Page 1 of West Bound

PROLOGUE

VIVIAN

11 years ago

“Power & Control” - MARINA and the Diamonds

“Chug, chug, chug!” Chants from rowdy frat boys and college athletes ring out across the backyard. Bodies are packed shoulder to shoulder as we celebrate the start of Spring Break.

My best friends Camille, CeCe and I are attempting to do something that resembles dancing while making sure we don’t spill a drop of beer, but it’s near almost impossible as we're being bounced around like a steely ricocheting in a pinball machine.

“This is ridiculous. I can’t even hear what you’re saying. Let’s go.” I try shouting over the booming bass of the song, but I can tell that CeCe and Cami can’t hear me because all they say is, “yeah. Totally.”

I knew that a second attempt would fail, so I tugged on their arms and pulled them through the throng of drunk co-eds.

“Dude, why are you yanking my arm.” CeCe pulls her arm from my grip once we make it to the spot furthest from the speaker that’s blasting music.

“I am losing my damn voice from screaming at you two. And I’m tired of being bounced around by the Butabi brothers.” I spot a trash can and chuck my half full beer bottle. “Shit.” I miss.

“Then don’t scream,” CeCe shrugs and gives me that wide eyed head shake. “What’s your deal? Not even Cam is being mom tonight.”

“Hey!” Cami protests. “I take offense.”

CeCe shrugs her off and moves on to scanning the faces of the available men, surely looking for a willing victim.

I, on the other hand, am tired from our long drive to the beach house. My ears are ringing, my body is sticky from sweat, and my feet hurt from wearing these stupid wedges CeCe convinced me to wear. Earlier I slipped on some red, lacy thong underwear and matching bra in case I “got lucky” as Cami put it, but now I’m regretting it because one; I am in no mood to do anything other than sleep, and two; these things are riding so far up my ass crack that I’ll have to send in the troops to dig them out.

I try to wiggle the butt floss loose and get a nudge from Cami. “Looks like your reason to stay is here.” She nods her chin in the direction of the doors and there I see him, strolling in with the confidence of a god.

Phoenix West.

Baseball hottie.

Star of my every fantasy.

The guy I’m dying to give my v-card to.

I stare at him in a complete trance. His warm skin is like melted caramel, and his dark brown eyes are hypnotizing. He smacks backs and bro hugs people as he makes his way through the crowd and as if on queue, Jay-Z’s Run This Town comes blaring through the speakers. Seems like a fitting theme song since he and his crew definitely run their college town.

From the corner of my eye, I see Cami bounce happily on her toes before she lunges for Bishop as he strides up next to Phoenix.

“Cami girl! How ya doin’ beautiful?” Bishop wraps Cam in a tight hug and I see her eyes glisten with unshed happy tears.

It’s been a few months since we last saw Bishop Michaels, and he and Cami were always closest. Well, they were until her high school boyfriend, Vaughan McCallan, decided to turn into a lying, cheating, no good dirtbag and break our girls heart.

It took the force of all things holy to convince her to join us this year. She missed out on our freshman year spring break because she was nursing her shattered heart and couldn’t be bothered to do much more than attend classes and maybe eat a meal or two. The only reason she is with us this year is because Bishop pleaded and laid on the guilt trip thick when he said he missed his bestie, and couldn’t stand to see her sad. That and he guaranteed Vaughan would be nowhere in the vicinity of this party town.

“I missed you, Bish,” she sniffs into his shoulder.

“Aw, don’t cry Cami girl. I’m here now.” He gives her back a soothing rub, then shifts her to stand tucked under his arm. “What’s up C? Red. You both look exceptionally hot today.”

CeCe preens under the attention, having no problem accepting compliments. I mean, why would it be difficult when you’re a five foot eight, supermodel looking, Indian Princess, almost twenty year old woman.

But me…not so much. There’s a reason my nickname is squirt. And sprite. And Tink. I’m a five foot two—on my best day—red headed Irish girl with freckles and an affinity for turning the color of a ripe tomato in the summertime.

“You been working out, Bish?” CeCe squeezes his large bicep and he flexes.

Bishop throws us all a bright white smile and a wink. If it weren’t for the fact that we have all been close friends for five years, I’d be melting under his blinding good looks. His deep brown skin is like smooth milk chocolate. I bet he tastes as sweet as he looks.

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