Tryst Page 12

  I roll my eyes, knowing I need to get out of this conversation.

  “I think he likes you,” Tucker blurts out.

  The memory of hearing how Blake tossed Heather aside like trash comes unbidden to my mind, but does it matter? I don’t want commitment anyway.

  “I’ll meet you at your apartment, Tuck.”

  His disapproving expression is back in a flash. “Are you going to wait around at my place for the next few hours?”

  I shake my head, ready to swivel around in the opposite direction.

  “Then where are you going?”

  I let out a sigh, rolling my eyes yet again, feeling like a giant joke, even to myself.

  “Shopping.”

  Before the annoying jingle signals my departure, he shouts, “Attagirl!”

  What the hell am I doing?

  Chapter 16

  Who knew I would be so nervous entering my own home. I watch Tucker take a surprisingly large drag of his cigarette, but a coughing fit ensues.

  I roll my eyes, trying to hide my smirk. “Tucker, I told you that habit doesn’t suit you.”

  He heaves in a gulp of fresh air before trying a smaller pull from his newfound habit.

  “I know, but the cute guy who works at the bookstore across the street from the café always goes on a smoke break every thirty minutes. It would be nice to have a reason to join him.”

  I’m tempted to tell him he could take up reading rather than smoking, but the thought seems futile.

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  He raises a brow as he eyes me. “Not as ridiculous as you are. I thought when you said you where going shopping that you were going to buy something hot. Your hipster button-up and jeans combo bores me. I thought the goal was to make Blake want you?”

  “I never said that.” I pout as I pull down my tight, dark green plaid shirt, and fiddle with the sleeves that are rolled up to my elbows.

  I guess I know what I implied to Tucker, but when I was perusing the small tight dresses, I realized they weren’t me. I can be sexy being me, can’t I? If I showed up in a short tube dress, it would be asking for too much attention—the wrong type of attention. I didn’t want that. I wanted Blake’s attention, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted it in a respectful manner. If I bought a dress showing off some skin, I would be no better than the girls he takes home. I didn’t want to be the same.

  I know there is no explaining this to Tucker, though. He is the give ’em all, or not at all type, and that is not how I want to play this game.

  Tucker has given up on his cigarette, and he flicks the practically untouched butt into the darkness of the street. “I don’t even know why people smoke. It tastes so gross.”

  I laugh, glad he’s dropping the topic of Blake. The idea of seeing him is nerve-racking enough, let alone entering a party where I worry only five people will show. I don’t have that many friends. Who would show up to my party?

  The thought is staggering.

  “Tucker, I don’t want to go.”

  Standing curbside about a block away from my house, he furrows his brows, grabs for my arms, and pulls me down the road.

  “Skyler, you have to go to your birthday party.”

  I reluctantly follow.

  “What if no one shows?”

  Tucker stops midstep to face me. “I’m sure the people who matter will be there.”

  I want to ask, “And who would that be?” but he has already begun his strides with me in tow, and within far too short of time, I am approaching my front door.

  The sight feels unfamiliar, but maybe that’s because the cars jam-packed into the driveway and the surrounding area startles me.

  Tucker peers at his watch, then back at the door, grinning wide.

  “We are right on schedule. Time for us to go inside.”

  I clench my jaw, noting there is a humming sound of bass coming from inside, and I cannot help the yank that happens as I pull my hand free of Tucker’s grasp.

  “I don’t want to go inside.”

  Tucker swivels around, and his expression is soft and sincere. He takes a step toward me and fluffs my hair, holding back a smile.

  “Your hair looks amazing, at least.”

  I roll my eyes and fiddle with my long, loose black locks. “Complimenting me on my hair is not going to make me want to go inside.”

  He grins. “But you do look a little hot tonight, even with your less than sexy outfit. I see what you are trying to do here.” He flutters his fingers over the large opening at my cleavage, and I swat his hand away, holding back my smile.

  “Tucker!”

  He raises his hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay, but truthfully, you do at least look cute. Happy now?”

  I find it odd that the word “cute” is not satisfying, so all I offer is a shrug.

  “Can we go inside now?” he asks.

  I chew my lip, take in a deep breath, and tug down my shirt. “Only if I have to.”

  “You have to. Come on. And who knows, Skye, you might actually have fun at this party.”

  His knock seems ridiculous since I live here, but soon after, he opens the door and walks inside.

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” erupts from the living room as I enter, and its loudness shocks me because it’s coming from a packed room.

  At least thirty, maybe more, people have filled the small, swanky town house, and all of them are staring at me.

  I didn’t realize I had this many friends. Applause starts while hoots and hollers are heard from the crowd in reaction to my shocked state. I try heaving in a leveling breath, perusing the crowd for familiar faces, and I notice a lot. Some from my soccer team, friends from work, even some people from campus, along with Rich and my brother leading the cavalry.

  How the hell did Blake manage this? And why is he nowhere in sight?

  I speak too soon.

  I see that penetrating stare weaving through the crowd toward me, and when he flashes his heart-stopping grin, it has me smiling, too.

  My face heats with embarrassment. My eyes dart to my proud brother, who is clapping among the chattering crowd. As soon as Blake walks past him, Josh joins him. Both worlds come colliding together, and now, with the both of them mere feet away, I cannot stop fidgeting with my shirt.

  “Happy birthday, Skye. I think we should start this party right,” Blake says.

  “Keg stand,” my brother demands. All eyes are on me.

  “A-a what?” I sputter.

  Cheers erupt from the crowd, and an odd burning sensation begins at my elbow. My eyes dart to my arm. Blake has taken hold of me, pulling me toward the kitchen.

  “C’mon, Skyler,” he goads. “I think it’s about time you had a bit of fun, don’t you think?”

  I cannot restrain my wry expression. I get the sinking feeling that his words hold a double meaning, and his core-tingling laughter is proof.

  I laugh too, and my smile feels genuine. I’m kind of excited. Not only because of Blake’s attention, but also at the sudden realization that this is my birthday party and I can do whatever the hell I want.

  “A keg stand?” I rephrase my question, eyeing my brother and his best friend as we make it to a large beer-filled keg sitting right outside our open patio door.

  “Bottoms up, little sister!”

  Before I can form a rebuttal, I hear Tucker snickering behind me. “I’ll grab one of her legs!”

  “You’ll what?” I retort.

  Blake catches my attention, placing himself behind the keg, holding the spout in his left hand, and Josh and Tucker take strategic stances on either side of me.

  “Now, Skyler, grab onto either side of the keg. Have you ever done a keg stand before?”

  I feel like this is a test of my hipster-cool level, and unfortunately I rate a negative five on that scale. My nerdiness oozes out as I bashfully reply, “No, I haven’t.”

  I’m tempted to ask him how I’m supposed to fit in parties and keg stands whil
e trying to achieve a career in medicine, but now is not the time.

  He smirks, and I find his lips, which are curled upward, tempting. I don’t even have a bit of alcohol in me yet.

  “I’m going to put this in your mouth when Josh and Tucker lift your legs over your head, and then you’re going to drink. Now grab the keg.”

  He is definitely laughing at me. I want to ask them if I could start a bit slower, but soon more cheers erupt from the crowd behind me, and my brother chimes in.

  “C’mon, Skye. Time to party!”

  I shift my body to face him. “Are you sure about this?”

  He grins wide. “Make me proud.”

  I laugh, dumbfounded at his words, but it helps me let the tension I was feeling before go. I put all I’ve got into having a good time as I turn back around to face Blake, placing a hand on each side of the keg.

  I think all or nothing as I reply, “I’m ready.”

  Before I know it, both Tucker and Josh lift my legs above me, causing me to vise grip the chilled keg. I wonder what kind of beer it is. I hope that it’s easy on my taste buds and stomach.

  I let out a small squeal as the blood rushes to my head, and Blake leans in close. My eyes sink closed, basking in his wonderful smell of soap and musky cologne.

  “Here you go, Skye.” His voice is warm, seductive even.

  He pumps the keg a few times before holding the spout to my lips, and the frothy liquid hits my mouth.

  I chug.

  I chug as if my life depends on it. As funny as it sounds, I make the decision right then, as the blood rushes to my head, the alcohol slamming my stomach as it pushes against the rules of gravity, churning upward into my gut, that I am going to let go and have a damn good time.

  It’s my party and I’ll cr—okay, well, I won’t cry if I want to, but that’s not the point.

  I don’t know how long I let myself chug, but after a while, my body tells me I’ve had enough. I shake my head from the spout, which signals to the boys behind me to lower my legs.

  Blake is grinning as we lock eyes; the pull is there again. Electricity buzzes through my veins, and I wipe away the droplets of beer on my chin. I feel dizzy as I stare, unsure if I should blame it on the keg stand or the sex on a stick in front of me.

  My brother grabs my shoulder, whipping me around, breaking our eye contact.

  “Now let’s level that out with a shot, shall we?”

  I have no time to argue as my sibling drags me into our kitchen, where Rich is waiting, shots prepared.

  “Shouldn’t I let the beer settle?” I stutter as I eye the amber liquid in the small glasses.

  Josh shrugs, holding back laughter. “Naaahhh.”

  He grabs for the shot glasses, handing one to me. Then Blake, Tucker, and Rich join in.

  I heave in a deep breath, eyeing all the important men in my life, and I’m baffled by the whole experience. My worlds are crashing together and I hope the reaction isn’t like an atom bomb.

  My brother leads the crowd, raising his shot into the air, and everyone follows suit, including me, though my hands might be a bit shakier than the rest, and I refuse to identify who’s hand is sitting at the small of my back.

  “Happy birthday, Sprout! Bottoms up!”

  We clink glasses and bring the liquor to our lips. I worry that it will taste awful, but on the contrary, the amber liquid hits my senses smoothly and warms my throat, like melting caramel. It’s delicious.

  I pull the glass from my mouth and no sputtering comes after. Rich is holding the slender bottle of whatever delicious alcohol I had. I wave my finger at the empty glass, signaling more, and his mouth arches upward as he obeys my command.

  A reassuring hand comes to my shoulder, and I hear my brother shout, “Attagirl.”

  I realize that maybe this is the fun I have been missing out on all along. For reassurance, I look for Tucker, who is at my side. His face is rosy from his shot, but he looks beyond pleased. I want to ask him why he looks so smug, but before I know it, round two has already begun.

  I slug that one quickly and find a sense of urgency to dance as my skin tingles from the booming bass reverberating around the room.

  As if on cue, Jennifer emerges from the crowd.

  “Please tell me I did not miss shots?”

  I eye her, and I’m jealous that she can look hot in a simple tank top and jeans. I worry I’m not as successful in my attempt.

  I open my mouth to respond, but my brother beats me to it.

  “Yeah, you did. Where’s Vanessa?”

  The question startles me, and my mouth, already fueled by liquid courage, sputters, “Did you just ask where Vanessa is?”

  At least Josh has the decency to look embarrassed.

  Jennifer grabs my wrist, probably sensing a possible sibling-induced tantrum. “C’mon, Skye, let’s dance!”

  She has my full attention now as I whip around to squeal, “Dancing!”

  A giggle emerges from Jennifer’s bright red lips. “I gotta start you out with shots more often. I usually can never get you to dance.”

  “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

  She raises a shocked brow as we move toward the music. “Is that so?” She seems to approve.

  I notice that the couches and table have disappeared, and the living room is wide open, filled with throngs of people dancing to the electronic music blaring from the surround sound speakers. It isn’t until a boy my age with striking blond hair and hazel eyes approaches me to wish me a happy birthday that I realize that maybe half of the people in the room I know, but the other half I don’t.

  “Happy birthday, Skyler. Great party.”

  I nod my thanks, grinning wide as he goes back to chatting up a girl I also don’t recognize. I think she might be in my chemistry class. Regardless, everyone has drinks in their hand and is having a good time, bobbing to the music resonating through the room.

  Jennifer is already swinging her hips to the beat, and the smile that melts its way across my face is unrecognizable. For the first time in possibly my entire life, I want to dance. I join her, swaying to the beat, raising my arms upward, feeling the alcohol burning through my veins in an exhilarating way.

  “Skye, you look like you’re actually having fun!” Jennifer quips from beside me.

  “I am,” I reply.

  I let my eyes scan the room, look back toward the kitchen, and see my world colliding again. My brother is already talking to Vanessa, but they are joined by Tucker and Blake. What could they possibly be talking about?

  I stare too long, because before I know it, Blake catches me staring. He smiles devilishly when we lock eyes, making my knees go weak. My stomach does a somersault, and I flush with embarrassment, swiveling my body the opposite direction. My nerves are too much for me to dissect, and I make a mental note to avoid him. I can’t do it, at least not tonight. Not when there is an audience.

  Scaring me to death, a firm grasp curves around my waist, and I shriek at the contact, almost positive that Blake decided to make a meal out of my nerves. When I turn around I realize it isn’t him, but Rich.

  My smile feels like Jell-O at the sight of him, kind of like my limbs. A selfish bitch seems to be making herself at home in my psyche, like a hermit crab would with a new seashell. I wonder how long she’ll stick around as I bask in Rich’s freely given attention. With Rich, I don’t have to hide. Hell, people think we’re dating anyway.

  My gut twists in protest at my newfound view on life, but I ignore it.

  “Happy birthday, Skyler.” His tone hints at something more, and my lips gleefully twitch.

  Remembering at least some of my wits, I do two things. I look behind me to Jennifer, whose lush lips are twisted wryly, but her eyes tell me she doesn’t approve of what I’m doing, knowing full well what kind of baggage Rich comes with. Then I find myself darting my eyes to the back of the room, and sure enough, Blake’s eyes are on me. He doesn’t look pleased, but like Jennifer, he has a lingering smirk.
That familiar blush heats over the surface of my skin.

  I have to look away. I shake his stare off, thinking not tonight, Blake, as I smile at Rich.

  “Thank you!”

  He has a cup in each hand, and raises a full one toward me.

  “Figured you needed a drink in hand. The night has only begun.”

  I don’t refuse the beverage, realizing it is brimming with beer. I sip it. “It seems that everyone is trying to get me drunk.”

  He leans in closer, placing a quick kiss against my lips. “I just like to see you relax.”

  “Hmm, I’m well on my way.” I reward myself with a large gulp, trying to hide my shock.

  He chuckles. “I can see that.”

  His grin isn’t anything short of spectacular, and I realize I want more, but reflexively, I shoot my eyes to the back of the room in search of Blake. However, he isn’t anywhere to be seen.

  My gut tightens in disappointment, and I’m in an internal panic at my reaction. I try to convince myself it’s a good thing Blake has vanished, and repeat a mental mantra of not tonight, as I give Rich my attention.

  “Dance with me.”

  “I think I have a lot of making up to do in that department, don’t I?”

  I let out a chortle of laughter, remembering his curbside puking incident only a week ago.

  “That you do.” I bring the red cup to my lips, chugging the rest of my beer.

  The moment Rich’s hands come around my waist, bringing me closer, I hold back my reflexive twitch of scanning the room for the billionth time for an intense emerald gaze, but to my dismay, it’s nowhere to be found.

  I try my damnedest to focus on dancing with Rich, but all I want is another drink.

  Chapter 17

  Seeking out a quiet moment among the chaos, I stumble down the hallway, the music sounding only slightly fainter as I make it to the bathroom. I step inside, shutting and locking the door behind me. The music is muted, but it does offer a sense of peace.

  I don’t know how much time has passed, but I know that my grin has been permanently plastered to my face the entire night. However, I’m kind of exhausted.

  Can you be exhausted from having too much fun? I wouldn’t know.