“DUDE, the hot chick from Greenies is here.”
I glance up from the floor with lightning speed, immediately searching for the redheaded waitress who left me wanting the other day. Instead, I find the one Jackson’s been drooling over for the past year. Like he is right now, looking like a pathetic, love-struck puppy, eyes glazed and tongue lolling. Raising my hand, I cuff him on the back of the head. “Grow a pair and talk to the girl, dumbass.”
Lost in his lusting, I don’t think he even hears me. Gaze drifting back over to where the waitress stands, swarmed by seemingly every man at this party, I survey the object of Jackson’s affection. She’s hot, that much is undeniable. Leggy, busty, blonde. The trifecta. She’s more my usual type than Jackson’s but I’m not going to fuck with the whole horny teenager thing he’s got going on.
“Not the waitress you were thinking of, is it, Nicky boy?”
With a huffed sigh, I glance at the kid leaning on the counter across from me with a knowing smirk on his hairless face. At first glance, you’d never guess this Halloween party was my newest, youngest, roommate’s idea; his costume is jack shit. I spent an hour being tortured with face paints but somehow, the little shit gets away with throwing on his baseball uniform and calling it a fucking costume. Even Jackson is more creative, and all he did was stick a cowboy hat on his messy head.
“Shut up,” I grunt, shooting him a scowl before taking another slug of my drink. The tang of rum is undeniable, stronger than I usually have, a tell-tale sign Ben mixed my drink. Kid has the tolerance of a toddler so he makes the rest of our drinks stronger to balance the scales. Infallible logic, I have to admit.
“Oh, come on, Nicky,” Ben ignores my instructions in favor of busting my balls harder. “You’ve been perving at the girl every time we’re in Greenies for months now. I thought you were gonna cry when you finally spoke the other day.”
Ben’s smirk is a full-blown grin now and Jackson, finally having torn his attention away from his favorite waitress, hides his own smile behind his beer. “I thought he was gonna cry when she rejected him.”
I ignore my housemates. Perving. Dramatic assholes. So what if I stare at the girl every now and then? View’s pretty good. Jackson barely takes his eyes off the blonde and no one gives him shit. No, they reserve all their shit-giving for me.
“Nicky’s got a crush and he doesn’t even know her name,” Ben sings, bouncing on the balls of his feet like the excitable child he is. For the hundredth time since this semester started, I wonder why the fuck I agreed to let a freshman move in. Fuck, Cass and Jackson seriously screwed me with their blindsiding.
“I don’t have a fucking crush.”
My ‘friends’ exchange glances before rolling their eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we know. The big, bad Nicolas Silva doesn’t get measly crushes. He sleeps with women and doesn’t call them, eats girl’s hearts for breakfast, hooks up with their mothers, blah blah blah, feelings are for the weak. We know, big guy.”
If looks could kill, I’m confident Ben would be six feet under. Ever since he moved in, the kid’s had a gripe with my lifestyle. Just because he fucks to settle down doesn’t mean I should. Because I think it’s easier for everyone if feelings don’t get involved—something I make very fucking clear from the get-go—I’m the bad guy. For God’s sake, he’s only seventeen. What the hell does he know?
Besides, it’s all a moot point. I don’t have a crush on Red. She’s just… interesting. Intriguing. Captivating, with those pretty green eyes, all those messy curls framing her face like flames. My lips turn up at the memory of her rejecting me and looking so damn proud of herself as she did.
I wonder if she’d look that proud if she knew how much I love a challenge.
I wonder if she’s nearby, considering her friend’s proximity. She must be at the party, at least.
Gaze wandering back in Blondie’s direction, my head cocks in curiosity when I find another girl at her side. The newcomer, not quite as tall as her friend but just as hot, rises on her toes to whisper something in Blondie’s ear. Matching concerned frowns mar their faces as they scan the room simultaneously. I watch as Not-Blondie rubs one of those white-blonde braids of hers between her fingers, an obvious display of stress, and there’s my opening. I give Jackson a nudge of warning a split second before I stride in their direction.
“Can I help you ladies with something?” I ask the moment I’m within earshot, my mouth turned up in a lazy smile. Not-Blondie, dressed as a poor interpretation of a cat, regards me first, brown eyes narrowing when they meet mine. As if they know me. As if she doesn’t like me.
Interesting.
“No,” is her curt response, uttered at the same time her much friendlier buddy replies, “We’re looking for our friend.”
My posture straightens ever so slightly. A certain redhead, maybe?
“Want us to help?” I find myself offering before I can think my words through, jerking my head towards Jackson who’s finally managed to unstick his cowardly ass from the kitchen counter and creep towards us. Looking Blondie in the eye is still too tall of a task for him, apparently, so I take the initiative to introduce both of us, slapping my friend on the back in an attempt to snap him out of his silent stupor. “I’m Nick, this is Jackson.”
Eye contact is clearly not a problem for Blondie; she’s staring at Jackson with a dangerous glint in her eye, like a cat surveying a mouse. She extends a hand towards him, full lips curling into a smooth smile, a smile that looks an awful lot like the one I gave Red the other day.
I like this girl.
“Luna,” she introduces herself, voice low and sultry, and fuck yeah, I like this girl. Her slender fingers wrap around Jackson’s and I swear to God, the man almost collapses from one simple touch. Truly pathetic.
Glancing aside, I find Luna’s friends watching the pair with raised brows, seemingly as amused as me. When she catches me looking, however, her face smoothes into a disinterested expression.
Pasting on my most winning smile, I wink. “I’ll check upstairs, you check outside?”
Eyes still narrowed, she huffs a sigh before disappearing, calling a brief description of her lost friend over her shoulder as she goes. Red hair, green eyes, dressed as a devil.
Sounds like the girl I’m looking for.
As I shove through the crowd of people littering my living room, I find another reason for Ben to own spot number one on my shit list; he said this was going to be a small thing. Lying little bastard.
The sheer number of people stuffed in here is hindering my ability to find Red, so there’s another thing for me to be pissed about. My fucking elbows hurt by the time my feet hit the stairs, and I maybe shove the last remaining people in my way a little harder than necessary, just for the fun of it. I cast a glare back at the surely hundreds of drunk students stumbling around, strongly considering kicking everyone out because the heat and the thumping music are starting to get to me when the sound of voices distracts me.
Very loud, very angry voices, a guy and a girl arguing.
Intrigued, I pause to listen, wincing when the girl hisses pure poison, “No, fucking you in the bathroom an hour ago was a mistake. A very unsatisfying mistake.”
Ai. Hitting him right where it hurts. Guy must have fucked up bad.
I’m considering leaving them to it—fuck if I want to get in the middle of that—when the guy swears loudly, his curse echoed by a thud and a quiet whimper, and suddenly, I’m taking the stairs two at a time.
I make it to the top in time to see some vaguely familiar blond guy slam the very redhead I’ve been searching for against the wall. He—the handsy dipshit from the diner, if I’m not mistaken—leans in close, speaking low and quiet, uttering something I can’t hear but whatever it is has Red’s face crumpling in fear, another whimper escaping her lips.
It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to freeze my feet to the floor and not flatten the fucker the way my body and brain are begging me to.
“Is there a problem here?” I will my voice to come out flat and even, not threatening and booming like it wants to. Red’s shaking hard enough to shatter; I don’t want to scare her any more than he already has.
The second he notices my presence, the guy drops Red’s arm before taking a step back, and my temper flares when I notice the way Red cradles her wrist with a wince. Immediately, she steps away from him, closer to me. No, closer to the stairs.
Good girl. Get the hell out of here.
It’s no kind of comfort when Red shakes her head slightly, a quiet lie to my question. Neither of them says a word yet the palpable, uneasy silence speaks volumes, the glare Jackass fixes Red with saying it all.
When she makes her move, darting towards the stairs, it hurts, resisting the urge to reach out and stop her. Instead, I use my voice. “You okay?”
Green eyes dart to mine, wide and glassy and terrified and, God, I want to punch that asshole. Frowning slightly, she takes me in, head tilted, brow furrowed. Trying to figure out where she knows me from, I realize. Either I didn’t make a lasting impression or she’s too drunk to remember because no recognition flashes in those pretty eyes. Shooting me the least convincing smile I’ve ever seen, she mumbles an even less convincing ‘I’m fine’ before bolting down the stairs.
Not before she threatens the giant lump of shit still glaring at her.
A weird feeling of pride bursts in my chest at the sound of her spat words.
In a flurry of red curls, she disappears downstairs, and when Jackass tries to follow her, I block the way. A hand on his chest, I shove him backward. “You think hurting your girlfriend makes you a big man, huh?”
Eyes rolling, he barks a laugh. “Mind your business, Silva.”
I frown at his use of my last name. Fuck, do I know this asshole? Squinting a little, I examine the little twerp. Shitty blond hair, shitty blue eyes, a shitty garish bird tattooed on his shitty bare chest….I suppress a groan.
Dylan fucking Wells.
My freshman year roommate. God, how did I forget him? I had to deal with his bitching and whining for an entire academic year. Dylan was a massive pain in the ass. He makes Ben seem completely tolerable. Apparently, he still is a massive pain in the ass.
A massive abusive pain in the ass.
“Get out of my house, Wells.” I step to the side, jerking my head towards the stairs. “I see you back here again or touching another girl like that, I’ll make sure your girlfriend’s little promise comes true.”
I’m a little disappointed when Dylan takes the first warning issued, scowling before storming down the stairs. Thirty seconds later, I hear the front door slam. Damn. I was kind of hoping he’d argue so I’d have an excuse to physically throw his ass out.
Sucking in a steadying breath, I follow him down, peeking out the front door to check he’s not lurking like the cockroach he is, before fixing my attention on more important matters.
It doesn’t take me long to find her again. A red-headed devil downing tequila like it’s water isn’t exactly hard to track down. Head tipped back, she holds the bottle to her parted mouth, her skin glowing a pretty pink color as the alcohol works its way into her bloodstream and, fuck. She’s gorgeous. I have to physically shake my head to clear it of images of full, pouty lips before approaching her.
“You sure you’re okay?” She jumps at the sound of my voice, whirling around to face me, and I try very hard not to imagine licking away the droplets of liquor dripping down the side of her mouth.
Dragging the back of her hand across her mouth, she smiles tightly, her second silent lie to me.
“You here alone?” I already know the answer before she nods, obviously. Her friends are wandering around here somewhere, completely oblivious to whatever the hell happened upstairs. I should find them for her but a small, selfish part of me is reluctant to share. Even if I don’t have her full attention.
She keeps looking past me, scanning what she can see of the living room, and from the guarded edge in her gaze, I have a solid bet who she’s cautiously searching for.
“I kicked him out,” I reassure her softly, relief glimmering in those emerald eyes. She cocks her head at me, opening her mouth to speak, but the sudden arrival of two shrieking women interrupts whatever she was about to say.
“There you are,” a high-pitched voice squeals, a delighted Luna damn near suffocating her friend with the force of her hug. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Not-Blondie snorts as she tugs on a strand of her friend’s hair. “I’m sorry, did you think she was lost in Oscar Jackson’s eyes?”
Braids fly as Not-Blondie gets shoved. “Shut up.”
My presence barely gets an acknowledgment; a disdainful nod from Not-Blondie and a flutter of lashes from Luna before they ignore my existence in favor of dragging each other towards the dance floor.
I’m ready to follow, I’m so fucking ready to follow, especially when Red glances over her shoulder, seeking me out a last time. I’ve already taken a step in her direction and I’m taking another but a hand clutching my bicep holds me in place. Glancing down, I take one look at the blood-red talons, I get a single whiff of suffocating perfume, and I groan. Before I even hear a saccharine voice purr,“hi, handsome,” I’m already regretting all of my past choices. Specifically, the ones that led to me repeatedly fucking the woman attaching herself to my side, smirking up at me, caressing my arm like it’s a fucking puppy.
She was fun the first time. She was convenient the second time. The third time, I was drunk off my fucking ass and honestly have very little recollection of it. Her name is a mystery to me and I truly don’t think I could pick her out of a line-up but judging by the way she’s pressing up on me right now, she doesn’t mind. “Wanna dance?”
With her? No.
Does that stop me from slinging an arm around her shoulders and letting her lead me onto the dance floor, towards the person I actually want to dance with?
No.
