“Who knew the Civil Engineering Master’s program was so intense.”
“I know. And he’s already so busy with his internship. I worry he’s going to run himself into the ground.”
“Then I guess it’ll be up to you to make sure he doesn’t.”
“Yeah.” She gives me a soft smile, not saying more as Char bounces up to us, looking like an absolute bombshell in the deep blue minidress she’s wearing, her red hair curled and left to hang freely down her back. It’s no wonder River couldn’t resist her. I doubt any man could.
“Why are you two standing around like little sad saps?” She takes my hand and then Lyric’s, pulling us deeper into the house, toward the pulsing music.
“What about your new friend?” I ask, looking back toward the kitchen.
“She’s getting a drink and then she’ll be joining us.”
“At least she likesyou,” I grumble.
“She doesn’tnotlike you.” She chuckles. “Just give her time.”
“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this,” I grumble when we enter a large living room packed wall to wall with people dancing and talking, even though it’s damn near impossible to hear yourself think, let alone be able to carry on an actual conversation.
“Riv.” Lyric turns toward her brother, who follows behind Char like her own personal bodyguard. “Would you be so kind as to grab us some drinks?” She gives him a wide smile.
“I guess.” He leans down, speaking directly into Charlotte’s ear. I watch the way her eyes darken and her skin flushes, and I can take a guess on what he’s probably saying based on herreaction.
Moments later, he disappears, heading back in the direction from which we just came.
“You’re so fucked,” I tell Char, who still looks slightly flustered by whatever River said to her.
“What?” She smiles, the color not fading from her cheeks.
“You. Are. So. Fucked.” I repeat it more clearly, gesturing to where River just stood.
“Not fucked. Well, I will be later. But right now... I’m just...”
“In love.” Lyric finishes for her, a knowing look in her eyes.
“That.” Char smiles so widely it damn near splits her face. “Now come on. I want to dance.” She nudges us farther into the room.
It doesn’t take long for Lana to join us. Even though I know she probably still hates my guts, she’s been a lot more friendly toward me since our talk. Now, instead of complaining about everything I do, she simply tolerates it. That doesn’t mean I have any delusions that she likes me. But I’m hopeful I can win her over with my wit and charm—insert sarcasm.
When River returns with our drinks, sweat has already gathered at my nape from the too-warm room, even though we’ve only been dancing for less than a full song. I down the contents in minutes, allowing the warmth of the alcohol to soothe away my cares.
Excusing myself after a few minutes, I weave through the thick crowd of people in an effort to get to the bathroom. Which, of course, has a line nearly a mile long. Groaning, I join the line, leaning my shoulder against the wall, tensing when a familiar voice hits my ears, what feels like seconds later.
I spin to find none other than Macallan Stewart slide up next to me, his cocky smile and easy charm nowhere to be found as he openly scowls at me.
It does nothing to hide his beauty. I’m pretty sure nothing could. Not his anger. Not my hatred for him. Even if my insides rage at the sight of him, my eyes are transfixed on his firm jaw covered with a dusting of dark hair. I’ve never seen him with facial hair before, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make his already irresistible looks even more so.
I let my eyes dip for a brief moment, taking in the way his gray T-shirt strains against his broad shoulders and sharp muscle definition. Years spent in the weight room and football conditioning on full display.
I can envision it even now, two years later. Every rigid dip of muscle. Every perfect inch of tanned skin. The way his abs lead a rippling trail down to the deep V of his pelvis. It’s like he was snatched straight off the pages of a romance novel and dropped here in the real world to remind all of us petty humans just how unattainable he is.
I’m so irritated by the thought that I have to resist the urge to jam my fist straight into the center of his throat.
His teal-colored eyes hold mine and it takes me way too long to realize he’s waiting for a reply. Only I was so taken bywhowas speaking that I completely forgot to listen to what he actually said.
“What?” I snap angrily, refusing to let my guard be lowered by how pathetically I’m swayed by his looks.
“I said, what are you doing here with Lana Crawford?”
