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“Hey,” I say, breathlessly closing the door behind me.
Gunner runs a hand through his luscious blonde hair. He licks his lips, eyes trailing over my cropped Doors band T-shirt and high waisted jeans. I’m sure everyone else will be wearing something skimpy with heels, but I don’t feel comfortable showing my body off to the world. There’s nothing wrong with dressing like that, it’s just not my style.
“You look gorgeous.” Gunner steps closer, pulling me by the waist into him.
One of his big hands curls around the back of my neck and he crashes his lips against mine. He slides his tongue into my mouth, devouring me. This kiss is nothing like the slow sweet one we had in the cafeteria. This one is hungry, drenched in expectations and ultimately disappointment. I had hoped this afternoon's embrace was a fluke and that I would feel something more with the next, but all I feel is my heart steadily beating in my chest. Not even an inkling of a flutter in my stomach.
I exhale when we break apart and Gunner smirks. “I feel it too.”
I smile up at him, too guilty to say that was an exhale of disappointment and not a breath of wow. Maybe all I need is time, but the way Logan said playmate this afternoon makes me a little nervous. I can’t help but wonder how many girls Gunner has been with and how long they stick around for. “Listen, Gunner, I need us to take things slow.”
“I figured you weren’t like the rest,” he purrs, tucking my wayward strands behind my ears. “Why do you think I waited so long to kiss you?”
Three days isn’t a long time, especially when you’ve just met. But arguing my opinion is pointless. As long as Gunner understands what slow means, we’ll be fine.
Gunner drapes his arm over my shoulder and opens the door for me when we reach his car. Logan is wrong. Gunner is sweet, understanding, and patient. He’s the kind of guy I need to be dating, not the broken ones with issues who never understand why I’m not ready to give my V-card to them.
Gunner drives with our fingers intertwined over the gearshift as he speeds down the highway. I’ve never been in a car so expensive in my life, or so fast. By the time we pull up to tonight’s party, my stomach is in my throat from the ride. I relish the ten seconds it takes for him to walk around the car and open my door, using that time to settle my nerves.
Even though the night is young, only nine-thirty, the driveway and grass parking at this house is already full. Gunner opens the front door, not bothering to knock because it’s unlikely anyone would have heard it anyway. He guides us straight to the patio where the keg is and pours me a drink. I take a small sip, nodding in approval as he downs his first cup.
One of Gunner’s football buddies grabs his attention. They start talking about next week's game for what feels like forever. Growing up, the only time sports was on our television was when it was Super Bowl Sunday, and even then we only watched the commercials. We were never football people.
That changed for me halfway through the sixth grade. What started as me wanting to show Logan he had a friend, turned into a weekly routine I looked forward to: Football then milkshakes.
Listening to football lingo, on the other hand, is mind numbing. Unable to stand another minute of their jargon, I leave the back patio. Gunner’s so into the conversation, he doesn’t even notice. I stumble upon the kitchen and dump the beer in my cup down the sink.
Logan strolls in, a busty brunette by his side a few seconds after me. I hate the girl without even knowing her because she has his attention. And I hate myself for wanting that attention. He leans against the counter, pulling the girl into a kiss meant only for the privacy of a bedroom. His eyes snap open, gaze locking on mine as I shamelessly watch.
I lean against the counter and cross my arms, wanting to seem unfazed by Logan’s make-out session. His dark gaze finally breaks from mine as he whispers something in the girl’s ear. She nods and walks out of the kitchen, but not before he smacks her ass.
I shake my head, pretending to be put off by the extra show of PDA when really my body is humming. “You're disgusting.”
Logan ambles to the fridge and grabs a can of soda. He dumps half of it down the sink then fills the remainder of the can with something from a flask. “You’re just jealous.”
“Not even.” I push off the counter and stand beside him. Even with two black eyes, Logan looks amazing; but I’ll never tell him. His ego is larger than Harry Styles' and I have no desire to feed it. “You know, I’ve never seen you do anything besides make-out with a girl.”
He chuckles, smirking against his drink. “Sorry if I don’t make it a point to entertain you, but what I do behind closed doors is my business.”
“Do you even take anybody behind closed doors? Seems like you’re more than happy to put on a show for anyone who will watch.”
“Why do you care so much?”
Because I’m jealous and hate that I want to be one of those girls. “I don’t care. I just think your reputation is nothing more than smoke and mirrors.”
“Would watching appease you?”
I shrug, calling Logan’s bluff. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Fine.” Logan grabs my arm. “Let’s go.”
My pulse races as Logan drags me out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the living room. What have I gotten myself into? He whistles and damn near every girl in the room looks our way. Logan points at a blonde from my math class and wiggles his finger for her to follow us into the bathroom. He shoves me in first, then holds the door for his new plaything.
I cross my arms and glare. The thought of this girl satisfying him in a way I can’t twists my insides. I don’t like it. “Do you even know this chick’s name?”
He looks at her and raises an eyebrow.
“Emily,” she says, her voice dripping with lust.
