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MILA
It’s now midnight, and Dad text me to say he’s so sorry, but he’s still stuck there. I tell him it’s okay because I’m heading to bed. But how can I when there’s a party outside my window?
I peer out, trying to see if I can spot Grady. Going over to say hi would give me an excuse to be there, since Jace had decided to be an asshole and not invite me. But can I really blame him? I haven’t seen Hunter or Roman anywhere.
I’ve looked them up on social media, but Roman doesn’t have an account. Or, if he does, it’s super private. Hunter and Jace do.
Hunter looks good, like I wanna lick his abs kind of good. He was always cute, but now he has filled out, and the grown-up version of his wicked grin is more than a little enticing. Girls likely throw themselves at him with very little effort on his part.
Jace looks hot too, but after the cold welcome he gave me earlier, he isn’t as appealing. Hot assholes don’t do it for me. If they did, Malcolm Junior would make my knees weak, even though he’s my stepbrother. But, nope, he’s just an asshole.
The music grows louder. It’s as if they’re taunting me. Fuck this. Fuck Jace.
Throwing my sheet off, I roll out of bed. My bare feet hit the carpet, and I jump up and down on the spot, punching the air a few times. “Fuck Jace.”
I search my closet for something appropriate, since I don’t have everything here. Mom said she would ship the rest to me. Yeah, right. She would rather burn my belongings than let me have them.
I pull out my short jean shorts—they hug my ass in all the right places—and a deep purple V-neck tee that clings to my curves. I might not have grown taller in four years, but my boobs sure got bigger. I’m proud of what I’ve been blessed with. They are more than enough.
Yanking my hair tie out, I let my hair fall around my face in waves. I shake it out and get to work on my face. Dark mascara and smoky eyeshadow make my cobalt-blue eyes pop. I also look a little badass. Mom hates it. That’s probably why I love it so much. She’s not here to complain about my make-up choices anymore.
I shove my phone in my back pocket and skip down the stairs and out the front door. The air is still warm and feels nice as I round the hedge between our properties and make my way down Jace’s driveway.
“Holy shit. Mila? Mila Hart? No fucking way.” A circle of guys opens up, and one emerges with his arms wide open.
“Emerson Henty.” No way. Holy fuck. Something must be in the water here, because he was this skinny little kid who wore the thickest glasses I’d ever seen. Now he’s all grown up and looks so different from how I would have imagined. Like, talk about a glow up. Dang.
He laughs and nods, pulling me into a hug. He spins me around a couple times before putting me back on my feet. He smells so good, I can’t help but wonder what cologne he wears.
“Holy shit, when did you get back? Jace and the guys didn't say you were coming back. Are you, like, back for good?”
I laugh, shrug, and nod. “Yeah, I’m back for good. But Jace forgot my invite.”
He doesn’t question it. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and directs me over to his friends. “Hey, guys, this is Mila Hart. The most badass girl from my childhood. She kicked my ass in football practice every week when we were kids. She tackled my ass into the dirt so hard, I thought for sure I would break a bone.”
“Didn’t you play flag football?” one guy asks, and Emerson nods and chuckles.
He squeezes me tighter to him, the grin on his face contagious. I smile back, remembering that I’d done just that. It got me in trouble each week. He wasn't the only one I’d tackled. I’d tackled everyone. I might have had a problem back then.
“Yeah, but Mila didn't care. She went for the tackle, and if she hadn’t, I don't think I would be as good as I am now. Forced me to learn how to keep my balance.”
I laugh and put my hand on his chest, patting his very hard pec as I glance up at him. “Someone needed to kick your ass. I was honored to be the one to do it.”
We talk for a bit, and I learn he’s on the football team with Jace, Hunter, and Roman. That doesn’t surprise me, but what does surprise me is that Jace is their quarterback. That’s news to me. I didn't internet stalk him enough before I came over here. But this is better, getting information from a close source.
“Oh, hey, they’re inside if you want to go say hi.”
I nod with a wicked grin. “Yeah, I should say hi. It would be rude not to.”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Come on, girl, I got your back.”
I let him lead me inside the house, the music softens once I close the door behind me. It’s easier to talk in here.
I make my way through to the living room, stopping short when I catch sight of all three guys. Roman sits quietly, a beer in his hand as his eyes roam between Hunter and Jace. He looks the same, but older. Same dirty blond hair, except now I know that’s the color and not because it’s actually dirty.
Hunter has a dark-haired girl on his lap. She’s giggling and touching his chest, and he pulls her close, kissing her. I feel a small stab of jealousy, even though it’s illogical. I can't be jealous of my old friend hooking up. I’d known this would happen one day, but it should have been something I adapted to over time. Having it thrust into my face so quickly is jarring. But it’s Jace that holds my attention.
Britney fucking Montlake.
