“Hey there,” Hunter said, straightening up and running a hand through his brown curls.
I guess this girl is hot.
When I turned to see for myself, I could understand the appeal. A tall redhead stood beside Georgia in the doorway. There was no way in hell it was her natural hair color, but I pegged her as one of those rich girls who spent more time in salons and shopping malls than anywhere else. She knew what looked good. Actually, she’d probably make an excellent soccer wife one day, with her perfect make-up and figure-hugging clothes.
She’s too young for a boob job, right?
They were practically bursting out of her low cut shirt, and Hunter was salivating beside me.
“Hunter, Jesse, this is my friend from college, Mischa.”
Georgia looked slightly apologetic as Mischa breezed into the room, a huge smile on her face, and placed air kisses on our cheeks.
“Pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Hunter replied, “Like, really.”
She winked at him, then turned her attention to me. “You must be the football player. I can tell by your muscles.”
Without a hint of subtlety, she ran her hand across my left bicep, and squeezed.
I pulled away from her. Did she really think that sort of behaviour worked on guys?
“Aww, how cute, he’s shy,” she said. “It’s okay, I can be very gentle.”
Hunter laughed, obviously digging her style. I thought she reeked of desperation.
“I’m not shy,” I said. “A little scared, though. Hasn’t anyone ever told you you come on too strong?”
She shook her head. “No. I thought you’d be used to it, being such a sexy famous boy!”
Oh for God’s sake.
“Excuse me,” I said, standing up to escape to my room.
I didn’t want to be rude, but I was sick of girls showing interest in me just because I played soccer. I knew most guys my age would have loved it. Hunt
er sure thought I wasted my “fame” by keeping away from all the horny women who wanted to date me. But that wasn’t my style.
At the top of the stairs, I noticed Isabelle’s bedroom door was open. As I walked by, I saw her laying on her bed, deep in thought. I was going to walk on, not wanting to disturb her, but her pretty brown eyes seemed sad.
“Hey,” I said, peering around the doorframe. “Everything okay?”
Isabelle’s head snapped up, her face flushed. “Hi. Yeah. I’m okay.”
Does that mean I should stay and talk to her, or carry on back to my own room? I hadn’t really talked to her with nobody else around before, even though I’d wanted to do just that since the moment I re-met her.
“What are you doing up here?” she asked. “I thought you’d be downstairs with Mischa.”
“That’s actually why I’m up here. Somebody needs to tell her to tone it down. I ran away like a little girl.”
Isabelle’s unhappiness fell away. “Yeah, she can be a bit frightening when she has her sights set on someone.”
“She has her sights set on me already? She only met me for thirty seconds.”
“Well, she knows what she likes, and you’re just her type.”
“Her type? You mean, I’m breathing?”