sucks none of us thought about getting all of this taken care of before we turned sixteen. Now we have to wait six months before we can get our actual licenses and another year before we can drive each other around—legally, I mean, but who follows that rule? By then, we’ll be eighteen so it doesn’t even matter. The boys, of course, could care less about obeying the law. Josh got his license during the summer, and he’s taking Travis to the party.

Last night, Josh asked us if we wanted a ride, but Trav cut him off and said, “No way…these chicks want to ditch us now, remember? So they’re on their own. If they want to go out, act like hoochies, and hook up with a bunch of dudes, let ‘em. But we’re not gonna help ‘em.”

“Fair enough,” Josh agreed.

Boys. So difficult. They’re acting like babies just because we want to meet new people. Okay, I’d probably be pissed too if Travis told me he’d like to put things on hold for a while so he could explore other options. Wow. When I put it like that, it does sound mean. Now I get why he stares me down like he wants to punch me in the face. The glare never lasts long enough to make the intended impact on me … but I can see his frustration.





Lydia puts the car in park a few houses down from the party. No way do we want her to pull in the driveway to drop us off.

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