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Why do so people drink?
This stuff tastes awful.
I force myself to swallow another mouthful of orange juice and vodka.
My throat burns.
My head spins.
I reach for something to hold onto. Find the white banister. It's a smooth, ornate, pure money.
This entire house is pure money. Pristine carpet. Glass tables. Three thousand dollar leather upholstery.
Six dollar Trader Joe's vodka.
The cheap booze ruins the aesthetic. It clashes with the sky lights, the sliding glass doors, the glowing aqua pool.
Not that anyone notices. My classmates are used to expensive furniture and two million dollar mansions.
But cheap vodka and an empty upstairs?
That thrills them.
I've heard enough rumors to know the drill. Rich kids. Nice house. Cheap booze. Parents out of town. I heard Dean fucked Judy…
Not that it's always Dean.
It's just those are the only rumors I pay attention to.
A giggle cuts through the big, white room. It bounces off the high ceilings. It bounces right into my ears.
There's Judy, all blonde hair and long limbs, standing at the table, running her red nails over Dean's forearm.
His smile lights up his blue eyes eyes. They're bright. Full of energy and life and lust for torturing me.
He raises a brow. Runs his strong hand through his shaggy dirty blond hair.
Shrugs his broad shoulders. Those are swimmer's shoulders. He has a swimmer's everything. I've seen him in a Speedo enough times to know—the guys practice a few lanes over.
He's more than a hot body too. He's handsome. Charming. Funny.
Evil.
My head knows better. My head despises the cocky playboy. For calling me sunshine. For taking nothing seriously. For throwing people away.
But my heart?
My body?
It's impossible to get over a guy you see shirtless five times a week. That's a scientific fact.
r /> He laughs at Judy's joke. Shoots her that trademarked Dean million dollar smile as he blows her a kiss.
She paws at his chest.
He shrugs maybe, maybe not.
