Page 7 of You Were Never Not Mine

Elise starts coughing, drawing the attention of pretty much everyone in this house, and all I can do is stand there, patting her on the back awkwardly, sending an apologetic smile at everyone staring, and they all look away from us. Some of them roll their eyes. A few of them even laugh. At Elise. At us.

I don’t like any of them. This house—this fraternity—sucks.

“We should leave,” I tell my friend once she’s composed herself. “This isn’t our type of party.”

“No, see that’s where you’re wrong. I think it’s definitely your type of party considering you know everyone here. I’m the sore thumb who stands out.” Elise sets her glass on a nearby end table, wiping her hands together.

“I don’t really know them. I just knowofthem. That’s a big difference.” I very much kept to myself at Lancaster Prep and never really felt like I belonged there. It doesn’t help when the most popular, influential Lancaster calls you out for your flaws and harasses you for a solid year.

“Hey, are you okay?” A tall, golden-haired god is standing at Elise’s side, his hand on her elbow, his voice full of concern as is his expression. His cheekbones are sharp and his jaw square and it appears he’s been carved out of granite. “Do you need any help?”

I’m about to tell him to leave us alone but then I catch the starstruck look on Elise’s face and the way her eyelashes flutter. “The drink—it was just—so strong.”

“Ah, whiskey will do that to you. Would you like something else to drink?” His tone is gentle, as is the glow in his hazel eyes, and I press my lips together so I don’t say anything to ruin the moment. I don’t know him at all. His face isn’t familiar, and I can tell Elise is struck dumb by his good looks and attentive ways. I get it, I do.

“Do you have any Trulys?” she asks as he steers her away from me and they both start to walk.

“No, but we’ll find something you might like.” He sounds amused at her Truly question. I watch them go, about to trail after them because I don’t want to be left alone in this house and I know Elise wouldn’t mind.

But then a strange feeling spreads over my skin, making every hair on my body stand on end. Someone’s watching me.I can tell. And while it’s the tiniest bit creepy, there’s also something intriguing about it. Who’s watching me? Is he as handsome as the man who just basically swept Elise off her feet?

Slowly I turn in the direction where I think the person watching me is standing, anticipation making my movements slow. I lift my head, my gaze searching, landing on the last face I expected to see.

August Lancaster.

Seriously?

We stare at each other from across the room. He’s sitting on one of those plush couches, his curious gaze locked on me. He doesn’t appear disgusted by my appearance, which throws me a little because I’m not used to him studying me with…God, what is that? Interest?

No freaking way.

His gaze shifts, raking over me slowly, taking me in and for the briefest, strangest moment, I…I like it. My skin tingles everywhere his gaze lands and when it finally returns to mine, I see it. A flicker in those familiar blue eyes that my body automatically responds to with an unfamiliar, clenching sensation between my thighs.

I’m captivated by his attention, my lips parting, my nipples actually hardening behind my bra and I stand a little taller, pushing my hair over my shoulder so it’s trailing down my back. Drift my hand down my front like I’m…what? Some sort of seductress set out to entice August Lancaster? The bully of my high school life? The horrible boy who made my life absolute torture?

Clearly, I’ve lost my mind.

A huff leaves me as I turn on my heel and start walking. Fast. I’m disgusted by my response to him. I have no business thinking that way. He’s horrible. A menace. A goddamn monster if I’m being truthful so what the hell was that reactionI had? Is there a secret part of me who wants to be accepted by him? Do I want him to find me attractive?

Maybe. And God, it kills me to even contemplate that thought.

I’m not even paying attention to where I’m going as I move through the cavernous house, my vision blurry. My thoughts hazy. All I can think about is that I need to leave. Get out of here and get away from this boy—man—who would most likely toy with me to get what he wanted and then leave me in the gutter somewhere out in the cold. All alone and crying over him yet again.

Ugh, my thoughts are dramatic and ridiculous. I can’t help it.

I blindly push past a cluster of people, then another, ignoring the way one of the girls snaps, “Hey!” when I barely run into her.

“Sorry,” I mutter, coming to a brief stop so I can polish off the rest of the liquor that’s in the glass I’m still holding. I drink it all in one swallow, ignoring the burn in my throat and waiting for the warmth to coat my stomach, which happens in seconds. Giving me the comfort and the absolute strength that I need to get the hell out of this house and away from August.

I spot the front door that we just walked through only minutes before. It’s heavy and darkly stained, with a small square window that’s covered in two strips of hammered iron. Looks like something straight out of medieval times and I wonder just how old this stupid house is. I’m reaching for the door handle when I hear a voice. The voice.

His voice.

“In a hurry?”

It’s deep and settles all over me like syrup poured on my skin, sweet and sticky and stopping my progress completely. Hanging my head, I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly before I turn to face him. My nemesis.

The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

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