“Stop whining,” Mom says as Dad gestures to the barman for another round.
Mom sends him a sly look. “You need to slow down,” she hisses, under her breath, all the while keeping that fake smile plastered on her mouth.
“And you need to stop telling me and Em what to do,” Dad hisses back.
I’m ready to say “Thanks, Dad” when we’re interrupted.
“Coach. Good to see you.” A large man with gray hair and a matching mustache slaps Dad on the back, dragging him into a private conversation. This happens all the time when I’m out with both of my parents. There is always someone claiming their attention, and I’m left to the sidelines.
“I have to talk to a few people. Behave while I’m gone, and don’t do anything to embarrass me,” Mom warns, shooting daggers at me before she wanders in the direction of a dark-haired man with his arm around a red-haired woman.
The moment she’s gone I feel like I can breathe again.
I lean against the bar as I scan the busy ballroom, silently promising myself that once I graduate and leave this place behind I am never stepping foot into one of these stuffy events again.
The fundraiser is being held in a ritzy hotel in town, and it’s crammed full of the usual blue bloods—distinguished families with old money who’ve kept their traditions and names intact.
Obnoxious assholes in my opinion.
It’s the same ole, same ole, and I honestly can’t fathom how anyone finds these nights entertaining.
I spot a broad-chested guy with thick brown hair from behind, listening to an elderly lady, and immediately, my mind drifts to the frat party and Adam. I’ve thought about him a lot since our encounter in front of Randolph Hall. Like how my body ignited on contact at the unspoken intimacy we shared.
I can’t remember the last time I had that butterfly feeling, but I sure felt it with Adam that night. Thoughts of that almost kiss, and the way his hard body felt pressed up against mine, sends shivers coursing through me. I moan quietly, biting down on my lip and squeezing my thighs together, as an intense need overwhelms me.
But it’s short-lived when the guy turns around, and I discover it’s not Adam.
Part of me is disappointed.
The other part is relieved.
Getting involved with my drug dealer is a mistake, and he’s a football player too, which is a double no.
The broad-chested guy saunters away, and my gaze follows him until I spot Wes’s smug head. My face contorts, and a low growl escapes my mouth. He’s in a huddle by one of the tables with his parents, and he’s got Blondie on his arm.
Good.
All I have to do is ensure I’m not left alone with him, and I should be safe.
I eye the bar with longing, and I would literally kill for a drink, but I’m not legal, so I’m stuck with soda. The vodka I ingested prior to coming here has worn off. I don’t even have any Molly on me.
Not with Mom around.
She checked my purse before we left, like she always does. She loves any opportunity to remind me of my failure. But even if she didn’t check, it’s too dangerous anyway, especially knowing Wes is in attendance. I need my wits about me, which is unfortunate, because if there was ever an occasion where I need to get high or drunk, this is it.
“Hey, beautiful.” An arm drapes around my shoulder from behind. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
I spin around, grinning at Zach. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in a suit, and his blue tie brings out the color in his amber eyes. “Nor I you.” I fling my arms around him, genuinely delighted to see him. “Did you bring a date?” I ask, looking over his shoulder.
He snorts, taking a sip of his drink. “As if. I’m flying solo with my parents.”
“Please say you’ll sit at my table and pretend to be my date?” At least, if I have Zach there, it’ll be bearable. And I’ll have a buffer against Wes.
Zach places his hands on my lower back, steering me over into the corner where it’s more private. He toys with a strand of my hair, smiling mischievously at me. “I’ll sit at your table but only if there’s no pretending going on.”
I jerk back, eyeing his face to see if he’s joking, but he looks deadly serious. “You want to be my date? For real?”
He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Why is that such a surprise? We’re hot together.”
