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“Right,” he drawls. “Whatever you tell yourself so you can sleep at night.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap. This guy is getting on my damn nerves.
“It means you want to dip your pen in that inkwell, but just don’t want to admit it.”
I snort because he’s so off base, it’s comical.
I might find Brynn attractive. And okay, lately, I’ve had some . . . less than friendly thoughts about her. But I would never.
Hell, Teagan would kill me if I even thought about it.
But it’s clear I’m getting nowhere with this conversation.
“You can deflect all you want, but it doesn’t change what you’re doing, and it’s not going to stop me from letting her know about it,” I say.
“She hates you, so she’ll ignore it because she thinks you’re just trying to sabotage her. A notion I’m inclined to agree with.” He grins. “Don’t worry, though, when she comes to me to vent about it, I’ll make sure I’mveryreassuring.”
I inhale through my nose, my nostrils flaring as I try to get a rein on my anger. This guy is an even bigger prick than I originally thought, which is saying a lot because I hated him the moment I saw him talking to Brynn. He must be one hell of anactor to have her fooled, but whatever she sees in him, I’ll be sure to squash it.
I know Stanley’s trying to goad me. Just like I know when to take a step back, so I raise my hands in surrender, satisfied at the slight frown pulling at his lips. “Whatever, man. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”
Turning, I head back to Chris and Damon, my limbs vibrating with restraint as I angle myself so I can keep tabs on him. Stanley swipes at a plastic cup on a table in front of him, upending the others and sloshing beer all over the place. Clearly, he’s unhappy with our exchange, which suits me just fine.
“How’d that go?” Chris asks, arching a brow.
“Went well,” I say, my tone smug. “He tried to get the upper hand, but clearly he doesn’t know who he’s talking to.”
“Clearly,” Damon says, then offers me a beer.
We tap our cups together then take a drink, but I can still feel the remnants of adrenaline from the confrontation with Stan swirling in my veins. All this pent-up anger isn’t good for me. I need an escape, but my plans of finding a girl to take back to my apartment seem to have gone up in smoke. I can’t focus. I’m antsy and irritable.
Across from me a cute chick catches my eye, but I quickly shift my gaze.
Even if I tried to get lost in someone, I’m not sure I could. I’m too distracted, and though I came to this party with the intention of forgetting about Brynn, it seems to have had the opposite effect. She’s not even here, yet somehow, she’s stolen the spotlight on my evening yet again. If this is an indication of how my first year at AU is going to go, it’ll be the longest year of my life. I might as well be a fucking martyr. Maybe I should join the priesthood or maybe instead of finding a chick, I should just get wasted.
Because it sounds like as good a plan as any, I tip my cup back and chug the rest of my beer, then turn around and accept another from the kid manning the keg, and take a sip of the hoppy liquid.
“So, what’s the deal, bro?” Chris tips his head and I follow the direction of his gaze to find Stanley, surrounded by a few of his frat brothers. “At first, I thought you were just totally overreacting with Brynn at that club, but he really does seem—”
“Like an asshole? Yeah. Never liked him, but he certainly has Brynn fooled.”
Chris shoots me a knowing look. “And what exactly are you planning to do about it?”
I shrug. “Tell Brynn the truth. I’m sure she won’t shed any tears over it. You’ve seen her. She’s way too good for him.”
“She’s hot, I’ll give her that.” When I narrow my eyes at him, he chuckles. “Down, Cujo.”
A burst of laughter comes from behind us. I turn and glare in the direction of Stanley and his friends lounging by the fire pit. Everything about his presence pisses me the hell off, which makes him damn hard to ignore when his voice carries like he’s using a freaking megaphone. The kid is getting on my last nerve.
I tip my beer back and take another healthy swallow, when their conversation drifts toward me. “Whatever happened to that other chick you were talking to?”
“Brynn?” Stanley answers.
My grip tightens on the cup in my hand as Chris shoots me a warning with his eyes which I answer with a tight smile. I take another drink as Stanley continues, “We’re still on,” he says. “I’m supposed to take her out tomorrow, actually.”
I scoff. “Not if I have anything to do with it,” I mutter.
“Damn, she’s fine,” his friend says.
