She goes up on tiptoes to press a kiss on my cheek, a little closer to my mouth than is standard. She smells of strawberries in a way that feels childish rather than sultry. “How’s the modeling going. Toby told me you were in Europe?”
“Yeah. I did a shoot for a watch brand,” I say.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Europe,” she gushes.
“Really, which part?” I ask.
Her blue eyes go blank for a moment. Does she not realize that Europe is made up of over forty different countries with different languages and cultures?
“Just, you know. All over.” Her face falls, uncertainty making her hazel eyes widen.
“Yeah,” I say. “You should go.”
“I might,” she says, relieved. “After I graduate. My dad wants me to get a job right away, but you only live once, right?”
“Exactly,” I say.
Allie, or Ellie, or whatever her name is, bites her bottom lip and touches her wavy brown hair, making it obvious that she wants to hook up. It doesn’t bother me that my brothers have already run up in her. I’m easy when it comes to sex. Human bodies were created with inbuilt capacities for infinite pleasure. I’m good with people seeking out their pleasure wherever and whenever they want to. And she’s pretty in a cute and nonmemorable kind of way. Exactly the kind of girl I’d usually go for after a few drinks have loosened my mind.
I glance around the room, searching for my brothers. Tobias already has his tongue down the throat of a blonde who’s draped in his lap. River is playing a drinking game with five dudes who look like they could shoulder the weight of the world, they’re so huge. Alden is mixing cocktails, and Mark is talking animatedly with a girl I modeled with for a magazine cover.
Then I spot Cora in the doorway, dressed in cute, tie-dyed boy shorts and a panda shirt, with her hands on her hips. The fury in her eyes as she gazes around at the mess of people, empty bottles, and discarded pizza boxes almost ripples the air in front of her.
For a second, a flicker of guilt disrupts my smugness. She has work tomorrow, and it’s after midnight. This probably isn’t what she imagined living here would be like, especially on her first night. But fuck her.
Pretend I don’t exist. That’s what she asked for, so that’s what she’s going to get. There’s no room for guilt or sentimentality.
Her eyes meet mine, and it’s like a jolt of electricity passes between us for a second. With cute glasses perched on her button nose, and her hair tugged into a messy bun on the top of her head, she looks like the adorable archetypal girl next door.
But then I remember she’s a harpy, and the cuteness slides off her like oil off Teflon.
I wink at Cora, watching as her face goes red and her jaw clenches with anger, then I rest my hand on Allie’s hip and turn my attention to her eager face. “You know, you look so beautiful,” I tell her. “I love this look on you. I swear I saw a similar dress on a runway in Paris.” She beams, filled with confidence at my false praise, and I hate myself even more.
But I don’t get a chance to redeem myself from assholesville because she’s up on her tiptoes again, and this time her lips meet mine.
The kiss isn’t terrible. It’s fucking sexy. I can see why Tobias took her upstairs to fuck her. In seconds, her tongue slides over mine, and my cock is rock hard between us. Her hands paw at my chest and biceps, then slide up under the hem of my shirt.
In normal circumstances, I’d take some time to build up with this girl, but with Cora watching, I don’t want to waste an opportunity to show her just how much I’m pretending she doesn’t exist.
I tug my shirt over my head in a swift movement, giving whatever-her-name-is a look at what she was hunting for. And before I go back to kissing her, I make sure to glance back at the doorway one more time, finding Cora still there with rage in her eyes, and maybe something else too.
4
MARK
The morning after the party, my head is banging, and it takes two bottles of water, some painkillers, and two plain bagels to set me on the path to feeling slightly human again.
I bump into Cora on my way out of the front door, and her face is the picture of rage.
She stomps down the driveway, her black boots clomping loud enough to feel it in my already throbbing temples. Her old car splutters to life and leaves an acrid balloon of black smoke in its wake as she speeds off to wherever she needs to get to in a hurry.