Pinpoint (Point #4) Read Online Free Page B

nights together as a threesome. Not that kind of threesome, more like I’m the third wheel to their perfectly balanced bicycle. But neither Cam nor Violet ever makes me feel like a burden. In fact, they often plan group activities with their friends just to include me. I have no proof that this is the case, but all the dinners, movies, and invitations to sports outings are a little too convenient.
    “That guy is the biggest kiss ass,” Cameron grumbles when we’re safely in the elevator. Violet and I share a silent, charged look and burst into giggles.
    “You are an international celebrity. Of course, he’s impressed,” I tease.
    “And so damn sexy,” Violet adds jokingly—although I know she means it.
    Cameron raises his eyes toward the ceiling in mock exasperation. “You Harper girls are a handful.”
    We’re all laughing when we exit the elevator and make our way past a restaurant with retractable glass windows that open onto an outdoor area with bistro tables and couches. The roof boasts a stainless steel lap pool surrounded by striped daybeds, firepits, curved restaurant booths, and the sweeping skyline views. Like the good-looking guy phenomenon (minus Oscar Alexander), I’m no longer stunned speechless by the sight of opulence. Visiting event venues and spending time with members of the Chicago Scrapers professional hockey team has conditioned me to supress my small-town awe.
    “There they are,” Violet says pointing at a cluster of daybeds in the furthermost corner of the deck. She leads Cameron and me through a maze of furniture and sun-worshipping socialites. I keep my eyes glued on Cameron’s back as I feel the pinpricks of anxiety emerge on my fingertips. At times like this, I wish I were a different person, someone more like my brave sister who can strike up a conversation with anyone.
    “Hey, guys.” Violet cheerfully announces our arrival.
    Silently, I coach myself. You can do this. These are Cameron and Violet’s friends. I’ve only met two of these five guys. They are Cameron’s teammates on the Scrapers. Tucker Smithson is a right wing, whatever that means, and is always friendly to me. Ralph Hoss is a defenseman, and like Tucker, I met him at one of Cameron’s barbecues. Both are friendly, but still, I stand awkwardly to the side as my sister and her boyfriend greet their friends. As much as Violet and Cameron welcome me into their social circle, I find myself on the fringe. It’s not that Violet’s friends aren’t nice to me—they are all welcoming and kind. It’s that I don’t have the courage to spend time with anyone unless my sister invites me. I want to make my own friends. Add it to the column of reasons why I’m thrilled to volunteer at Mentoring Chicago.
    “Iris—almost didn’t see you there. Why you hiding?” Tucker steps over the legs of the guy on the corner and envelops me into a friendly bear hug. I relax a little and wrap my arms around him briefly.
    Shrugging, I fib. “I wasn’t hiding. Cameron’s so big you didn’t see me behind him. One of the drawbacks of being short.”
    With an arm still casually draped around my shoulders, Tucker angles me toward the group. “Guys, this is Iris, Violet’s sister. Iris, that’s Kevin, Wilson, Marc, and you know Ralph already.”
    With a shy smile and a flicker of my fingers, I mumble my hello.
    “What was that, gorgeous? I didn’t hear you,” the guy named Kevin calls out. I fight the urge to take a step backward. God, I’m inexperienced. Any attention from a guy and I curl up into myself.
    Grow up, Iris! You’re twenty-seven years old.
    I clear my throat as though a frog was the reason they couldn’t hear me. “Nice to meet you.”
    “The feeling is mutual.” Aviator sunglasses mask his eyes, but I can tell by Kevin’s wicked grin that he’s one of those shameless flirts. The other guys are friendly enough and don’t show much interest in me.
    At first, I sit next to Tucker, listening to their