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The house is nowhere near as fancy as Linc’s or the twins’, but it is big. And when we step inside and follow the sound of shouts, laughter, and blaring music toward the back, we find a massive pool house attached to the mansion.
Whoever lives here obviously decided they’d rather spend their money on practical stuff than on decorative bells and whistles. Can’t say I blame them.
The pool is bigger than some of the outdoor ones I used to go to in Arizona, a fat rectangle that occupies the middle of the space. Floor to ceiling windows overlook the backyard on one side, and there are lounge chairs and tables set up on the tiled floor surrounding the pool. There’s an attached anteroom where we peel off our outwear and hang it on hooks, then we step back into the massive pool house.
The heavy thud of the bass seems even louder in the echoey room, and kids cluster in groups in the pool, swimming in the middle or clinging to the edges as they drink and gossip.
“Hey, what the fuck? Who invited Linwood?”
A guy who reminds me of Trent—broad-shouldered and a little oafish—steps into our path as we walk inside.
“We invited ourselves,” Linc says coolly, eyeing him with the same disdainful expression he usually wears when he looks at Trent. All four of the kings are athletic and muscular, but none of them seem to have a fondness for jocks. Not that I blame them, based on the ones I’ve met so far.
“What, got tired of banging the ugly chicks that show up at Linwood parties?”
The guy laughs at his own stupid joke, and I resist the urge to step forward and shove him backward into the pool. We need keep our heads down, not go around starting fights.
Lincoln stiffens and clenches his hands, but he keeps his cool too. “Nope. Not interested in any of them.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
The guy scoffs, but his gaze shifts to me, and his eyes gleam with lecherous interest. Lincoln takes a step toward him as all three of the other boys tighten ranks around me, and the guy stumbles back in surprise. I don’t think he realized I was with one of these guys, let alone all of them, and their reaction has put him totally off balance. He glances from one to the other before finally backing down. His puffed-up chest deflates a little, and he huffs a breath.
“All right. Fine. Whatever. But don’t think you can just crash all our fucking parties.”
“Believe me, we don’t intend to,” Linc drawls, arching a brow as he glances around the room disdainfully, and I suppress a grin. I knew the dark-haired, hard-edged boy could be intimidating as fuck, but I never knew he could be so bitchy.
I kinda like it.
The guy wanders off, tail between his legs as he seems to realize he has no backup.
Although that could easily change.
I reach out and touch Linc’s elbow, drawing his attention. “We better hurry up so we can get out of here before he comes back with friends.”
“Yeah.” He nods toward the table laden with bottles and cups, where a large group has congregated. “Let’s go.”
We all turn to head in that direction. Dax and Chase’s nearly matching tattoos shift over the muscles of their back as they walk, sticking close to River protectively. No one here would know it, but I can tell that they’re keeping an eye out for him, making sure he doesn’t miss anything in this crowded environment.
I start to step after them, but before I can, Linc’s arms wrap around me from behind, his breath brushing my ear as his hands splay across the bare skin of my stomach.
“They call this a pool party,” he whispers with a chuckle. “But they have no fucking idea.”
A little ripple of desire and giddiness sweeps through me, and I turn in his arms to face him, tilting my head back to look into his eyes. He’s smiling, humor and heat reflecting in his amber eyes.
“Yeah,” I murmur, running my fingers over his back. “I liked ou
rs way better. There are only four people in the world I want to go swimming with.”
“Good.”
The word is a possessive growl, and he presses one hard, demanding kiss to my lips before reluctantly drawing back.
He slips his hand into mine, and we join the others at the drink table, grabbing cups and filling them before jumping into the pool. The water is warm and smells strongly of chlorine, and we gather near one edge, slicking our wet hair back as we scan the crowd around us. The pool is in the middle of the room, so from here, we have the best vantage point to comb through the crowd looking for any kind of floral tattoo.
That is, assuming Savannah wasn’t just lying to get me off her back. Maybe she sent us here hoping the guys would get jumped by a bunch of Waverly jocks.
At first, I don’t see anything in the throng of bodies. Just a bunch of kids I don’t know moving around the space, the girls flirting and laughing, the guys puffing up their chests. Normally, I love people-watching, trying to figure out what people’s hidden subtext is, what floats beneath the surface of their words but goes unsaid. What makes them tick.
