My plan for the remainder of this evening consists of staying inconspicuously tucked away in the back corner and sipping my tepid diet soda because being a girl and walking around a drunken fraternity party is apparently an unofficial invitation to have your ass groped by some random dude. Or should I say random dudes because this has now happened twice. And a third time will very likely push me right over the edge of my douchebag tolerance limit for the evening.
The objective tonight is to keep an eye on Brooklyn and when the clock strikes twelve, drag her ass out of here… and I’m totally okay if it’s kicking and screaming. Impatiently I glance at my cell phone for probably the twentieth time in the last two hours.
It’s only eleven.
This has officially become painful.
I’m unfortunately snapped out of my dark thoughts on just how I will torture Brooklyn when a stray hand slides its way across my jean covered butt.
Seriously?
Even though I try to control it, my heartbeat hitches for just a moment before I spin around with tightened fists, ready to knock some unsuspecting jerk senseless.
“Excuse me,” I all but snarl through tightly clenched teeth, “get your damn hand off my ass before I break every single bone in your fingers!” And contrary to what you might think, it’s not an idle threat. I’ll do it. As I turn, my eyes slam into probably the widest, burliest chest I’ve ever had the sad misfortune to inspect this up close and personal.
A sigh of disgust leaves my downturned lips before I can rein it back in.
Perfect.
Very slowly I crane my neck up, up, up until I’m finally able to glare into his eyes. The freakishly large oaf now standing in front of me has the audacity to smile lazily, his gaze happily blurred. “Hey sexy, want to dance?”
The guy barely looks able to stand up straight let alone move his gargantuan body out on the dance floor. If he goes down, it’ll be like a massive tree falling. And I don’t even want to think about the huge mark he’ll inevitably leave on his potential dance victim.
My brows draw together in aggravation before I quickly shake my head. “No, I don’t want to dance. What I’d actually like is for you to remove your hand from my ass.”
Because, believe it or not, it’s still there.
He actually has the nerve to widen his grin before squeezing my butt cheek in that massive paw of his. My eyes flare wide with shock and I think steam pours out of my ears.
Oh hell no- that did not just happen.
Wiping the disgust from my face, I give him my best come hither smile. Just because I never use these kinds of tactics doesn’t mean I don’t know how. His already dilated eyes widen like he’s just hit the jackpot. Stepping a bit closer to the big knuckle dragging Neanderthal, I crook my finger kind of all sexy-like until he bends down. When our lips are close enough to touch, I drag my mouth to his ear. Then, before I can utter a single word, I clamp my fingers around his balls (which are, in case you’re wondering, oversized just like the rest of him) in what I seriously hope is a death grip. Just for good measure, I give them a little twist. He hisses out a breath in response.
Now that I have his undivided attention, I growl, “If you don’t get your damn hand off my ass immediately, I will continue squeezing until something pops. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” he squeaks, sounding almost faint.
Not a second later, he releases my offended butt cheek.
And I, in return, release his still intact nuts. But not before I tighten my fingers one last time to drive home the gravity of the predicament this moron now finds himself in. For about ten seconds we glare at each other before he carefully backs away from me and my nut clenching fingers. As he does, his face gets all sad and mopey like I’ve done something wrong which is seriously laughable.
Frankly, I’m still pissed as hell.
“You’re not a very nice girl,” he mutters like a cross child before taking a huge gulp of what I assume to be beer from a big red plastic cup.
Rather unattractively I snort in response. “Nope. But hopefully you’ve learned a valuable lesson regarding the pitfalls of grabbing some unsuspecting girl’s ass.” Although, gaging from his unapologetic stance towards me, my guess is that he has not taken this lesson to heart. On second thought- “Just refrain from grabbing any girl’s ass. Contrary to what you apparently think- we don’t like it. At all.”
“Some girls do,” he pipes up still sporting an intense frowny face which is probably supposed to make me feel bad. It doesn’t.
Eyes narrowing, I shake my head. “No, we don’t. It’s degrading and just plain rude.”
He smirks before sneering, “No one’s ever complained before.”
Not only do I find that comment completely dubious but I can almost feel my blood pressure sky rocketing. Yep, Brooklyn is definitely a dead woman because this party has moved beyond painful to full out tortuous. “What’s your name?”
“Alex Mc-”
I hold up my hand effectively cutting him off. “That’s enough.” For just a moment, my eyes fly around the general vicinity we’re standing in. Luckily, as packed as this massive party is, it doesn’t take long to find exactly what I’m looking for. “Excuse me,” I shout over the pulsating music at a pretty girl walking past us. With a smile gracing her lips, she turns. The high wattage smile slips from her face once she realizes that she doesn’t know who the hell either one of us are.
Before she’s able to make a hasty get away, I quickly launch into my spiel. “Hi, what’s your name?”
Her gaze, which is slightly blurry as well (jeez, are there seriously no sober people at this party?), quickly bounces between Alex and myself. I can tell she’s hesitant to give me any information.
“Stacy.”
I give her my most reassuring smile. “Hi, Stacy, I’m Cassidy and this is,” I point to the obnoxious buffoon standing next to me, “Alex. We’re having a little disagreement that we need settled. Would you mind weighing in on the matter?”
With Stacy still looking uncertain, I barrel on. “My friend here thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to walk around a party grabbing the butts of girls he doesn’t know. And furthermore, he’s under the impression that we enjoy it. I’m just wondering if you might have any thoughts on the matter.”
Stacy no longer looks hesitant or uncertain as her heated gaze swings back to Alex. Then, in a big sweeping gesture, she jerks her hands out in front of her. “What makes you think any girl would enjoy being touched by some random dude she doesn’t even know?”
Alex opens his mouth as if he might actually have a rebuttal in mind, but Stacy has other ideas. Like screeching at him in a very high, potentially eardrum shattering voice. “Where do you get off thinking you can grope a girl simply because you’re drunk at a party? Is there something seriously wrong with you? Do you have any concept that we’re living in the twenty-first century?”
Alex snaps his mouth shut and even though it’s fairly difficult, I do my best to suppress the smile that is desperately trying to spread its way across my face as she continues to berate him.
“That’s called sexual harassment, buddy.” Her hands fly to her hips as she continues glaring. “Do you know that I could call the police and have you ticketed? Or even arrested!”
Okay, I’m not exactly sure if that’s true but I’m just going to roll with it.
As if finally realizing that this teeny tiny chick is going to go completely bat shit crazy all over his dumb ass, Alex’s wide brown eyes shift helplessly to mine as Stacy pokes a slender finger at his massive, wall-like chest.
He kind of looks like he might want me to intervene on his behalf. I almost laugh because that is so not going to happen. I’m viewing this whole thing as a teachable moment. I only hope that Alex is teachable. Although, in all honesty, the jury is still out on that one… because from what I’ve seen tonight regarding Alex, my guess is probably not.
“How would you like it if some chick you didn’t e
ven know started groping you at a club or party?” Her eyes flash with hostility. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she actually started foaming at the mouth. My guess is that Stacy has been manhandled one too many times before.
Hopefully Alex isn’t stupid enough to answer that question.
“I’d be totally down with it.” For the first time in five minutes, he actually smirks.
Stacy’s mouth drops open as her eyes flare wide. A moment later, her hand shoots out. I’m half afraid she’s going to bitch slap Alex right into next week when she grabs a girl walking past us and yanks her over. The girl, wearing a pair of four inch super skinny heels, stumbles just a bit before recovering her balance. I have to give her some major props for remaining upright on that one. Not always easy to do in sky high skinny heels.
“Ally, this guy,” she waves her hand in Alex’s direction as if that term is debatable, “thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to grab a girl’s butt at a party.”
If the sudden frown is any indication, then Ally is none too pleased by this information either. One of her hands instantly settles on her hip as her lip curls in disgust. “Why do guys always think that’s okay to do?” Even though this is posed as a question, I’m thinking it’s more rhetorical in nature. “I am so damn sick and tired of that shit!”
Not saying a word, I merely shake my head before shrugging my shoulders. Alex’s gaze shifts with even more unease between the two fuming girls who are all up in his face.
“Ahhh-”
He never gets a chance to finish that thought (I’m being overly generous with that assertion) before both Stacy and Ally steamroll right over him. “It is definitely not okay! You can’t just walk around touching women inappropriately!”
“Ahhh-” Alex’s mouth gapes open like a fish out of water. You can actually see the moment he finally grasps the severity of his current predicament.
“What’s going on over here?”
A tall brunette shoves her way into the tight circle before glancing around at the four of us.
“Oh, hey, Ashley. Can you believe this jerk thinks it’s okay to sexually harass woman?”
Now Ashley’s brows are lowering as her eyes arrow straight to Alex. “No one in this day and age could possibly think that it’s okay to touch a woman without asking first.”
She waits for Alex to clear his good name. Unfortunately Alex merely stares at her… looking fairly perplexed and a little surprised that he is now the object of three hot girls’ interest.
Of course that interest isn’t exactly the kind he’s been trolling for this evening.
Alex suddenly takes a hasty step backwards as all three girls crowd into his personal space. Every single one of them talking or shouting at the same time. Since Alex will be tied up for the foreseeable future, I decide my work is done here and take off in search of Brooklyn. I’m more than ready to go home before any more of these drunken louts decide that party time ass grabbing is a legitimate sport.
I’m no more than ten steps away from Alex and his irate entourage, who are currently, by the volume of their collective voices, giving him a major ass chewing, when I hear a male voice right at my ear. “I saw what you did back there.”
Since I’ve filled my quota for inane conversations this evening, I ignore him and keep pushing my way through the thick press of bodies. I’m tired, a little bit cranky, and more than ready to take off. If I have to drag Brooklyn out of here, I’m more than willing to do it. And I certainly don’t have the wherewithal, not to mention the patience, to deal with anymore hammered, frat boy-asshole-types tonight. Alex squandered the very last of it.
Not bothering to turn, I throw the words haphazardly over my shoulder as I continue weaving my way around clumps of drunken college coeds. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.”
I can all but hear the laughter simmering in his rich deep voice. Realizing this guy isn’t going to leave me alone, I decide the best course of action is to stop and politely let him know that I’m not interested in anything he might be offering up for the evening. Feeling exasperated to be held up when all I want to do is find Brooklyn and leave this out-of-control party, I wheel around towards the voice at my ear. As my eyes land on his face, I literally suck in a great big breath of air before almost choking on it.
Chapter Two
Even though it’s totally unlike me, I can’t help but stare. And when I say stare, I actually mean full on checking him out. It’s so embarrassing. But honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as the guy standing before me.
Okay, so maybe beautiful is the wrong word. I don’t think guys really like being referred to as beautiful but there just isn’t any other word to adequately describe him.
He’s completely beautiful.
I kind of want to stand here and stare at him for the rest of the night.
But I won’t because in my somewhat limited experience, beautiful guys are, more often than not, egotistical douchebags. And even though I’m only nineteen, I’ve already had my fill of those.
So thanks… but no thanks.
That being said, my fingers almost itch to slide their way through all that messy chocolate colored hair. And don’t even get me started on those golden brown eyes of his. Yep, totally dreamy.
Er… if I were a dreamy sort of girl, that is.
Which, trust me, I’m not.
He’s almost as tall as Alex but not quite as broad in the shoulders. Athletic looking with long lean muscles that are showcased rather amazingly in jeans and a simple dark t-shirt that hugs his chest and upper arms quite nicely.
And damn if that isn’t my very own personal kryptonite.
Yeah, this guy is way too nice looking for his own good.
Mine too.
I almost have to shake myself out of the stupor that has fallen over me because I’m definitely not in the market for a boyfriend or a random hook up or even a friends-with-benefits situation.
I want absolutely nothing to do with guys period.
End of story.
Then he goes and smiles this smooth slow grin that spills its way dangerously across his striking face. Aw, crap. The kicker is a pair of perfectly placed dimples that wink at me.
No doubt about it- definitely kryptonite material.
It’s almost laughable the way my heart starts hammering under my breast as I continue staring. I’m not really the kind of girl who is susceptible to male eye candy. No matter how beautifully packaged. So, whatever he wants, I’ll be passing on. Now, if there just so happens to be a tiny pang of regret sliding its way through me at the notion of walking away, I shut it down right quick before I can make any more disastrous decisions. Because, trust me, I’ve already made more than my fair share of them.
“Nope, sorry.” After the calamity of last year, I’m only beginning to find my bearings. Self-preservation is now the name of the game. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Unfortunately he isn’t so easily deterred. I almost sigh. The good looking ones never are. “So what did Alex do to deserve being chewed out by a pack of angry women?”
Without bothering to answer, because that’s exactly how one gets sucked into these conversations, I turn away feeling a sudden need to escape surge its way through me. Pushing and shoving with a little more impatience, I search for Brooklyn’s blonde head in the crowd.
Even though I’m desperate to leave, I won’t abandon Brooklyn. We agreed early on to always use the buddy system when we went out at night which is partly how I got wrangled into this mess in the first place. And if I’m not being forced to join her for a night of heavy drinking and possible hook ups, I usually make sure she’s with someone who won’t flake out at two in the morning and leave her stranded at some off campus fraternity party.
Because bad things happen to girls who think there is safety in a party of one.
I’m hoping if I ignore Mr. Beautiful long enough, he’ll simply go
away. That’s usually my go-to weapon of defense. And most of the time, it’s effective.
“Hey, are you going to answer me?” Again his voice is rather distractingly right at my ear. I can practically feel his warm breath slipping over my flesh. Little shivers of pleasure laced with just a bit of fear skitter their way down my spine. I grit my teeth in response still trying to ignore him.
Good looking or not, this is just plain annoying. Most of my irritation is actually directed at myself for the reaction he’s able to pull so effortlessly from me. It’s taken the better part of nine months to emotionally deaden myself. And somehow this guy has shot all my hard work to hell with two adorable dimples and a pair of gorgeous whiskey colored eyes. Not to mention the rest of the package.
Yeah, it’s definitely best not to think about that right now.
Without a word of warning, I spin towards him again. I’m hoping the element of surprise will have him backing off. Of course he’s much closer than I anticipate. And so, with the shitty luck I’m having this evening, I crash right into his rather impressively muscled chest.
Did I happen to mention just how hard those muscles feel beneath the soft pads of my fingers?
Or that I might actually enjoy running my hands slowly over what I imagine to be completely amazing pecks?
Well this isn’t good.
With lightning quick reflexes, he reaches out to steady me as my eyes clash with his.
“No.” Usually if ignoring doesn’t work, bitch-mode will get the job done rather nicely. That’s my second go-to line of defense. And since I’m not naturally a bitch (I’m really not), it’s not something I enjoy doing.
Once in a while I’ll actually get called a dyke for not being interested. Why is it that the most persistent ones are usually the ones who take rejection the hardest? And they certainly like to go right for the jugular when it finally becomes clear (to them anyway) that they won’t be tapping anything of mine with anything of theirs.
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