Page 2 of Bratty Badboys

“Whatever.” Aaron rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you slept with someone who had a vagina?”

“Aw, why are all the hot dudes gay?” Sydney, the red-haired, whined, before downing a glass of fruity cocktail.

I stared at Aaron, waiting for him to say something. He shrugged. “It’s like a wild hunt out here. Everyone is on a hunt to find someone to have a fling with. Even the couples. It’s like I’m hosting a swingers’ party and not?—”

His fiancé squeezed his hand and kissed Aaron’s cheek, whispering something in his ear. I tightened my hold on the flute and took another sip. I couldn’t wait to get hit with the buzz. I forced a small smile when they were called to meet the other guests and went upstairs.

People whispered behind me, and it was something I was used to wherever I went. I emptied another flute of champagne, eating hors d’oeuvre.

“I saw you talk to Aaron.”

I turned around to see a man with blond and grey hair in a suit. He was shorter than me and, by the off-putting smile, I knew he hated looking up at me.

Oh, how lovely.

I smirked. “He’s my ex.”

His face turned into distaste before making it neutral. I scoffed at him and was about to walk away from the uptight prick before he opened his mouth again and said, “He never talked about an ex.”

I deadpanned. “Do I look like I care?”

“If you don’t, then you shouldn’t be here to celebrate my son’s?—”

“Felix! An has been trying to find you!” A woman came up to him, giving me a rushed smile and glaring at him. “Where are the gift packets she asked to bring?”

Oh, so the lovely ray of sunshine was Felix Martinez. Aaron’s father and a prick from what little he talked about his family with me. He was a bit religious and didn’t like how Aaron was gay and dating (fucking) me. If it wasn’t for his mother, he would have never opened about liking men to his parents.

I was grateful that my dad, Cillian, was cooler than his and embarrassingly took me out for drinks and tried to be a wingman with every handsome man we came across.

“I’m Katie, Aaron’s aunt,” the woman introduced herself. “Please ignore Felix. He is…”

“A jerk?”

Her brows raised, a small smile appearing on her face.

“I’m Caleb, his ex.”

“Oh,” she pursed her lips and showed me an empty table. “I think your table is empty, but you will have guests sitting with you at the wedding. Dinner will start soon.”

I thanked her, watching the guests mingle. I thought Aaron had a huge family, but there was a palpable hint of loneliness when the few guests navigated through the expansive space. Either I was reading too much into it or not everyone had accepted or acknowledged their love.

The hustle and laughter were getting to my head, so I stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the cold, fresh night air. I closed my eyes and looked up at the starless sky.

I couldn’t wait to get on my Peach again and ride for a few hours. I knew Aaron had arranged everyone’s stay at the hotel for his wedding tomorrow, and I still hadn’t decided if I’d stay or leave. Maybe I can sleep in?—

“I promise I’ll be there—yes, honey.”

My eyes snapped to the sultry deep voice, and my hold on the railing loosened as I checked her out. Long, shiny, dark hair hugged her curves. The deep blue dress stuck to her skin, looking modest yet hiding nothing. Goddess. I licked my lips. Pretty painted red lips and a button nose and a beauty mark under her left eye. Even in the dim candle lights, she looked like a starlet from an old Hollywood movie.

“Sure, hon. I’ll call—” her eyes moved to me when I walked towards her, crowding her personal space. Yes, see my eyebrow piercing and the one on my bottom lip. The one I wanted her to get personal with was on my tongue. She swallowed audibly as I flashed my charming smile and tilted my head. “I—I’ll call you later.”

She ended the call and met my eyes again. She had the loveliest shade of eyes I had ever seen. Green, blue, brown. It made my dick stir.

Seeing her face in the dim light coming from the long window glass of the hall, I knew I had seen her from somewhere.

“You’re the girl from Touch Down song by Mickey, right?” I asked, curious and embarrassingly excited.

Touch Down was the song while growing up. It was as famous as Baby by Justin Bieber. But it was more well-known, and the singer Mickey tried to woo a gorgeous girl in a mini denim skirt and red tube top. Everyone wanted to know who the model was with her lithe body full of curves and shiny belly button. Her small smile and doe eyes radiated a playful innocence. It was hard not to have a crush on her.

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