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Then I spot him. Through all of the faces. Through all of the questions. Through all of the cologne.
Kent, staring right at me.
His adorable, tortured eyes. His messy hair that looks like it’s been tugged on in all directions by greedy fingers. The sheen of sweat on the little peek he gives of his chest in that half-unbuttoned shirt. The pout of his lips, which are showing every bit of his jealousy right now.
I have to remind myself that he’s the one who pushed me away. He wanted this, didn’t he?
So why should I make it easy on him?
I peel my eyes away from Kent and decide to bask in the attention I’m getting. “Yep, I’m staying at the Elysian,” I answer one guy. “Nah, this is totally actually my natural hair, I didn’t do a thing to it,” I answer another. “Oh, these old nothing jeans? Yeah, I have, like, twenty pairs.”
Kent keeps staring. Good.
I keep going: “I’m as single as they come,” I answer a boy to my left. “Who? No, I don’t know who that is. I’m here by myself,” I answer a boy on my right. “I work out about zero to seven days a week, yep, whatever you want to hear,” I answer a boy in the middle.
The tension in Kent’s face is mounting. I can tell even from clear across the room, the way this is getting to him.
I’m probably loving this too much, huh?
“Nah, I’m not really interested in sex,” I tell some cute guy who probably asked something else, “but I can totally murder a great sci-fi/fantasy book right about now.” “Oh, definitely, my favorite snack is barbeque Doritos,” I say to another guy, whose confused expression tells me he most certainly did not just ask what my favorite snack is. Am I hungry? When’s the last time I ate? “My cock’s about two or three inches, yeah. Oh, did you mean when it’s hard? I have no idea. Is it normal for guys to measure their own penises? That’s actually a thing? I’ve literally never.”
Now Kent’s fists are balling up.
I know he can’t hear what I’m saying, but I kinda wish he could. It would make this whole thing so much more amusing. Poor Kent probably thinks with my newfound freedom, I’m making plans with every horny single boy from the north pier to the Quicksilver Strand. One big ol’ orgy on the roof of the Elysian. Can you imagine? Does the Elysian even have rooftop access?
Suddenly, I lose eye contact with Kent. I look around, confused. He’s gone.
Where did he go?
Am I overdoing this? Did I go too far?
Then, like a tidal wave, a new face pushes through the throbbing thicket of thirst.
Kent’s face.
And he’s one angry boy. “What’re you doing, Jonah?”
The other guys turn his way, startled by his sudden appearance. I imagine some of them know Kent, or at the very least his brother.
I lift my eyebrows innocently. “I’m making some new friends. What does it look like?”
“Stop this.”
He’s jealous. He’s angry. He’s steaming hot.
I kinda fucking love this side of him. Is that bad?
“I thought this is what you wanted,” I say. “All of these beautiful boys want to take me back to their hotel rooms and rooftop parties. Isn’t that amazing?”
One of the guys is already backing away. “Uh … I didn’t actually say I’d, uh …” Another pair of guys are looking at each other quizzically. “Yeah, I never actually invited you,” adds one of the guys to my right.
Okay, maybe I misread the room and presumed a lot. I don’t care. This was all about Kent, anyway. “Look, I’m just having some fun on my last night here,” I point out to Kent. “Just like you told me to.”
“This isn’t what I meant,” he growls back.
I shrug. “Isn’t it, though?”
“This …” His baffled eyes drink me in. “This isn’t you.”
“Of course it isn’t. Look at this hair,” I say, pointing at it in disbelief. “I mean, how am I expected to keep this up every day? What’s the point of a makeover if it only lasts one damned night? Seriously, what kind of ridiculous-ass standard of beauty are we expected to—”
Two of the guys have already lost interest, walking away. Another at my side lifts his hands. “Okay, I’m good, no thanks, nice hair, peace,” and off he goes.
Let’s be fair. Even if Kent wasn’t here vying for me like he is, this weird reaction was inevitable. I’m shit at guys and flirting.
“Are you done making your point?” asks Kent curtly. “I think you’re done.”
“Am I?” I ask coyly.
My crowd of admirers has diminished to literally just two guys thanks to this scene, by the way, and I’m pretty sure they’re only here out of sick curiosity to see where my thing with Kent goes.
