“It’d be my pleasure. Text me your address, and I’ll let you know what time I’ll be there.”
“Sounds good.” I slide into the driver’s seat and close the door, rolling down the window the instant the engine purrs to life.
“Be safe on your way home and try not to kill anyone before this evening.”
“I’ll do my best.” I smile up at him as I pop the car into drive.
Thank God for Pierce. He’s one of those people you can’t help but love. The kind of person you’re instantly drawn to. Good looking. Funny. Sweet. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without him this past week. He has been a bright light in an otherwise dark room.
On the drive home, I replay the events of the day over in my head. Starting with the altercation this morning, to Zayden shoving all my stuff off my desk, before ending with the milkshake fiasco. Well, at least I can say that my first week at the new school wasn’t boring.
I give myself a silent applaud for how well I’m handling all of this. Okay, I was a serious mess earlier, but I’m better now. I didn’t punch anyone or claw their eyes out, and I managed to slip out of the building before anything else could happen—so there’s that.
My thoughts drift back to Zayden. Oliver I understand. Well, I don’t really understand, but I guess I kind of do. He blames me for his dad’s actions because I’m the only person he can take it out on. Fine. It’s not okay, but whatever. But Zayden? I can’t help but wonder what he stands to gain from any of this. Is he really a bad guy, or is there something driving his actions—something behind the scenes that I’m not privy to?
I’ve dealt with assholes before. Jerks. Bullies. You name it, I’ve crossed paths with them all at one point or another. And while Zayden definit
ely rocks the bad boy persona, he doesn’t strike me as someone who would orchestrate a milkshake being poured on someone’s head.
Then again, maybe that’s just what I’m telling myself because that’s what I want to believe. I’m just not sure why that is.
ZAYDEN
TIPPING THE RED SOLO cup to my lips, I drain the rest of my beer. I lean back against the bar and cross my arms over my chest as I scan the room. We're all packed in here like a bunch of fucking sardines. Over half of the junior and senior class is here. How the hell anyone could think this is fun is beyond me.
I spot Oliver with his face buried in the neck of some chick he has pressed against the wall. I’m assuming it’s Patty, judging by the girl with huge tits at his back. His hips press against Patty’s, while her cousin, Double D, grinds against his ass. It's disgusting to watch. But that's Oliver for you. He's all about having a good time and making the girls happy.
Moving my eyes away from the threesome waiting to happen, I continue my perusal around the room. It's full of music, laughter, rich drunk girls vying for attention, and asshole guys who give it to them—whether they’re sober enough to receive it or not. These parties are always the same.
Her overwhelmingly scent hits me seconds before I feel her tits press against my side, her hand going to my lower stomach.
“Hey, Z baby,” Tiffany purrs in my ear.
I grit my teeth and fight the urge to rub said ear against my shoulder to wipe away the hot and wet breath she left behind. Instead, I turn and face her.
“How’s it going, Tiffany?”
Her red lips tip up, revealing a set of bright as fuck teeth. “Much better now that I’ve found you.”
“That so?” I ask, offering my signature smirk.
She inches her hand down until the tip of her fingers tuck into the waistband of my jeans. My dick twitches, but that’s about it, only mildly curious.
“It sure is.” She smiles bigger as her eyes grow hooded. “You wanna dance?”
I look out across the room. There’s hardly any walking room, let alone enough space to dance.
I glance back at Tiffany. “Maybe some other time.”
She pouts, and it makes her look ridiculous with her plump lips sticking out even more. Tiffany’s a smokin’ hot chick with long blonde hair, stunning blue eyes, and a killer body any guy would give his left nut to fuck. The package is nice, but the contents inside are questionable.
Of course, that questionable nature sure as hell comes in handy sometimes. I smirk when an image of Rylee with milkshake running down her face and hair comes to mind.
My smirk dies a sudden death when I remember seeing her as she left the bathroom with Charles. Her face was red, and while some of it was from her anger directed at Oliver and me, I knew some was from crying. I have no fucking clue why the thought of her crying bothers me. Whatever the reason may be, I shove that shit to the back of my mind. People like Rylee don’t deserve my sympathy.
Tiffany sidles up closer to me, practically melding her breasts into my side. “You wanna head upstairs then?”
I put some thought into it. Her teeth may be a bitch to deal with, but I bet her pussy would feel like heaven. Even so, by the lack of blood not rushing to my dick, he doesn’t appear to be that interested. Which lines up with the head between my shoulders, too. The thought is only slightly interesting. It surely isn’t as appealing as sandwiching myself between a certain pair of legs that belong to a girl with luscious brown hair and deceiving brown eyes.