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Aiden Murphy.
He’s one hell of a sight with reddish-brown hair, mossy-green eyes, and muscles stretching the cotton of his black Kroydon University t-shirt. God, I’ve always loved his muscles. When we were in middle school, and most boys were twigs, Murphy was already developing a defined physique. Now, all these years later, he’s built like a Greek god with a face that belongs on a Nike ad. I hate the way my body reacts to the simple sight of him.
My defense mechanism has always been, and still is, sarcasm, which tends to come off bitchy. With the way my body reacts to Murphy, I always feel like I’m on the defensive around him. I don’t want him to know how I feel, so I end up acting like a bitch.
I hate it but have never been able to control it either.
Murphy has always had a starring role in my most vivid fantasies, and I’ve never told a soul—not even my best friend—because Aiden Murphy is a man whore. He wouldn’t know serious if it bit him in the ass, and I’m about as serious as you can get. Since I was a little girl, it’s been drilled into me that I have to be beyond reproach. There are always people looking to take down a politician, and they have no problem using families to get to them.
While I think it could be fun if Murphy bit me in the ass, I don’t doubt that he’d destroy my heart in the process.
He’s sitting by the fire, sandwiched on either side by Chloe and Bash.
Chloe and I have been best friends since we were little kids. She’s a year behind me in school. We met at soccer practice when we were five and six. A boy had knocked me down. And while I sat on my butt and cried, Chloe kicked him in his shin guard and told him it wasn’t nice to push girls. She didn’t stick with soccer for long, but she did stick with me, even when my parents pulled me out of the school we all went to and sent me to an all-girls Catholic school.
She’s my wild friend, always willing to try new things. The only rules she plays by are her own. She does her own thing, and she makes it look easy.
I wish I could be more like her.
Bash is sitting on the other side of Murphy. Tall, dark, and handsome may as well have been coined to describe Sebastian Beneventi. He’s tall, easily six-foot-five or -six, with dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes. His strong jaw and high cheekbones scream male model. Bash is leaner than Murphy but still looks like he could bench-press me. He’s the quiet one of this group, but he and I have always gotten along. We’re both overachievers on fast tracks through college. I’m pre-law, and Bash is pre-med.
Gotta love a guy with brains and brawn.
Chloe is the first to see me and jumps up for a hug like it’s been years since we’ve seen each other instead of two weeks. Her short purple hair swings as she moves. “Sabrina!” she squeals. “I’m so glad you came. I missed you.”
Pulling me down to sit next to her on the bench, Chloe starts filling me in on everything I’ve missed tonight. She’s talking a mile a minute, and I’m only halfway listening.
Murphy looks like he’s drinking whiskey straight from a bottle, and Bash stands up with an empty beer in his hand. He tips his beer bottle to me. “Looking good tonight, Sabrina. Where’d you come from?”
I cross my ankles, suddenly aware of the length of my dress when I’m sitting down. “Thanks. I was at one of the senator’s functions. It was mind-numbingly awful.”
“Pretty sure I’d rather be waterboarded.” Bash kicks Murphy’s leg. “How about you give me that bottle of Jack, man? I think you’ve had enough.”
Murphy grunts at Bash and takes another swig from the bottle, not bothering to look up. “Whatever, Murph. I don’t want to hear it when your head is fucking exploding tomorrow.” Tipping his imaginary cap at me and Chloe, Bash takes off.
Leaning in, Chloe stage whispers so Murphy and I can both hear her, “Do you see the pretty redhead over there?”
Looking across the yard, I see a group playing beer pong. There’s only one redhead in the bunch who could have caught my friend’s attention.
Chloe grabs my face and turns it back to her. “Don’t look right at her! I think I wanna go talk to her.”
Murphy is staring hard in our direction now as if we’ve personally wronged him in some way. “Go fuck her brains out, Chloe. It’s not like you can knock her up.”
Chloe flips Murphy off. Then turns back to me.
“Ignore him. I say go for it. The worst that can happen is she turns you down.”
“Wish me luck.” She practically hops up from the bench we’re sharing and bounces over to the other side of the yard.
Murphy watches Chloe with what looks like disgust on his face.
Glaring at him, I can’t hold my tongue. “You seem exceptionally grumpy tonight, Murph. Why don’t you have some poor, unsuspecting victim in your bed already?”
“What the fuck is your problem, Sabrina?” He sits up straighter and points his bottle at me. “I’ve never had a victim in my bed. They come willingly and leave satisfied.”
A vicious smile takes over his handsome face. “Why don’t you try to stop being high-and-mighty for once? You’re not in Catholic school anymore. We’re all sinners here. You should try it. It’s fun.”
One side of his mouth kicks up, transforming his face from mean to cocky before he continues, “Maybe if you do, you’ll finally be able to remove the good-girl stick from that fine little ass once and for all, Princess.”
“You know, Murph, at some point in your life, you’re going to have to grow up and be serious about something. Maybe when you do, you’ll stop being such a giant dick.” I stand to leave when his next words stop me in my tracks.
He places the bottle on the ground before patting his thigh. “You know, Princess, I’ve never had any complaints about my giant dick. Maybe if you stop being the perfect little girl, you can hop on and see for yourself.”
Refusing to look back, I storm off.
I just can’t keep my inner bitch quiet around this guy.
Shame...I wish I could take him for a ride.
