Page 1 of Pumped

PROLOGUE

EIGHT YEARS AGO

EVEREST

Vegas, baby!

We’re at the blingy-est club I’ve ever stepped foot in, and we’ve got fuckingbottle service. Bachelor parties are the fucking best, and I’ve seriously gotta find myself more friends who are getting married.

Except, this isn’t my friend’s bachelor party. It’s my future brother-in-law’s, and he didn’t technically have to invite me. Jeremy’s cool, though. He’s super chill and even offered to pay for my trip without me asking. Don’t worry. He can afford it—he’s some fancy banker dude on Wall Street.

Me? I couch surf from one beach town to the next, searching for the next big wave. The whole staying in one place and holding down a job thing isn’t really for me. Who wants that kind of responsibility? Not this guy.

The other dudes in our group are alright. They’re all Jeremy’s friends from work or school. All older and loaded, which means I’ve barely had to pull out my wallet since we stepped off the plane.

The only guy here that I can’t fucking stand is Jeremy’s brother—Owen. See, even his name is so fucking pretentious.Owen, ugh. He’s uptight, arrogant, and just fucking rude. I don’t know what the hell I did to him, but Jesus, if looks could kill, I’d already be six feet under.

The fucked up thing is, the guy hates my guts, but at the same time, I keep catching him staring at me. Like, it’s not enough for us to just ignore each other for the weekend. Nope, he wants me to know that he hates me. He wants me tofeelhow much he hates me.

Like right now. In the middle of the club, the champagne’s flowing, everyone’s hyped up, the music is pumping, and we’re here tocelebrate! But Owen’s sitting in his little corner, glaring at me like it’s my fault he’s not having a good time. What-fucking-ever. His idea of a good time is probably sitting at home reading a fucking textbook.

About animal parts.Snort. Yeah, he’s in veterinarian school. Gonna be an animal doctor. He’s already got everyone calling him “Doctor Owen.”

Doctor Owen, my ass.

“Ev-er-est! Ev-er-est! Ev-er-est!”

I chug down the pint of beer and slam the heavy glass on the table in front of me. Jeremy and his friends explode into cheers as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I can feel the heat of Owen’s stare on the side of my face, like he’s trying to burn through my cheeks with his laser eyes. I ignore it and reach for another pint.

“Not so fast.” Jeremy grabs the glass from me. “I promised your sister I’d look after you.”

“What? It’s only my third pint!” I try to snatch the glass back, but he holds it out of my reach.

“Yeah, and the night is young. Besides, you’re only twenty-one.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, and I haven’t had a drop of alcohol before this,” I say, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jeremy pushes me toward the edge of the booth. “Go dance for a bit. Then come back and you can have another.”

I give him an unamused look. “And here I thought you were kinda cool.”

He laughs and takes a sip ofmybeer. “I respect your sister too much to care about cool.”

Well, fuck if that’s not sickeningly sweet. Ugh.

I let Jeremy shoo me out onto the dance floor. The music is thumping and the bass is so low and loud that the floor reverberates with each beat. I slip into the crowd, and the temperature rises a couple degrees with sweaty bodies pressing in on all sides. An arm brushes against mine, an ass presses against my hip, a pair of boobs graze my back.

Someone drags a hand down my front, but in the flashing lights of the club, it’s hard to see who it is. Another hand palms my ass cheek, but it’s there and gone so quickly, I barely have time to turn my head.

Blood pumps through my veins in time with the music and my head grows a little fuzzy with the high. I raise my hands into the air and drop my head back, letting out a whoop as the beat drops and the dance floor erupts.

The entire time, I can feel the steady, unwavering focus of a pair of eyes on me. The hair at the back of my neck lifts and goosebumps break out across my skin. It’s fucking creepy, the way he watches me like he wants to hunt me down and—I don’t know—tear me apart or something. And yet, there’s something tempting about it, like a giant wave I know is too dangerous, but I’ll still paddle out on the off chance I’ll be able to ride it, to tame it.

The spotlight tracks around the club and for a split second, it lands on Owen. He’s sitting at the edge of the booth, one anklepropped up on the opposite knee. A glass tumbler is balanced in one hand and the opposite arm is slung across the back of the booth. His eyes are shaded, but I know they’re trained on me. His lips are pressed into a straight line. Arrogance pours off him, fueling this strange itch that’s been growing inside me.

It’s like there’s something restless expanding in my chest, reaching out through my arms and down into my legs. It’s pressing on my insides, seeping into every nook and cranny, looking for a way out. It’s weird. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and honestly, I’m not sure I like it.

The spotlight swings across the spot where Owen’s sitting, except now the booth is empty. He’s not there anymore. He’s gone.

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