Jesse (Damage Control 2)

Shane tilts his head to the side, regarding us. His hair is long and shiny black, caught in a ponytail. A silver dreamcatcher hangs from one earlobe, and if anything, he’s even more exotic-looking than Seth, with his almond-shaped dark eyes and tanned skin.

“Micah promised beer,” he says, his voice deep like a gong, sending goosebumps over my skin. He lifts his beer bottle in evidence. “How could I say no?”

“Right. Of course.” Ev shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Have you seen Jesse? Can’t seem to find him anywhere, and I thought he came with you.”

He takes a swig from his bottle and then frowns as if in thought. “Chicks.”

“I’m sorry?”

Shane waves his bottle at the room and the hot, grinding bodies. “Plenty of chicks here. He must’ve caught one.”

I gape at him. Is he seriously talking about girls as if they’re fish on a line?

“I see. Have fun, then.” Ev drags me away as I try to decipher Shane’s expression, to detect any glimmer of humor in his eyes, but his face is still, as if carved in stone.

“Is he always that witty and entertaining?”

“Always.” Ev giggles and then squeals. “Joey! Oh my God, you made it. Over here!”

And she ditches me between a couple humping against the wall and another writhing on the couch.

She ditches me in order to wrap herself around a hottie with dark hair and sparkling eyes.

What in the world?

He laughs and returns the hug easily.

“Evie, you dork,” I hear him say as I approach them. He pulls back and ruffles her hair. “You look real pretty, you little shit. Look at you, all dolled up. How’s it hanging?”

Okay, who’s this guy, and what’s going on? I glance around for Micah, expecting him to come punch this asshole off his feet, but Micah is grinning from ear to ear, heading our way.

“Joel, man, what’s up?” Micah and this Joel guy shake hands and clap each other on the back. “You here alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Ellen couldn’t make it?” Ev blinks innocently at Joel, her eyes a tad too wide.

“Nope.”

“You didn’t ask her out, did you? Be honest.”

He scowls, and I seriously consider turning on my heel and going to look for a beer, because I have no clue what’s going on and what they’re talking about.

“Amber.” Ev comes after me before I take two steps. “Come meet my brother, Joey.”

Blinking, feeling a bit stupid and a whole lot annoyed that I didn’t guess as much, I do my best to grin at Ev’s handsome brother and assure him it’s a pleasure to meet him.

They don’t look one bit alike, but oh, Lord, I’m so glad I didn’t open my mouth earlier. So glad I didn’t immediately think he was insulting Ev and didn’t attempt to kick him in the nuts or slap his handsome face.

Crap.

Stammering an excuse, I make my escape and go look for that beer. I’d leave, but this is my apartment now. Nowhere else to run and hide.

So beer it is. Or wine, or whatever such buffer I can place between myself and the real world. A door with a lock would have been preferable, all things said and done.

And why the hell not? This is my apartment, my bedroom. If I want to lock myself inside, if I want to be antisocial and stand-offish, that’s my right, isn’t it?

I’m actually heading that way, the pull of peace and quiet too strong to withstand—when the bathroom door is thrown open in my face, missing me by an inch. As I jerk back, it bangs against the wall, and someone stumbles out into the dim hallway.