A gurgle of laughter bubbles up in my throat.
I don’t think so, buddy.
I’m not like the bubbleheads he usually toys with. I have a working brain and I enjoy using it to make good decisions that won’t come back to bite me in the ass. Unlike Beck, I have a healthy amount of self-preservation.
I press my lips into a tight line before emphatically shaking my head.
A wolfish grin spills across his face, giving him a boyishly handsome appearance. With dark tousled hair, sharp cheekbones that scream his Russian heritage, and thick eyebrows, he’s a danger to females everywhere. I won’t mention the chiseled body that looks like it was carved from stone. Broad shoulders and a tapered waist complete the package.
It’s almost a relief when a bikini-clad girl steps between us, severing the connection. Now that his sharp gaze is no longer pinning me in place, I’m able to exhale all the air from my lungs.
Alyssa grabs my hand. “There he is,” she whisper-yells excitedly over the babble of voices and music. “Oh my God, he’s so freaking dreamy.”
I regard the crowd of newly minted high school graduates before finding Colton.
Sure, I’ll admit it. He’s as hot as Beck. Instead of short dark hair, he’s golden blond. It’s buzzed on the sides and left long on top, so he’s constantly pushing it away from bright blue eyes. He’s tall and brawny. If I hadn’t gone to school with him since elementary, I’d suspect he flunked a few grades. Even his muscles have muscles.
Girls are already circling around him, vying for his attention. The guy is like a rock star picking out groupies to sleep with at the end of the night.
“He’s okay,” I mutter, wanting to downplay his attractiveness.
“You’re so full of shit, your eyes are turning brown. He’s way better than okay and you know it.”
“Ewww.” I scrunch my nose. “That’s gross.”
“Focus!” She snaps her fingers in front of my face.
I make one last-ditch effort to sway her. “You can do better than Colton. He knows exactly how hot he is and takes full advantage of it every chance he gets. Find someone like,” I stand on my tiptoes and pick through the mass of bodies before zeroing in on the perfect guy for Alyssa, “Landon Mathews. Not only is he good looking, he’s a sweetheart.”
Alyssa’s expression turns thoughtful as she assesses the tall guy with inky-black hair and unusual blue-green eyes. He’s standing around with a bunch of football players, laughing at something one of them said.
“He’s definitely yummy,” she admits.
For one glorious moment, my spirits soar. Maybe she’ll drop this whole Colton Montgomery nonsense and go after someone more attainable. Landon is a great guy. He’s as hot as his friends, but he’s not a total asshat. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get nearly the same amount of hype that Colton or Beck do since he’s been labeled a good guy.
I mean, who wants to date a nice guy when you can have one who treats you like total crap?
Said no one ever.
Except…there seems to be way more truth to that statement than most females are comfortable acknowledging. Whether they realize it or not, these girls have been conditioned to crave unattainable jerks.
It’s disturbing on so many levels.
“Added bonus,” I continue, “he knows you’re alive!”
“Um, excuse me, Colton knows I’m alive,” she grumbles.
“Are you certain about that?”
She bites her lip as we glance at the guy in question who is—surprise-surprise—surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad girls competing for his interest.
Uh-oh.
Alyssa’s got that look in her eye. The one that tells me not to bother trying to talk her out of her plans.
She confirms it by saying, “Wish me luck, I’m going in.”
It was worth a try.
“Good luck.”
One of Alyssa’s best qualities is that she’s not a quitter. That girl can be as tenacious and persistent as a terrier. And sometimes, just as yappy.
In this instance, it’s a negative.
When she’s a few steps away, I cup my fingers around my mouth and yell, “Maybe you should take off the panties so you can flash him your puss. That way he’ll know you’re a sure thing.”
She whips around with a grin. “Excellent idea!”
My jaw drops when she shimmies out of her panties and tosses them in my direction.
“Christ, girl! I was joking! That was sarcasm!” I glance at the wadded-up material I now clench in my hand. “What am I supposed to do with these?”
She shrugs. “Keep them as a souvenir?”
Gross.
“I don’t think so.” I stalk to a garbage can and pitch them. When I turn around, Alyssa is pushing her way through the crowd, moving steadily closer to Colton and his harem.
If nothing else, this should be entertaining. It takes a moment to realize I’m alone at a party I didn’t want to attend in the first place. I slip my phone from my back pocket and glance at it.