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So.o. Many. People.
I don’t think there’s enough room for one more person on the makeshift dance floor. The farther I shove inside, the more I discover. I pass a couple practically having sex on the couch, three games of beer pong, and small groups of people drinking and milling around. I spot some sports equipment near the door and gently ease my bag to the floor, hoping it'll be safe enough there. It's doubtful anyone will be messing with the guys' stuff. Not if they want to walk out of here in one piece. Unpacked and looking less like a nerd, I squeeze into the crowd and hop up onto the bottom step at the far edge of the room to survey the crowd.
I recognize various members of the football team, basketball team, and soccer team, and just everyone I think I've ever seen on campus. Well, except Drew and Sebastian. At least not that I can see.
I spot Lee in the corner, pressing a blonde against the wall, their lips fused. Aries, the other of their little pack I haven't interacted with much, is in the kitchen, pressed between the thighs of a brunette sitting on the counter.
I could ask one of them where Drew or Sebastian are, but I don’t want to face either of them right now. Or better yet, do I want to listen to them lecture me on why I shouldn't be at this party in the first place? Like I’m a child who isn’t old enough to drink.
No. Tonight is for me.
I want to drink and dance. I want to have some fucking fun and forget how much of a shit show my life is. I shrug out of my coat and toss it onto a teetering pile of jackets and then stroll into the kitchen. I inspect the different liquor bottles on the counter, choosing vodka over gin.
Clutching the bottle to my chest, I creep deeper into the crowd, trying to blend in on the off chance that Drew or Sebastian do show up. Halfway through my walk, I bring the bottle of clear liquid to my lips and tip it back. The first sip burns across my tongue and down the back of my throat, pooling in my belly.
I don’t recall when I ate last, and the responsible thing to do would be to eat something before ingesting this much alcohol, but I didn’t see any food in the kitchen, just beverages, so I guess that means no dinner for me.
Some guy cuts me off, muttering an apology, and I turn and smile up at him. He's cute. When the man meets my eyes, he freezes, ducks his chin, and practically runs away from me. What the fuck?
I blink a few times and take another swig of the vodka.
Okay. Weird. But not the first time my messy bun or glasses have sent guys running. All I can do is shrug. It’s not like I need to add another guy into the mix and complicate things further, but there’s no harm in flirting a little, right?
Except there isn’t any flirting, not when every single guy I attempt to talk to or even look at looks away and runs to the other side of the room. It’s infuriating, and only pisses me off more with every attempt I make.
Whatever. I bet Drew warned all the guys away, telling them that if they even looked at me, he’d rip their eyeballs out of their sockets and feed them to their dog, or something just as psychotic. I bring the bottle to my lips and tip it back, taking a hefty gulp. With every drink the burn lessens.
Wading through the crowd, I people watch while continuing to take small sips of the vodka. I can feel the effects of the alcohol starting to kick in. My cheeks fill with warmth and rational thinking flies out the window. I’m halfway across the door when the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Immediately, I’m on alert. The room seems to hush as a blast of cold air cuts through the space, and everyone looks toward the front doors as if they’re waiting for their king to arrive.
Of course, Drew stands there, his dark gaze scanning the crowd.
Fucking great. Drew wasn’t skipping his own party, he just hadn’t arrived yet.
My night is ruined. My feet start moving all on their own as I plan to make a beeline to the kitchen where I thought I saw a back door leading outside. Then I pause. Sober Bel would vote to take her vodka and escape, but escaping doesn’t do anything.
I have just as much right to be here as he does. I watch him as he shifts through the crowd of people. They seem to move out of the way for him, parting to let him take up all the space he wants.
A god among mere mortals. That’s what he is. Who he thinks he is.
Keeping my eyes trained on him, I wait for him to notice me. It’ll happen. Any second now, the connection that tethers us will spark, and he’ll realize I’m here. He’ll scent me in the crowd like a fucking hunting dog. Slowly, so fucking slowly it’s almost painful, his eyes move over the crowd, and then bam.
His gaze collides with mine.
An electric jolt passes through my body, rippling under my skin. Just one damn look does that to me. Damn him. It’s pathetic the power he has over me. I hate myself for wanting more.
I love the way that only he can make me break for him, all before piecing me back together again. What I don’t love is having my heart broken. I give him my best glare and take another drink, watching as he cocks his head sideways. He studies me like I’m a rare species or something. I try to drag my gaze from his, but it’s impossible. We continue staring at each other, neither of us making a move to get closer to the other.
Something sinful, dark, and filthy coils low in my belly, my core clenching involuntarily as if it’s preparing itself for something I know nothing about. No. I grit my teeth. He doesn't get to ban everyone from even looking at me while he stands there, mocking me. Watching me. Controlling my body with nothing more than a flick of his eyes.
I spin on my feet and scan the people nearest me. There’s a guy braced near the counter talking to another guy who’s across from him on the other side.
He’s tall, with sandy brown hair, but since his back is to me, I have no idea what he looks like. It doesn’t matter. I walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder. He turns on the balls of his feet, and as soon as he’s facing me, I grab him by the lapels of his T-shirt and tug him down to my mouth. There’s no opportunity for a greeting or to look at each other.
There’s only our lips mashing against one another’s. The taste of beer and mint fills my mouth, and it’s not a bad combination. I wait for something to happen, for the spark to occur, for the butterflies to take flight in my stomach, for my body to awaken the same way it does when Drew touches or kisses me, but it doesn’t happen.
Nothing happens.
Not even when his hands snake around my waist to tuck me against his chest, cradling me closer. Nothing. No spark. His tongue dips into my mouth, tangling with mine. Deepening the kiss, I sink my fingers into his hair, and again, I wait for the zing.
