Page 45

Not all of it is fictional.

Anything involving Luca should generally be treated as fact until proven otherwise.

I had my own reckless month when I first arrived at UMS. Parties, women, enough bad decisions to briefly forget why I was here. Then classes started demanding actual work, and I remembered three men in LA were trusting me to fix their lives.

Since then, sex has fallen a long way down the priority list.

My dick has lodged several formal complaints.

I put my phone face down on the counter.

“There might be a party,” I say.

“Fuck yeah!” Drew launches himself off the couch.

* * *

“This is—bro. Bro. This is unreal. Thank you. You’re the best brother. I am never saying a bad word about you again.”

Drew’s grinning at me like a kid who’s been handed the keys to a theme park, and I can’t be anything but glad to see it. Plus, it stops him yapping in my ear all night. At least his energy can dissipate around the house of drunk college students.

Then I see Bea.

Heat punches straight through me.

My buttoned-up, red-pen-wielding tutor is standing across the room in a pink dress molded to every curve I’ve spent weeks trying not to picture. It fits tightly over her breasts, narrows at her waist and ends high enough on her thighs to make coherent thought briefly impossible.

Oh fuck.

She’s laughing with her head tipped back, throat exposed, hair spilling loose over her shoulders. Her hair is incredible down. I’ve only ever seen it up.

Fuck me.

I want my mouth on her mouth.

Her guard is completely down, and the sight of it does something worse than the dress. This is certainly not the careful Bea who sits across from me with a textbook between us. She is loose and glowing and so fucking beautiful I’m aroused at just the sight of her, my body responding before my brain gets a vote.

I force my eyes away before she catches me staring at her chest.

“Bro,” Drew says. “The girls here are unreal.” He nods appreciatively looking around the party.

“Yeah.”

“Like. Unreal.”

I catch the back of Drew’s neck and turn him toward me.

“Don’t drink too much, alright? And don’t do any drugs. I’ve heard there’s some stuff going around that’s laced, and I really don’t want to have to send you to an ER.” It’s true, if slightly hypocritical of me. Before I even left for LA, I used to enjoy partying a lot, when I was younger than Drew. But I fucked up a few times, and now I don’t touch any of that shit, except alcohol.

He rolls his eyes. “Bro, relax. I’m eighteen. I’m basically in college. And I’m at”—he hunts for the word—”a gathering. Plus, I’ve got the Fox name to ride on, which”—he gestures around the room—”judging by how many girls are currently looking at you, is going to do some heavy lifting tonight.” He’s right. There’s a few very hot girls in the corner giving me pretty clear fuck me eyes.

“You’re somehow cockier than me,” I comment.

“I learned from the best.” He grins. “I’m also younger, hotter, and have less baggage than you. Anyway, let’s go grab a drink.”

I roll my eyes. Somewhere in the shared genetics, Drew got handed a more concentrated dose of confidence than I did. Pretty fucking impressive given the dose I got.

Pink moves at the edge of my vision.