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Reed’s entire demeanor changes when he sees Ainsley. He goes from looking impossibly bored to ecstatic, just like that.
He gets off the couch and pulls Ainsley into a side hug. “Hey. When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago,” she says with hearts in her eyes.
Damn, this girl’s got it bad. I was so happy to hear Reed is going to man up and talk to Kingston about dating Ainsley. Hell, he might’ve done it already if the hardness to Kingston’s jaw is any indication. He may not like it, but the fact that he’s not trying to interfere right now is a good sign.
“Jazzy Jazz!” Bentley shouts. “Come sit on my lap and be my good luck charm. Davenport’s kicking my ass.”
“No amount of luck will prevent me from kicking your ass,” Kingston taunts.
Ainsley and Reed take a seat on the couch, so I decide to do the same. “No thanks. I’m fine right here.”
“You’re no fun, girl.” Bentley’s lips form into a pout. “Where’s your drink? You need to loosen up.”
I show him my water bottle. “Right here. No alcohol for this girl tonight.”
Bentley’s jaw drops. “What?! No, that just won’t do.”
“It’s true,” Ainsley says. “Neither one of us are drinking tonight.”
Reed takes a hit from his joint and holds it out to her. “You want some?”
Ainsley shrugs as she takes it from him. “Sure.” She wraps her lips around it and coughs after inhaling too much smoke. When I give her a look she says, “What?”
I eye the joint in her hand. “Didn’t we just say we’re not getting fucked up?”
“No, we said we weren’t drinking. Weed doesn’t get you fucked up like liquor does. And it’s totally natural.” She holds the J out to me. “You in?”
Oh, why the hell not? She’s right—I’ve never been unaware of what I was doing while smoking weed. True, it could be laced but I know Reed would never do that to Ainsley, especially with Kingston right here. There’s no harm in sharing the same blunt.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Bentley throws the controller down and squeezes next to me on the couch.
I pass Bentley the joint after taking a hit of my own.
Kingston grabs some paper and a grinder off the side table and starts rolling his own. I snort, not surprised in the least that he’s not willing to share with us. I hold my breath when his tongue peeks out to lick the paper. He’s well versed in the art of rolling, even taking the time to use a thin skewer to create a passageway for the smoke to travel so it burns evenly. I’ve never been a heavy smoker, but my ex works at a dispensary. He has an obsession with rolling perfect blunts and felt it was necessary to pass on the knowledge.
God, why does Kingston have to be so pretty to look at? He has that whole rich asshole thing down to a T, which doesn’t normally do it for me, but with him, it works. Tonight, he’s wearing dark jeans that are no doubt designer and a t-shirt that’s molded to his muscular chest so well, I’m sure it’s tailored to fit him perfectly. He must have had a haircut after school because the fade is cleaned up and the top is a bit shorter. He hasn’t said a word to me yet—he just watches me with those intense ever-changing eyes, like he’s waiting me out.
After a few passes, I’m rocking a nice high, sinking back into the plush couch. Ainsley and Reed have moved to a back corner of the room, engaged in their own private conversation. I smile when her melodious laughter rings out and continues uncontrollably. Oh yeah, girlfriend is definitely a lightweight. Kingston is still brooding, staring me down from his chair. I refuse to acknowledge this little game of chicken we have going on, so I focus on chatting with Bentley instead.
I’m so relaxed, I don’t even think to move Bentley’s hand when it lands on my thigh.
“I like what you’ve got on here, Jazzy Jazz.” I shiver when his deep voice rumbles in my ear as his fingers begin to climb. “It’s understated, but sexy as fuck. You don’t even need to try and you have the attention of practically every guy in this house.”
I’m wearing a black tank, black ripped skinny jeans, and matching Chucks. Silver bangles circle each of my wrists, but that’s the only accessory I have on. I didn’t even bother doing something special with my hair or makeup—I’m sporting a high ponytail with just a little eyeliner and pink lip gloss. I figured I wasn’t coming here to impress anyone. I’m here to support my friend and get out of that suffocating mansion.
“Not every guy.” I snort. “Broody McGrumperson hasn’t said a word to me.”
Bentley runs the bridge of his nose along the nape of my neck. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have his attention. I’d bet my Porsche he’s staring at us right now, looking a tad homicidal.”
He’s speaking directly into my ear and the music’s turned up, so there’s no way Kingston heard him. I hate myself for needing to know, but I have to look. When my eyes find his, sure enough, Kingston’s doing exactly what Bentley had predicted.
My eyes roll back when Bentley presses his lips against my skin. “Shit, that feels good.”
I’m definitely aware of my actions, but Mary Jane always makes me horny because I’m hyperaware of every little touch. Damn it, why didn’t I think of that before I smoked?
Bentley smiles against the crook of my neck before taking my flesh between his teeth and biting down gently. I’m fairly certain a moan just escaped my lips. The hand that was on my thigh is now pressed against my cheek, turning me inward.
