Page 9 of Exrated
“Oh, come on, you’re on a TV show for kids now. Plenty to catch up on.” He smirks and it makes me loathe him even more.
“No, there’s not.”
“You’re still mad at me, I see.”
“Oh, so sure of ourselves, huh? Fuck off, Tyler.”
“We were kids, Jemma. I didn’t mean to hurt you, you know?
I walk away, and he’s right behind me.
“Tyler, I have nothing for you.”
I head toward the dancefloor, and he grabs my hand. “Where you going?” he asks.
“I told you. To my friend.”
“The friend you were dancing with?” He smiles and nods to the end of the bar. “Isn’t that her over there?” I follow his gaze to the side of the room to find Heather snuggled up to the blond guy she was dancing with earlier.
“Yeah,” I groan. “That’s her.”
“Well, guess what? That guy wrapped around her waist—that’s my roommate.”
Of course, it is. Huffing, I make my way toward her, Tyler’s still right behind me. Tyler’s apparent roommate arches his brows, nodding as his gaze veers down to Heather. “You ‘bout ready to head home,” he asks.
“Uh, yeah…sure,” Tyler says rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.
Heather grins. “He’s pretty, Jemma,” she slurs, looking at Tyler. “And guess what? They are roommates.”
“I know,” I groan.
Tyler walks past me as Heather pushes away from the roommate and stumbles over to me. Placing her hand on my shoulder, she leans in close to my face. “That guy is hot enough that if I fuck him, it doesn’t make me a whore, right?”
“What?”
She puts her nose inches from mine, her eyes slightly crossing. “He’s hot enough that it cancels out the whore in me, right?”
I back away from the smell of alcohol permeating the air and take a quick once over of the guy. Tall, built, blond; total Hollister model material. “Yeah, sure.”
“Good,” she smiles. “I’ll fuck him, you fuck the other one, and we can be non-sluts together.”
“Um…” My eyes find Tyler at the bar with his roommate. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“No, sex is so uncomplicated, Jemma. It’s a basic animal instinct.”
“Right and—”
Before I can finish my sentence, a shot glass is shoved in front of my face. “Body shots and then we leave,” the roommate says, winking at Heather and me.
“It’s better with lime,” Tyler says. I turn to find him smiling and holding up a lime wedge.
“I’m not leaving with you,” I argue.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re drunk.”
