Before the entire sentence can escape my mouth, my glasses are knocked off my face, my jeans become the weight of concrete, and my nipples turn rigid. They are so firm, they could cut through diamonds. My screams of protest trap in my throat when the sub-zero water steals my ability to breathe. Even peering through the blur of rippling water, I can’t miss the smug look smeared on Hugo’s face as he stares at me under the water. Fuming with anger, I kick him in the shins before swimming to the surface. Numerous mumbled curse words escape my lips as I attempt to flop my body over the edge of the pool. I grit my teeth when Hugo exits the pool with ease. The heaviness of my soaked jeans and sweater double my weight, impeding my efforts. Through gritted teeth, I accept the hand Hugo offers. He adeptly pulls me out of the pool before gathering me in close to his chest. I place my palms on his drenched pecs and push away from him. The sloshing of water in my boots sounds over the pulse ringing in my ears.
“Why did you do that?!” I squeal, glaring at his smug face.
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, strengthening his pose. “You were told not to accept drinks from anyone but Chase or me. You didn’t listen.”
“It was a bottle of beer!” I yell.
“I don’t care if it was a can of diet Pepsi, you don’t accept drinks from men you don’t know.”
I glare at him while pulling off my black boots. His lips twitch, battling to hold in a smile when the contents of my boots create a puddle of water around his feet. Even being overheated with furious anger, a shiver runs the length of my spine when a dash of cool air pelts my drenched chest. A puff of air whizzes from Hugo’s simpering mouth when I thrust my boots into his chest.
“I’ll have you know, Rhys isn’t a stranger,” I inform him, pulling my limp sweater over my head. “He and I gowayback.”
I grunt when the soaked material clings to my arms. The smile tugging Hugo’s lips vanishes and a set of hard-edged lips ruefully take its place. I snarl at him while dumping my drenched sweater on top of my boots.
“Rhys used to tutor me,” I enlighten him, undoing the button on the fly of my jeans.
“Ava.”
“In French,” I add on, noticing the conceited smirk on Hugo’s face. “Allthings French. It is the language of love and many other things.”
I overemphasize my brash statement, loving that my jibe is creating a quiver in Hugo’s jaw.
“Ava,” Hugo growls.
“It was the most fun I’ve ever had studying.”
“Ava.”
“Who knew being forced to learn a foreign language by my father would turn out to be such arivetingexperience?” I continue to taunt while shimmying out of my jeans plastered on my thighs.
I nearly lose my footing when the left cuff of my jeans gets stuck on my ankle. Lifting my leg high into the air, I yank the rigid material off with one clean swoop.It’s lucky I don’t wear skin-tight jeans, or I would’ve never been able to remove them.After thrusting my jeans into Hugo’s heaving chest, I grasp the hem of my white cami.
“Ava!” Hugo rumbles again.
“What?!” I yell, exasperatingly throwing my arms into the air.Is that the only word he knows today?
His livid eyes glare into mine. “You’re stripping naked in front of half of the school population.”
I freeze. “What?” I manage to squeak out before the reality of the situation crashes into me full pelt.
I swallow the rock in my throat before filtering my heavily dilated eyes around the dead quiet space. The walloping of my heat increases when I spot numerous party attendees staring at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. My anger at being dumped in the pool had made me lose sight of the bigger picture. My eyes shoot from the abundance of partygoers to my barely covered body. My horror increases when I notice my drenched cami is failing to conceal my homely black bra and red striped G-string bikini bottoms. Tears burn my eyes as I lift my gaze back to Hugo. The expression on his face is no longer laced with amusement. It is full to the brim with remorse and silent apologies. I yank my clothing out of his grasp and rush towards the house.
Cat calls, wolf whistles, and sexual propositions thud through my ears as I run through the gauntlet of partygoers gawking at me like I'm the night’s free entertainment. I hold my sweater against my chest, futilely trying to maintain a small shred of modesty as I bolt up the roped-off stairwell. The first splash of tears hits my cheeks when I slam Jorgie’s bedroom door shut and slide down it. The clanking of my backside hitting the blue carpeted floor swamps the sob that tears from my throat. After dumping my drenched clothes to the side of Jorgie’s disheveled room, I wrap my arms around my legs and burrow my tear-stained face into my knees, hiding from the world. This is the exact reason why I avoid these types of functions. I’m awkward enough as it is, let alone trying to mingle with strangers.
My head lifts from resting on my knees when, “Ava, let me in,” comes barreling through the door only minutes later by a voice I immediately recognize.
I freeze and attempt to lessen my sobs, not wanting Hugo to witness my immature tears.
“Come on, open up, I know you’re in there,” he whispers through the crack of the door. “I can hear you crying.” His voice lowers when he strangles out the last word.
I calm my deep breathing and snap my mouth shut, trying to mask my tears. The smallest whimper still escapes my lips. The sound of the locked door handle being twisted rattles over the thumping of my heart.
“If you don’t open the door, Ava, I’m going to kick it in,” Hugo warns.
“The only thing that needs kicking is my backside for trying to be sexy by wearing a stupid G-string,” I mumble.
I snuck the red and white striped G-string into the shopping cart last week when my mom and I went to Walmart. I concealed its bland cotton material amongst the red sweater my mom picked out. The cashier’s eyes lifted to mine when it tumbled out of the rumpled-up sweater and fell to her feet. Seeing my wide-eyed, panicked expression, she conspicuously gathered the scrap of material off the floor, scanned it and shoved it into the pocket of my one-size-too-large boyfriend jeans, leaving my mom none the wiser to my sneaky purchase. I mumbled my silent gratitude to the grinning cashier as I snagged the bags from the carousel and rushed out of the store. Although I never intended on anyone seeing it, it made me feel daring when I slipped the G-string up my freshly shaved legs tonight.
