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“Yes. Strictly as a hobby, though. You shouldn’t mix business and pleasure.”
His eyes stay on me. I’ve never seen that look in them. I don’t know what to make of it.
“Okay, fine,” I say after another second of tolerating that intense look. “You’re pretty. You’re not in crushing debt. You have a big dick. What’s the money for? Why do you need it?”
He straightens up and saunters over. He leans in, mouth close to my ear, his breath fanning over the shell. Like he’s about to tell me a secret.
His voice is a low rumble that settles underneath my skin and reverberates like an aftershock.
“I’ll never tell.”
I compose myself enough to glare at him, but he just laughs.
His eyes are still on me, and they only move away when half the party suddenly pours into the room.
“You guys done with your game? We need the table,” Eric calls out.
I drop my cue down on the table. “Have at it.”
They have the pool table transformed for a beer pong match in another five minutes. For a while I watch people play while covertly eyeing Ryker, who’s now in the middle of a conversation with Sawyer and some girl I don’t know. She seems to like what she sees based on how she gets closer and closer to Ryker with every sentence they exchange, until the two of them are pretty much glued together, side to side.
She’s pretty. Long legs. Long, dark brown hair. A flirty smile. Manicured fingers on Ryker’s forearm.
Well, why the fuck not. More power to them.
I wander upstairs to get another drink before I go back down. It’s gotten even louder as the game has progressed.
Rachel’s sitting in Sawyer’s lap now, and I go and sit down next to the two of them, lean my head back against the wall, and close my eyes.
“You look thoroughly done,” Rachel says. “Took you longer than I expected.”
I flip her off, and she laughs.
“Are you having fun, sweetie?”
Sawyer laughs, his chin on Rachel’s shoulder.
“Lost something?” Rachel continues, with the gleeful look of a shark who smells blood in the water on her face.
“My will to live.”
Rachel reaches out her hand and pinches my cheek. “Aww. What’s the matter, baby?”
I sigh and rub my palm over my face. “Nothing. Just being a pain in the ass. Ignore me.”
Sawyer jerks his chin toward the crowd. “What’s the deal with Ryker James?” he asks. “Since when do you two hang out?”
“We don’t,” I grumble. “He’s a jock.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Rachel combs her fingers through Sawyer’s hair.
“The average jock is an asshole,” I say.
She snorts. “Ryker James is, like, the least asshole person there is. He’s one of those people who, when you ask them what their dream is and they say world peace, you actually believe them.”
“You knew him in high school. People change,” I say.
“And?” Sawyer asks. “Is he an asshole now, then?”
