Ugly girl

Maze and I barge through the bodies and I let out a sigh. While most people have shuffled out of our way, there’s still hardly any room and I still end up with sore shoulders from having to barge my way past.

We break out into the open living space and I glance around. There’s a bit more room to breathe here, but after glancing out the back window to where bodies are crammed into the backyard, I realize we have it good.

Music blasts through the surround sound system and rattles the walls and I find myself starting to let my body move. Don’t get me wrong, I need a few shots of liquid courage pumping through my veins before I’m able to let go and really dance, but for now, this is good.

Maze and I find a table set up with all sorts of drinks and I let my gaze wander over it. Hmmm, seems we have an alright selection available for the taking. I grab the bottle of Tequila off the table and Maze reaches for the shot glasses. I shake my head. “Nah, that’s not how we’re rolling tonight.”

She grins as we walk away from the table with my fingers curled securely around the neck of the bottle. Maze takes the Tequila from me and starts uncapping the lid. “Let me show you around this place,” she yells over the music. “Damian’s got a pretty sick setup.”

I nod, not wanting to have to yell over the music. Maze starts leading me around while we take turns swigging from the bottle. She shows me his house and I briefly wonder how she knows all the ins and outs of his home when I realize that I don’t actually care.

We step out into the back yard and instantly get a face full of cigarette smoke from the douchebags on the football team. We squeeze our way through them and after nailing some dickhead in the guts for grabbing Maze’s ass, we make it out into the fresh air.

The pool looks like a mess of bodies and flamingoes while there are clothes thrown all over the lawn. I spy Slade out of the corner of my eye and he instantly has my full attention.

God, I hate him.

He sits up on the railing of the upstairs deck, looking out over the party. He doesn’t see me as he’s far too busy with the girl standing between his legs, a girl who is certainly not Nessa but from the way Nessa looks up at him from the pool, there’s going to be issues that’ll keep him busy, not allowing him a chance to worry about tormenting me.

Jealousy courses through me.

What the actual fuck?

I steal the bottle of Tequila from Maze and throw it back. “Right,” I tell her, pulling her back toward the house. “Let’s get fucked up.”

----------

I stand in the middle of the dancefloor, throwing my head back onto the shoulder of…fuck, who is this again? Who cares? All I know is that as his lips press down on my neck and his hand slowly circles my waist then dips into the top of my pants, it feels fucking incredible. Intoxicating. And fuck, he smells good.

Music pulses through me and right now, that’s all that matters. I lost Maze hours ago after Blake showed up and for a good part of the night, I assumed they were together but when I caught Blake in the bathroom eating out Kathleen Harris, I realized I’d never be the same. Seeing your little brother thinking he’s some kind of big man…ugh. It’s one thing to hear about it but to actually see it? I’m pretty sure I joined them in there while I hurled my guts up. Blake thought it was fucking hilarious but I get the feeling that Kathleen didn’t quite agree. I’m really going to have to have a chat with that boy about the company he keeps.

Wait. Maze? Where the hell is Maze?

Fingers squeeze my waist. Oh well, I’m sure Maze is fine.

My ass grinds back into the guy as his hand travels dangerously low, following my lead. Damn, that’s good. Why do I have to be so fucked up? If only I had the ability to shut the past out, I’d be upstairs in one of those many bedrooms letting him deal with the ache that’s been steadily building between my legs.

My skin grows clammy with sweat but it doesn’t stop our bodies from moving together, if anything, it makes it all that much better.

The guy’s head suddenly pulls up from my neck and I crane my head to find out why the hell he’d dare stop. As my eyes raise over his strong jawline, I swallow a gasp. Shit, I’ve been dancing with Damian. I’m a fucking idiot.

I don’t know if he’s dancing with me purely to get in my pants, if he’s too drunk to even realize it’s me, or if he just wants to fuck with me and got carried away when he felt my ass press up against his dick. Whatever it is, it’s stopped now and my body is craving the touch.

His hands don’t leave my body, nor does he stop moving, but something has his attention, and damn it, I need to know what.

I follow his gaze across the room and there he is. Slade Cruz, staring right at us, taking in Damian’s hand on my body, the way I grind back into him, and I sure as hell know that he sees the euphoria on my face.

Hunger fills his eyes and I find myself putting on a show. I move my hips, roll my body, and tilt my head, offering myself up to Damian who takes the bait.

The hunger intensifies and as Damian reacts to my touch and presses his lips back to my neck, a darkness clouds Slade’s gaze. Confusion filters through his eyes and I realize it’s the same damn confusion that’s baffled me since day one. He wants me, but he wants to hate me more, and the thought of Damian having me, makes him want to fuck things up, but one thing is for sure, he will never have me.

A smirk lifts the corner of my lips and I bring the near-empty bottle of Tequila to my mouth and take a long, hard drink.

Slade tears his eyes from mine and I feel myself struggling to breathe. Why do I allow him to have this intense effect over me? He stalks away but Damian is quick to take over the need that Slade left pulsing within me. “Fuck,” he rumbles. “He’s going to have my balls for this.”

I turn in Damian’s arms and he doesn’t once let his lips move from my neck. “Why?”

He shakes his head and wordlessly makes it clear that this conversation is over, but I don’t really care. Well, at least, I shouldn’t. Why should it matter what Slade does to Damian and his reasons why? It’s got nothing to do with me…or maybe it does? I don’t know but I don’t want their bullshit to kill my buzz and from the way Damian keeps his body moving against mine, neither does he.

We finish off the bottle and after the very last drop is gone, the bottle gets tossed over Damian’s shoulder, not caring what the hell happens to it. A preppy blonde steps into view and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out as she watches her play toy messing around with someone else.

“Uh-oh,” I say, digging my elbow back into Damian’s ribs as Rachel stands before us, fuming at the sight of his hands on my body and the love bites that are most likely covering my neck and shoulders. “You’re in trouble.”

Rachel starts making her way toward us as Damian glances up and scrunches his face in irritation. “Fuck her, she’s just a little fun,” he tells me, slipping his hand into mine and pulling me through the crowd of grinding bodies. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

Any other time, I’d probably say no, but I’m having far too much fun with him. He’s easily made me forget the bullshit from my past and all the Slade drama, though, that could have something to do with the bottle of Tequila currently sitting in the bottom of my stomach.

We scale the stairs and we crack into laughter as Damian tumbles over one and nearly falls on his face. He catches himself and grins back at me, proud that he was able to remain upright.