Page 16 of The Boy Next Door
“Ididn’tbid on her!”
“Let me guess. Your credit card information just magically entered itself?” I shake my head. “This is just like that time you tried to glue the ballerina figurine my grandad gave me back together. After you broke it and lied about it!” The arms were put back in the wrong pose and his explanation to how that happened was that the devil must have possessed the figurine.
We were ten, and that scared the hell out of me.
“Look, why are you pissed?” he asks.
Is he serious? My pulse hammers in my ears as my blood pressure ratchets up. “Because...”Because you didn’t save me.“Because you...” I groan out of frustration. “You’re an ass.”
Again, the light turns green and we speed off, taking a hard right through the entrance of Letterman apartments. He pulls the bike onto the sidewalk in front of his apartment building and cuts the engine.
Music booms from the apartment above Evan’s. There’s already a crowd of people on the balcony, and Corey’s doing a keg stand, everyone cheering him on.
“Look”—Evan turns around on the bike—“be pissed all you want. It’s not what it looks like, I—”
“Well, Evan, I don’t know how it can be anythingbutwhat it looks like, and you know what? I don’t care. You want to fuck Daisy, go ahead, just don’t give me grief about doing something for charity when you’re just doing it to get your dick wet!” With that, I gracelessly climb off the bike, and storm toward the stairwell. Maybe I’m acting immature, but I’m pissed and emotional, and I don’t even care.
“Jesus...” he swears when I reach the second landing. “You are un-fucking-believable!”
“Go fuck yourself!” I shout before shoving past a few smokers standing in the doorway of Corey’s apartment. I head straight to the cooler in the kitchen and fill a cup with the disgusting pink concoction.
* * *
An hour later, I’m staring at the red Solo cup placed in the middle of the card table. I glare at Evan when I pick up the quarter. Every time I ring the cup, I make him drink, and every time he rings it, he makes me drink. So here we sit, buzzed and mad with this tension between us that’s about to do my head in.
I bounce the quarter over the tabletop, smirking when I ring it. “Go ahead, Ev. Drink up.” The group of people at the table cheer Evan on as he chugs the last of his beers. He crushes the can in his hand and drops it to the table with a dimpled grin. “That the best you can do, Em?”
My gaze veers from those dimples to his lips. As much as I hate him right now, I still have the urge to kiss them, bite them, have them between my thighs. “I hope you throw up...” I shoot a smart-ass smile in his direction before I push up from the table and make my way through the random partygoers.
A couple stands, lip-locked against the door to the breezeway. I clear my throat, but they’re too busy with each other to notice anything else, so I tap the guy’s shoulder. Their lips don’t even part, he just moves the girl to the side so I can open the door.
The cold autumn air stings my cheeks and my body tenses against the unexpected cold. Closing my eyes, I take a cleansing breath, and then I feel arms wrap around me from behind just before the familiar scent of Evan’s cologne surrounds me. “Stop it,” he whispers, the heat of his breath fanning over my throat. “I can’t stand when you’re like this.” His voice is a low rumble beside my ear, and my treacherous body reacts to it by melting into him. I hate being like this with him, but sometimes you have to settle for just enough instead of having it all.
“Don’t be mad.” He kisses my neck. As much as I want to hate him, I can’t deny how good it feels to have him hold me like this. As much as I want to bitch at him, right now, I just can’t.
“I’m not.”
“Lies...” His lip rolls over my neck, and I bite back a groan. “You’re mad at me, I can tell.”
“I’m not mad at you.” I attempt to shrug out of his hold.
“Nope.” His arms tighten across my chest. “I’m not letting you go.”
Our bodies are flush together, and all I can focus on is his dick against my ass. My cheeks heat, and before I realize what I’m doing, I find myself pushing back against him. A quiet chuckle works free from his chest. “If only...”
With that, he moves to my side and grabs my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “We need to talk.”
He pulls on my arm, and I stumble after him, both of us swaying a little from the alcohol. His apartment is only one floor below, but it’s just enough time for my imagination to run wild. I imagine stepping inside his apartment and having him shove me against the door, kissing me and tearing my clothes off. I imagine what he’d look like with his face between my thighs, what it would feel like to let him take me. Then I imagine him doing all those things with Daisy and my body tenses.
The hinges creak when he opens his door, and I flinch against the harsh fluorescent lights. He laughs before closing the door. “You’re cute drunk.”
“Cute is an insult, asshole. And I’m not drunk, I’m buzzed.”
“Oh.” He pinches me when he walks past me to the hallway. “Feisty tonight, huh?”
“Shut up.” I take a few steps before there’s a loud clap and a sharp sting on my ass.
“Ohhh, I bet that hurt.”
