by S. M. Soto
“So, what then?” I ask angrily. “I’m just supposed to wait until you’re ready to leave?”
“No, it’s okay I found a ride, actually,” she says flippantly, with a shrug like it’s no big deal. My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I’m sure my face looks the same shade as a tomato.
“You should stay and enjoy the party though. My ride can give us all a lift if you’d like?” she asks with a sweet smile. I try to smile back, but I’m sure it looks forced and probably really ugly.
Taking a deep breath, I whirl away with my phone already in hand, dialing Sam.
“What happened?” she asks on the first ring. I sigh and plug my ear with my finger to hear better.
“Just go home and go on your dick date. It’s a long story but I’m staying.” I sigh. “Sorry I ruined your night.”
“You’re not serious, are you?” Sam screeches, blowing out my eardrum.
“She’s drunk, and her friends are all stupid idiots.”
“Fitting. Stupid idiots, just like her,” Sam snarks.
“What if she gets a ride home from a drunk person? My dad will probably kill me. I’ll just stay for a while, then call us an Uber. No big deal. Take my car on your date—no sex on the seats, Samantha! I’m serious.”
“I think that’s a stupid fucking reason for helping out the devil, but whatever. Just call if you need me. And no car sex, got it.”
On a sigh, I hang up and place the tip of my phone to my forehead and bang it there, repeatedly. I’m at a stupid frat party, on sorority row, on a Friday night when I should be home studying.
Fucking great.
This is going to be the worst night of my life. I can already feel it.
I walk back to the spot my sister and her friends were just habituating no more than a few minutes ago and come up short. I dart my eyes around the packed room but don’t see them.
Motherfucker.
Sighing deeply, I force my way through the bodies again until I end up in a kitchen. Liquor bottles and kegs line the counter surfaces, while puddles of what I hope is beer are all over the floor. The kitchen isn’t as packed as every other square inch of this house, so I use this little moment as a reprieve from the chaos.
Leaning against the counter, I close my eyes and take deep breaths to center myself. She’s your sister so you can’t kill her, I repeat to myself over and over.
“Hey, I know you!” A boisterous voice shouts and my eyes fly open. A blond guy who’s the size of a bear is pointing at me like he knows me.
What the hell?
I search around me for anyone else he could be talking to, but nope, sure enough, he’s talking to me. He’s with a group of guys who are unrealistically huge, giving me the impression that they play a sport of some sort. It’s either that or these guys have all been taking steroids.
“I had you in stats! I used to copy off you all the time when you weren’t looking, dude. Only way I could’ve passed that class.” He cackles with laughter, fist bumping his friends, and I narrow my eyes at him. I did take stats but I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered this loud idiot. I look at his friends to see if I recognize any of them. My eyes rake them up and down with no spark of recognition. My heart stutters in my chest when my eyes land on a pair of narrowed green eyes that are trained solely on me. I freeze. Every cell in my body thrums to life, becoming hyper aware of the guy before me. My breath rushes out of me and I’m momentarily lost in the swirling color of his eyes. I’d know this guy anywhere.
Luke Caldwell.
Gorgeous. Cocky. Star quarterback. MVP. The list goes on.
He’s the talk of the campus.
Everyone wants to be friends with him. Every guy wants to be him. And every girl on campus wants to know him. I also know he used to date my sister, which makes him off limits. Not that I even stood a chance with a guy like Luke Caldwell anyway. I don’t know many people at SDSU, but I’ve heard enough to know about Luke. You’d have to live under a rock not to know anything about him.
He’s leaning casually against the wall, away from his group of friends, just staring at me. Unnamed and unfamiliar emotions flash across his face. I shift on my feet when it suddenly hits me. It all makes sense now—they’re football jocks. That definitely explains the bear-body build, and the boisterous laughter.
I swallow thickly as I take him in. Even as he silently hangs back in the corner, I can feel the intensity surrounding him, it cackles in the very air of the kitchen, somehow making the oxygen I breathe heavy and thick. Luke Caldwell demands the attention of everyone in the room with a face chiseled to perfection and a lean athletic build—he has to be at least six foot four. He has short copper hair that’s longer on the top than it is at the sides and the most formidable pair of eyes I have ever seen. Luke’s dressed in a simple black tee that hugs all his thick muscles, and a pair of jeans. He makes the simplest of clothes look like something out of a designer campaign.
He takes a sip from his red plastic cup, never once taking his dark eyes off me. It’s unsettling. The jock’s voice penetrates my stare-off with Luke as the idiot keeps shouting in his drunken rant.
“You were so smart, it was fucking freaky, dude!” He laughs, and I shift my gaze to him. Narrowing my eyes at him, I place my hand under my chin and pretend like I’m thinking hard about something.
“I remember you now!” I say pointing at him. He smiles back at his friends with a smug head nod. “You were that special needs guy from my stats class. I totally remember now.” I slap my hand to my forehead in a duh gesture. “How could I forget?”
All his friends burst out laughing while he turns his furious gaze to me.
“Major fucking burn, Shaun.” One of his friend shouts.
I don’t wait for his reaction. I quickly turn around, running smack into Georgina.
“Jesus, Natalia!” she yells. “You almost made me spill my beer.” Her whiny voice grates on my nerves. I rub my aching shoulder that collided with her body in hopes it’ll keep me from shoving my fist down my sister’s throat.
An apology would be nice, Gina.
“Luke!” she squeals when she realizes who’s in the room behind me. I roll my eyes at her infuriating show of enthusiasm.
Get a grip Georgina, he’s just a guy. A very hot, and desirable guy, but nonetheless, just a guy.
Stop it! I berate myself internally for even having those thoughts.
I turn around with a groan. Now that Gina’s spotted Luke, she’ll dig her claws into him, and we’ll probably be here for a while. Time to face the aftermath of my big mouth. Shaun, the guy I just insulted, is frowning at me and his friends are all still laughing. I at least have the decency to look apologetic for my insult.
“Slutty G, how the hell do you know someone like her?” One of the guys asks incredulously, like he honestly can’t believe my sister would be friends with someone like me.
Believe me buddy, we’re nowhere near friends.
“Fuck off, J!” she spits venomously. I glance at Luke who’s now looking between me and Georgina with a subtle crease between his brows. His gaze falls back on mine and indifference clouds his features. He no longer looks intrigued by my presence—now he just looks down right disgusted by me. Ouch.
He doesn’t acknowledge my sister, he just pushes off the wall and walks out of the room. I breathe a little sigh of relief. No Luke means I won’t have to wait around long for Gina. I turn around to face my sister, a frown mars her pretty pale features, and if I’m not mistaken, she looks a little hurt by Luke’s brush-off.
“Are you ready to go yet?” I ask as patiently as I can. Georgina downs her cup of beer and burps loudly in my face, and I swear I almost throw up. She walks away laughing and stumbling.
Well, I guess I have my answer to that question. I have to keep telling myself it’s not okay to punch a drunk person. Let alone punch your drunk sister. I refrain from doing so by pulling up the text message notifications on my phone to distract me. Of course, they’re a
ll from Sam.
Sam: Call me if you need me then. I’m late for my dick date ;)
I roll my eyes and open her attachment, immediately wishing I hadn’t. I’m scarred—the image she just sent me is etched into my brain forever, even if I don’t want it there. I text her back as quickly as my fingers will let me as I try not to gouge my eyes out simultaneously.
Natalia: NO MORE DICK PICS!!!!!! Sam: Aw c’mon. This dick looked better than the last
There’s no doubt in my mind she’s rolling with laughter right now over my misery. If there’s one thing to know about my best friend, she loves to torture me in any way possible. Or anyone else for that matter.
I swiftly open the Uber app on my phone to schedule a pickup since I don’t have my car anymore. There’s no way I’m calling Sam after seeing the intimate details of her dick date, and I’m sick and tired of waiting for Georgina. To hell with the consequences from my dad. She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.
After fighting my way out of the house filled with drunken party goers, I finally make it outside. The cool breeze is welcome after being in that house surrounded by warm bodies. It was so stuffy in there, I was beginning to hyperventilate. I scan the front of the house searching for an address to send the driver but can’t find anything that would work as an address for him. I groan in frustration.
Can’t anything work in my favor?
Walking away from the house, I make a left down the street, the way I came when I parked with Sam. I exhale in frustration and mumble insults to my sister under my breath. I could’ve been at home right now, safely in bed, curled up with my textbook and a bag of chips.
“Normally, I would say not being aware of your surroundings is dangerous and stupid, but the fact that you’re talking to yourself is enough to make a predator run the opposite way.” A deep voice a few yards away from me rasps, nearly sending me into cardiac arrest.
I snap my gaze up, finding Luke Caldwell in all his glory, leaning against a sleek black BMW. I feel his voice in my stomach. That’s not good. Voices should stop at the ears, but his—no, his voice travels throughout my entire body. His is deep, confident, and smooth—like fucking butter. It’s exactly how I expected someone like Luke to sound. He has it all. Looks, popularity, and now a sinfully sexy voice to match. Damn him.
My mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish. I’m at a complete loss for words, and it takes a few seconds for my brain to play catch up, digesting everything he’s just said. My eyes instantly narrow into thin slits.
“I wasn’t talking to myself.” I clip. He raises his brows in an “oh really” expression calling my bluff. “Okay, well maybe I was, but that doesn’t mean I’m crazy,” I correct.
Luke chuckles, crossing his thick arms over his chest, and I have to force my eyes not to follow the movement.
“The fact you had to say you aren’t crazy probably means you are.”
“And you would know wouldn’t you,” I snark, my patience thinning. “One would think you were looking for trouble with the way you came walking out of that party, no doubt under the influence. Anything could happen to you out here by yourself. So yeah, I guess I would know crazy when I see crazy.” He shrugs with airy nonchalance, and I lose it.
How dare he accuse me of looking for trouble?
My anger starts to bubble over the surface, and I take threatening steps toward his casual stance against the car. He doesn’t even flinch a muscle as I advance. Surprise flashes in his eyes fleetingly, but the intensity and intrigue with which he regards me is unnerving. I stop no more than a few feet away from him and jab what I think is a threatening finger in his face.
“You don’t know jack shit, asshole.” He chuckles again only fueling my anger. “What the fuck is so funny?” I shout. “This is seriously not the night to mess with me! I’m supposed to be studying for exams on Monday for Christ’s sake, not out babysitting at a freaking frat party!” I shout again.
Great, I probably do look like a crazy person now. Shouting like a complete lunatic outside in the middle of the night.
To my dismay, he doesn’t seem bothered by all my shouting, just all the more intrigued. He continues staring at me, searching for something. What it could possibly be, I’m not entirely sure.
“So, you’re friends with Georgina,” is all he says.
Did he not just hear anything I said? Why are we now talking about Georgina?
Then it hits me. Mother fucker.
He wants me to talk to Georgina for him. Well too fucking bad Casanova. I’m not in the business of playing Cupid.
His blank expression doesn’t change—he just watches me. Gauging my reaction. If he wants a reaction, I’ll give him one.
“Friends?” I scoff. “She’s my sister. Well half-sister. And she’s also told me all the sordid details of you guys banging each other, so please don’t try to befriend me in hopes that I’ll put in a good word for you, because I won’t.”
His brows pinch together, and something flits across his face for a brief second before he uncrosses his arms and looks me up and down. Not in a predatory way, but a way that says what the hell are you wearing? Is he seriously just now noticing my lack of slutty attire?
“I was home studying. Gina said she needed a ride, but when I got here, she told me she had it covered,” I say in explanation.
Luke smirks and shakes his head. “Typical Georgina.”
I nod my head in agreement because he’s right. She does this stuff all the time, and I always fall for it.
“Why would I need you to get close to your sister? Do you not know who I am?” The way he asks the question irks me.
Is this guy serious? I mean, of course I know who he is. He’s Luke Fucking Caldwell, but the fact that he knows how popular he is just shows he’s a total douche.
I bark out a sharp laugh. “You have got to be the most self-centered guy I’ve ever met in my life.” He ignores my remark, instead switching the topic of our conversation.
“We didn’t ‘bang’.” He air quotes for emphasis. “Your sister came onto me when I was drunk and offered her…services.”
I scrunch my face in disgust and wave my hands to cut him off. “Please, don’t say anymore. I already feel like I might throw up after some of the things I’ve seen tonight.”
He laughs at the repulsed look on my face and I frown.
“Where’s your car?” Luke asks as he scans the area for any cars nearby that might be mine.
I sigh. “Not here with me. I was just gonna get a ride from an Uber, but I don’t have an address to give. That’s why I was talking to myself. Trying to think of another option.”
I look around the street still trying to find anything akin to an address.
“I can give you a ride,” he offers casually, still leaning against his shiny car. I pause for a beat, then purse my lips, crossing my arms over my chest protectively. Getting a ride home from a guy like Luke Caldwell can only result in one thing, and that’s something I’m not interested in. No matter how fine he is.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’d rather be hit by a bus than get a ride home from you.” I’m hoping spewing hurtful things will give him the impression I’m not interested when really, I am, but he sure as shit doesn’t need to know that.
He doesn’t even seem the least bit offended. He just shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“In all honesty, I think I’d rather be the one driving said bus but hey, I can’t always get everything I want.”
“Did you seriously just imply that you’d like to run me over with a freaking bus?” I ask incredulously.
“Yeah, sounds like I did.” I narrow my eyes at him and my nostrils flare. I’ve heard a lot of things about Luke, and being an asshole to people has always been the most frequent of discussions about him. That and the fact that he’s a manwhore. Can’t forget that.
“You do realize you’re an asshole, right?” I raise an inquisitive brow and he smiles. Framing his perfectly straight t
eeth and full lips are two incredibly attractive dimples.
Jesus. This guy can do no wrong when he shows off those things. They’re disarming.
“Fine,” I acquiesce and grumble under my breath all the way to the passenger side of the car. Luke unlocks the doors and I drop into the seat stiffly, with my arms over my chest like a petulant child.
After giving him directions, he starts the car and most of the drive is done in silence. I faintly hear the beat to my current favorite song on the radio and ask Luke to turn it up. He tweaks the knobs in the center console of his car, turning up the stereo. I quietly sing the lyrics of “The Middle” by Zedd and can feel Luke’s stare at the side of my head.
“Stop looking at me. It’s weird,” I grumble, trying to lose myself back into the song.
“You’re weird,” he quips, and I whip my head over toward him.
Does he always have to have some sort of comeback? It’s freaking irritating.
I heave a deep sigh and go back to my silent singing.
“You’re pretty good.”
I frown. “Good at what?”
“Singing,” he states, and I laugh. Like really laugh.
“Are you kidding?” I ask through my laughter. “I’m horrible at singing. I think a dying cat sounds better than I do.” I shift in my seat toward him and see a small smile play at the corners of his lips.
“Yeah, I know. I was just kidding.” His grin turns devious, and I have the urge to shove my fist in his face yet laugh all the same.
“You’re a dick,” I grumble under my breath. That gets a loud rumbling laugh out of him, and I have to force myself not to smile at his laughter. It’s infectious.
Smug asshole.
“Yeah, I know, babe. Pretty sure everyone knows it too.”
My heart stutters in my chest at his little endearment. I’ve never been called babe by anyone in my entire life. Hearing it come out of Luke’s mouth does something strange to me. I have to remind myself who he is, and what he does for a living besides play football—be a whore.
