And no, I'm not exaggerating; they really do. There must be fifty people here at least, and over half of them areperfect girls.You know the type I mean: slim bodies and flawless good looks; they can eat anything and never gain weight. They don’t have a care in the world as they lean back, their slender legs dipping into the pool, their flat midriffs tanned and pierced with aqua gemstones and—okay, maybe that's just Mila.
Mila Harris.
God, I envy her so much.
Pretty doesn’t come close—her mother is Mexican, and her dad is an all-American blond—so she’s literally perfection with gorgeous skin that looks like the sun blessed her softly with a bronze glow that makes me want to throw up. She has emerald-colored eyes—I’m not kidding, they almost glow, they're so light against her skin.
Did I mention her skin?
Then her lips—god, those plump little fuckers put mine to shame. Add in a tiny button nose and cascading chocolate brown hair thatnevergoes frizzy, and you’ve got Mila Harris.
She’s looking at Devon now with amusement, her eyes tracking his gaze until they land on me. Then they narrow, her lips pursing in what looks a little—okay, a lot—like disgust.
My cheeks flame hotter,and I want to die.
Because not only does Mila look likethat, but so do her friends, the bitches who hang on her every word.
Bella, Astrid, and Shaina. Even their names exude beauty.
Imagine three carbon copies of one another: shimmering blonde hair with matching highlights, big blue eyes, and—you guessed it—gorgeous tans. They’re wearing matching bikinis today, I notice. Neon green, orange, and red.
“Jade!” Devon lifts himself from the pool, his forearms straining as he climbs out, water dripping onto the ground when he stands. “I’ll throw you in if I have to.”
Panic claws at my throat as I shake my head, backing away.
“Yeah, come in, Jade!” Mila calls out, exchanging sniggers with Astrid but looking innocent when Devon turns to her with a grin.
“Shall I throw her in?”
He won’t—because—he’s my best friend and he knows how insecure I am, but the glee on Mila’s face makes me dizzy.
She would love that, wouldn’t she?
“I don't have a suit on underneath,” I hiss at Devon, his hands on my hips as I try to be assertive. “Don’t.”
Devon steps closer, and my hands raise, close to his chest.
God, I can’t be this close to him when he’s all wet and…
He grabs me, and I scream. It’s not girly or at all feminine; I sound like an orc in terror, to be honest. Devon chuckles and lowers his mouth to my ear.
“I won’t. But I wish you would come in.”
I shiver as his breath teases the fine strands of my hair, my hand moving to push it behind my ear before I step back.
“With Miss Perfect and the gang?” I huff a laugh and wave him off. “Go play.”
Devon throws his head back and laughs. “Play? This is my eighteenth birthday, babe.”
Babe.
I try not to fantasize again, as I always do when he speaks to me like this.
“I know. Just, be with your fans.” I try to wave him off again, but he catches my hand, holding it in both of his as my eyeswiden.
What is he doing?!
“No one matters here but you,” he tells me, his eyes searching mine. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”
