Stephanie’s on the island countertop in front of him with her legs spread wide. He says something that causes her to laugh. Her voice cuts through me. I want to kill her. Why did I ever agree to this fake relationship with Drake? I can’t do this. I’m not built for all the lies.
The blonde who was with Stephanie earlier cozies up to Drake’s side, drinking from her cup. She’s so tiny in comparison to him. What could he possibly see in either of them? They’re literally throwing themselves at him.
He doesn’t even have to work for their attention. It’s pathetic how easy both of them are. Stacy pushes her legs open wider to give him a good look. I bet she’s not wearing underwear, too. She’s known for being that girl, always open for business and down to fuck.
When Drake glances over his shoulder, I shoot him a dirty look that could cut through steel. A glimmer of panic shoots through his irises for a split second. He even looks like he might come over to explain, but he doesn’t. He pretends our exchange never happened, and then goes back to talking to Little Miss Easy and her Barbie lookalike friend.
Without giving him another thought, I stomp past them to fill two more cups of beer. Fuck this shit. I’m getting wasted. I never do wild things like this, but I need something, anything, to distract me. My heart aches when I take one last look at Drake. The thought of him touching those girls makes me want to vomit.
I find Shannon in the living room, grinding on Jamie, who looks like he’s ready to explode. Jemma is at her side dancing with Tucker. Preston and Bex are… who knows where. My guess is upstairs in Preston’s bedroom.
When someone steps behind and grabs hold of my hips, I close my eyes, swept away by the sensation this stranger’s touch provides. To hell with Drake and those girls. I came here to party, not to dwell on hockey players I can’t even have.
I chug one beer in a few gulps and then slide the empty cup beneath the full one. Electricity skates across my skin at the strange boy’s touch, and my body trembles hitting every nerve ending all at once. I don’t recognize the guy holding me. Seriously, I don’t even care. If Drake can talk to those girls, then I can dance with this guy.
After I finish my fourth beer in one hour, my head spins from the mixture of alcohol and the lack of air in the room. I forgot to eat dinner. Go figure. My stomach churns, the chunks rising up the back of my throat. I’ve never been a good drinker, and without having any food in my stomach, I don’t feel so hot.
Sweat pours off us, our skin glistening under the dim lights. Everyone is grinding against each other, some girls screaming and moving like drunken lunatics. Any thoughts of Drake I push to the back of my mind. I don’t need him ruining my buzz.
When Shannon looks over at me, she raises her hands in the air, motioning for me to follow along. I mirror her moves and sway my hips back and forth to the music. We dance with each other, caught up in the techno beat cranking out from the speakers as the room begins to spin.
Oh, fuck. I wish I’d eaten something, anything. A cracker would have been better than nothing. My stomach can’t handle alcohol without an ample amount of carbs beforehand. Last time I felt like shit, Drake drove me to McDonald’s before he…
Ugh, stop thinking about him.
The cute boy with hazel eyes and light-brown hair digs his fingers into my side. I’m so out of it that I lean my head on his shoulder to catch my breath. Shockingly, he’s tall enough for me to do this. Most guys are the same height as me if I’m lucky. We stay that way for the next two songs until my mind drifts out of consciousness.
When I close my eyes, he steps back, and I stumble, breaking my fall on a set of rock-hard abs. I try to escape when I see Drake and his muscular arms wrapped around me.
“You okay?” Drake whispers in my ear, his voice so deep and smooth it sends a shiver down my arms. “You don’t look so hot.”
I shake my head. “Thanks a lot, Drakey.”
Am I a bitch for using his mom’s nickname for him? Maybe. But I’m so mad at him right now, I’m seeing double. Or is that because of the beer that’s clearly gone to my head? Dammit. This is why I don’t drink that often.
He grits his teeth. “You look like you’re gonna be sick is all I meant. Otherwise, you look fucking hot.” His eyebrow curves up. “Okay?”