“Exactly,” he says, nodding, and I want to kick him in the shins. But with these heels, I’d likely fall on my ass right in the middle of this party, thus illustrating precisely why I don’t belong here.
“Why? Because I’m not cool enough or pretty enough to be in a sorority, never mind attend one of their stupid clique parties?”
He flinches as if I did in fact kick him. “Fuck no, that’s not why! They’d be lucky to have someone as beautiful and real as you as a member. I only meant that you’re way too smart and original to follow the orders of someone like Morgan Hyatt.” Cal flicks his head toward the sorority president he’d just been talking with.
My temper decreases by several notches upon hearing this, but I’m still annoyed that he thinks he knows where I belong. “Well, I’m sorry if I’m not like the girls you know, the type who would come here and hang on your arm, not the fun, go-with-the-flow chick who likes to stay up late and listen to music instead of preparing for her classes the next day.”
Again, Cal throws me a confused look. “April?” he asks cautiously, like he’s talking to an insane woman and hell, maybe he is, because ever since he moved next door, he’s been driving me crazy, one song and smirk at a time. I feel like I no longer know who I am or what I want anymore. “Why do you keep saying ‘not like the girls you know?’”
“I’m simply using your own words.”
Cal glances around, as if double-checking that I’m still speaking to him and not someone else. “My words?”
“Yours.” I poke his chest in confirmation. “She’s not like you,” I repeat, doing my best Cal impression. “That is literally what you said about me to some giggly girl hanging out in your room the first week of school.”
Cal opens his mouth to argue, but then closes it, recollection dawning on his handsome face.
Bingo! Look who has caught on to the conversation.
He’s shaking his head, though. “April, I meant that as a compliment.”
“In what world is that a compliment?”
“Seriously, I meant it in a good way. I was defending you.”
I snort and Cal gently lifts my chin, forcing me to look him in his stupidly sweet eyes. “You’re the most straightforward person I know, and I like you.”
My mouth drops open, and I see truth reflected there before he looks away, staring past me. My head is swirling with questions, but my heart is urging me to shout that I like him, too.
Before I can sort it all out, Cal speaks first as always. “If you still have to keep fighting this and are dead set on proving that our chemistry is a fluke and doesn’t mean anything, I have the perfect candidate for you,” Cal says, gripping my elbow and leading me toward the bathrooms.
“Huh?” I call out, trailing in his wake as people part for us like the Red Sea. Suddenly, Cal stops and I bump into his hard back.
Turning, Cal helps to set me straight on my wobbly heels. “If you need to kiss someone else to compare, or whatever, then Allister Balmore the third is your man. He’s always hooking up with a new chick. I’m sure he’ll make room for you.”
I’m shaking my head, but Cal doesn’t seem to notice. “No, I don’t need—” I protest, but Cal is already delivering a light punch to a good-looking guy’s shoulder.
“Hey Trey, my man.”
Allister or “Trey” looks up, surprised, but then gives Cal a thin smile. “Haven’t seen much of you this year, Cal. Where have you been hiding? Or should I say, who have you been hiding with?” he asks, peering past Cal and staring directly at me before shooting me a wink. It’s not playful like when Cal does it.
“You two should meet,” Cal says, his voice sounding hard, not at all like his normal, lighthearted tone. “This lil’ hottie is April Harris. She’s a junior.”
Trey looks me up and down like a snack that he wants to devour. Funny, if Cal did the same thing, I think I’d be dizzy with anticipation, but having this guy do it has me wanting to gag. “Nothing ‘junior’ about her,” Trey says to Cal, as if I’m not even there.
Every article of clothing he’s wearing has a brand name on it, from his tight sweater and skinny jeans to his Gucci sneakers. He keeps twirling his car keys around his finger, too, brandishing an overly large Porsche keychain.
“April, I haven’t had the pleasure,” Trey says with a practiced smile and hair flip. Pocketing his keys, he extends a hand to me. Instead of a shake, though, he flips my palm face down and places a wet kiss on the back of my hand. More accurately, it’s a quick suck, rather than a kiss, and I pull my hand back. Trey chuckles, as if I said or did something funny. My gut tightens and twists, reminding me of the time with mini-golf guy just before he leaned in to kiss me. I can feel what’s coming and I don’t want any part of it.
“I’ll let you guys get to know one another,” Cal says, turning to leave.
Trey doesn’t bother to acknowledge Cal’s retreat. How can he when his eyes are trained on my breasts? Protectively, I cross my arms across them.
“Wait!” I yell to Cal, but he’s already out of earshot and people are filling the space he just vacated. I make a move to follow, but Sir Douche the Third stops me.
I can smell beer on his breath as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “What’s your hurry, beautiful? Let’s dance.” Before I can agree or not, he’s grinding up against me from behind, bumping in time with the hip hop song playing, and I can feel him getting hard. Alarms are sounding in my head and I wiggle to get away, but Trey seems to think it’s my lame attempt at dancing and sways more.
“They say April showers bring May flowers,” Trey says in my ear, his grip on my hip tightening, his fingers spreading toward my crotch. “Well, is your flower wet?”
