Rowdy Boy

“You look horny, babe.”

Ick.

“Michael asked me to make them,” Ariane tells me, completely ignoring what he said.

I narrow my eyes. Michael, the guy from Cole’s band, asked her to make the pamphlets? So this is his party?

“This is your house?” I ask Michael while he’s dry humping her.

He looks up at me. “No. I wish it was.”

“Then whose is it?” I say, clutching my drink.

“You ask too many questions, Mo,” Ariane says while Michael continues to rub up against her. “Just enjoy the evening. Live a little.” She winks. “There are plenty of boys here.”

I lick my lips and shake my head. She’s not telling me something, which means it’s important.

“Ariane,” I say sternly.

“What?” she mutters, focusing on Michael. “I’m going to dance. You should do the same. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

I sigh out loud and walk off. I’m really not in the mood for her cryptic bullshit right now. I’m not even sure I want to be here anymore now that I know TRIGGER is involved. Even if it’s just Michael or Tristan is close enough to make me run for the hills. But I came here to relax and party, not to panic and sweat. Maybe Cole won’t be here. Maybe he’s out partying somewhere else, maybe he’s busy, maybe he’s …

Right there.

Slouched with parted legs on the big, blue couch in the darkened living room.

With a drink in his left hand and that same girl who was laughing at me when I bumped into Cole in the hallways, Lindy, twirling his hair on the right.

Well, fuck me right off the face of this earth.

Chapter 26

Monica

The cup I was holding is crushed underneath the weight of my hand, turning into a fist.

I immediately turn around and go into the crowd. I’m fuming. Livid. I don’t know why he has this effect on me, and I fucking hate it.

So I grab the nearest boy I can find and start dancing with him. The guy doesn’t seem to mind as I’m bouncing around his body and wrap my arms around his neck. But my eyes can’t help travel toward Cole’s … and revel in how furiously they stare back.

My whole body is heating up, either from dancing or from the way he looks at me because damn, he can’t take his eyes off me. Serves him right for adding me to his long list of prized conquests. He wants to play? Well, so can I. And he definitely doesn’t like what he sees.

A smirk forms on my lips. Too fucking bad.

I dance like nothing’s bothering me even though I can feel his eyes bore into my skin. The boy I’m with smells like liquor and drugs, two of my biggest vices, but I try to ignore it as best as I can. Because I need this. That’s what I told myself. What Ariane told me.

I’ve moved on.

But the boy suddenly gets his hands on my waist in a way that I don’t like, and I try to push him away.

“What’s the problem, girl?” he says. “I’m just trying to get friendly.”

“Don’t,” I say. “Just dance. That’s it.”

When I try to continue, he keeps touching my breasts and hips. “C’mon, girl. You started it. Now let me get a taste,” he whispers in my ear.

“Get off!” I hiss, untangling myself in the middle of a crowd full of people who are bumping into me, forcing me straight back into his arms.

Suddenly, someone rips his arms away from my body.

“She said beat it.” Cole’s familiar growl makes me turn around in shock.

The boy glares at him for a second, only to taper off like a coward when Cole’s muscles tense up. When he’s gone, Cole turns his attention to me. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” I make a face.

“Whatever the fuck that was,” he says through gritted teeth. “That.” He points in the direction the boy just went.

“Dancing with someone?” I scoff. “It’s a fucking party. Of course I’ll dance.”

“Don’t,” he growls. “Don’t fucking do this.”

“Oh what, I’m not allowed to party?” I raise a brow. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, thanks.”

“You were throwing yourself at him,” he says, inching closer.

“So what if I was?” I fold my arms.

“You know how boys work,” he says under his breath, looking around to see if anyone’s heard him.

“So? I told him not to,” I say.

“And he wasn’t listening,” he retorts.

“That’s my problem,” I reply, pursing my lips. “Not yours.”

“I made it my problem when he put his hands on you,” he snarls back, closing in on me.

“Yeah, I can see that.” I cock my head and ogle the girl behind him. “But aren’t you supposed to entertain your own damn girlfriend?”

His brows furrow, and he briefly glances back at the girl sitting on the couch, throwing air-kisses at him. “Her?” He makes a tsk sound. “I don’t give a damn about her.”