Rowdy Boy

My body is still frigid from the water, and I’m shivering in place. I quickly dried myself off before we jumped into the car, but it’s not enough to rinse off the shame.

“Monica?” Mel grabs my arm and pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Huh? Uh … yeah … I’m fine,” I lie, not wanting to make this a bigger deal than it already is.

“Are you sure? Because you don’t look like it,” she says.

I look out the window, wishing I could erase what happened from my mind, but I can’t stop thinking about his hands and lips all over my body and how good it made me feel … and how hard I came crashing down when I realized it was all a game to him.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. It’s the first time I’ve been honest with her.

“What happened?” she asks. “Did someone hurt you?”

“Cole,” I say through gritted teeth.

She grabs me and turns me around to face her. “Did he do something to you?”

I mull it over for a second. I’m not sure I want to tell her.

“You can trust me,” she says. “I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Honest?” I say. “I didn’t actually stop him. That’s the problem.”

She cocks her head and sighs. “Oh, Monica …”

I clutch my towel closer. “I should’ve trusted you. You warned me about him. And I still fell for it.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just what he does.” She puts her arm around me. “Don’t beat yourself up over him.”

“I know … it’s just … hard. Hard to forget about him when he makes it so difficult,” I scoff.

She laughs. “Yeah, you’re not the first to say that.”

“He’s had many, hasn’t he?” I ask.

“Oh yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “By the dozen. Usually, they don’t last more than a month.”

I snort. “I didn’t even last a day.”

“Aw, come here.” She hugs me tight. “Fuck that guy. He’s not worth the trouble.”

“I know, especially with my baggage,” I reply.

“Baggage?” She looks up at me.

Shit, I forgot, I never told her.

I rub my lips together. “Ah, it’s nothing.” I shrug it off.

Not sure I want to spill the beans to her, even though I came close. This is something I need to deal with on my own. Mel has nothing to do with my problems.

“Hey, I can punch him for you, if you want,” she jests.

I laugh. “You don’t have to do that for me, but I appreciate the thought.”

“Hey, you might be the new girl, but you’re also my friend, Mo.” She smiles. “I don’t like seeing my friends get hurt.”

“You’re a good friend,” I reply. “Actually, the only friend I have right now.” I snort.

“C’mon, you can’t be that lonely?” She raises a brow.

“Well, there’s always Sam, but she’s somewhere out there partying with people from my old school, I guess.” I shrug.

“She’s your bestie, right?” she asks. “Why don’t you invite her to join us sometimes?” She grabs her phone and hands it to me. “Here, add her number. I’ll add her to the group convo.”

“What? You sure?” I mutter in disbelief.

“Yeah, of course.” She grins. “The more, the merrier. And if she’s anything like you, I’m sure it’ll be fun.” She winks.

Well, I guess this miserable night might just have one silver lining.

Cole

I’m tuning my guitar, but every single time I play a note, I’m reminded of the fact that I’m gonna have to play these songs again. The same songs that I played while Monica was looking at me. And I can’t get those eyes out of my mind. That body that curved so beautifully into the palm of my hand, those lips that yearned for more, that wet, aching pussy begging to be relieved.

Fuck.

I’ve never had this before, not with any girl, and it’s infuriating. She’s just a fucking girl, someone I got intrigued by because of Ariane’s protectiveness, nothing more.

I shake my head, trying to forget about her, but the harder I try, the stickier her image becomes. Just like the rage-fueled hatred seated in her eyes when she realized I won the dare.

I’ve always liked winning, especially girls. They fall for me in droves, and I enjoy the attention. Seducing comes easy to me, but something about this girl makes it not as easy to let go as it was with all the others. Normally, I would’ve moved on already … but right now, all I can think about is her, and it’s driving me insane.

I growl out loud and put my guitar aside. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Tristan walks into the room with a beaming smile on his face. “Dude. Check this out.” He holds up a closed envelope. “Found it in the PO box.”

“What is it? More fan mail?” I ask, expecting a lot of gushy messages.

“No, idiot. It’s an invitation.” He smacks the envelope down on a table in front of me. “From DAP Studios.”