My feet move on their own accord toward her, but I only make it one step before a guy I don’t recognize approaches her. She smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I don’t know why I stay rooted to the spot, watching. Beer turns in my stomach when the guy touches her elbow, and again when she laughs at something he says. The shirt she’s wearing might be two sizes too big for her, but the way she has it tucked up shows off a sliver of her perfectly smooth skin that’s holding on to that summer tan for dear life. Her blonde hair flows in waves down her back, and when she rounds the kitchen island, my eyes trail over her toned thighs all the way down to her ankles covered in pink and purple bracelets. The only thing that can break the spell of my stare is the sound of her laugh.
Whatever this guy said must be hilarious because she throws her head back, letting out a fit of giggles toward the ceiling before moving her hands with animation when she responds.
I’m so entranced when she lifts her hair, exposing the column of her throat that’s decorated in three different necklaces, that I barely register the fingernails that dance up my back and across my shoulders.
Kim steps around me, and her big blue eyes shine up at me through her lashes, but my eyes travel down to where my shirt is now tucked into the waistband of her skintight leggings.
“You’re missed outside.”
I bite down on my lower lip, grateful for the distraction. Not wanting to get sucked back into the vortex that is Chloe Cooper, I keep my eyes on the girl in front of me, drop an arm over her shoulder, and head back outside.
It only took one more round of truth or dare, and Gabe’s girlfriend admitting to never having a penetrative orgasm, for us to move on to a different game. Roughly six rounds of flip cup and five games of beer pong later, and pretty much everyone has started to find the front door.
The wall is holding me up as I look around the room and notice Silas has already done the Irish goodbye. Gabe andParker are outside with their girls in their laps; Noah is leading Savannah up the stairs, and when she lifts a hand in a wave, I follow her line of sight to where Chloe is sitting on the couch with the same guy from earlier. She nods along as they continue to talk, while taking sips from a blue solo cup now. Normally, I wouldn’t question someone’s alcohol consumption. The universe knows I’ve woken up naked with no memories from the night before on more than one occasion. But I saw both the heavy-handed pour and the frustrated phone situation prior. Both Guy Unknown and I watch Chloe’s full lips wrap around the rim of her cup as the bottom of it points up to the ceiling.
Kim—whom I’ve been told is actually Kat—might have an Apple tag on me tonight the way she keeps popping up out of nowhere. She’s a pretty girl. Long curly blonde hair, soft blue eyes, porcelain skin, and a straight white smile.
Usually, I like a girl who’s persistent—not that many have ever had to be—but for some reason, the only thing on her mind tonight and the only thing on my mind tonight don’t match up.
Kat’s hold around my wrist tightens as she props up on her toes and licks the shell of my ear. I flinch at the feeling, but she mistakes it for encouragement and drags the tip of her tongue down the column of my throat. “We should go somewhere a little more private,” she murmurs; her teeth grazing my earlobe.
Fingers still trail over my shoulder, but I barely feel them anymore. Over Kat’s shoulder, I catch sight of Chloe on the couch, twisting the blue scrunchie off her wrist and pulling her hair up with it. Any noise left in the room fades when her eyes lock on mine. Her lips part, and her chest rises, but doesn’t fall. For a moment, neither of us moves, and I know Chloe isn’t the only one holding her breath. My jaw tightens, teeth grazing my bottom lip, and she looks away.
“Did you hear me?”
I drop my eyes to Kat’s when she pulls back, and all the sound comes rushing back to me. The air no longer feels charged, but rather cool against the trail of saliva she left on my skin.
I give her a smile that I hope reads more excited than I feel, take her hand in mine, and open the door to my bedroom.
“You can sit over there on the futon.” I point to the small couch on the far wall.
She drags a hand across the end of my bed as she passes it, and I fight the urge to outwardly cringe.
“You sure you don’t want me here?”
I would take you missionary, knees digging into the rough edges of a frozen lake before I had you in my bed.
Her calves hit the back of the futon, and I cross the distance of the room in a few large strides, plop down on the couch, and pull her down on top of me. She wastes no time losing her shirt, and I appreciate her efficiency. I wait for the heat to surge through me, or for my hands to magnetize to her body, but as she continues to roll her hips over my lap, and drag her open mouth across my neck, my eyes practically burn a hole through my door.
Once I’m in my room, nothing outside it matters, but right now, all I can think about is what Chloe and that guy are doing on the other side of the wall now that they’re alone. Are her legs spread over his lap? Is he running his fingers through her wild hair, or grazing the skin of her back? Did she tell him she was upset earlier, or why? Fuck, with the amount she was drinking, does she even remember she was upset earlier?
Kat grunts, pulling me from my racing thoughts, and when she digs her nails into my shoulder, I feel absolutely nothing. Usually, it doesn’t take more than a look and I’m ready to go. Evidently, not tonight.
Her fingers sink past the waistband of my sweats,gripping the base of my cock, and like a reflex, I catch her wrist in my hand.
“I’m sorry. Do you mind if we take a rain check?”
Her hips freeze, and her head snaps back, confusion lining her brows. I’ve had a few beers, but I’m far from drunk, which is how I’m able to spot the traces of something like embarrassment or hurt in her eyes.
I might hook up with a lot of girls, but I’m not an asshole. I run my hands over her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze, before I shrug with a lopsided grin. “Whiskey dick,” I lie.
“Oh.” She jumps from my lap, throws her shirt back on, and begins smoothing down her hair while I stand and walk toward the door.
I hold the handle a beat longer than necessary before barely cracking it open. When no light pours through, I pull the door fully open. The moonlight coming through the backdoor lets in just enough light that I can make my way to the kitchen and flick on the dimmer switch.
“I’ll text you later?” she asks.
