Come out with me tonight, she said. It’ll be fun, she promised.

Yeah…not so much.

I drag myself out of the corner I took cover in, eyeing the American Pie-like movie scene playing out in front of me. Only, in this version, it’s ridiculously handsome males and far too sexy females parading around in a hormone-driven buzz, letting loose at the hands of alcohol. I mean, I get it. People can never be who or what they want. They can never be honest and upfront.

Alcohol does one of two things for you in high school: gives you the courage to tell the truth or the freedom to forget it. So they party, get drunk, hook-up, do and say stupid shit, and in the end, they take a page from Jamie Foxx and “blame it on the alcohol.”

Take, for instance, the Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts lookalike - pre-makeover, that is - who was just hoisted up onto the countertop by some tall, dark-haired beast of a guy whose face I can’t see. She’s biting down on her bottom lip and rubbing her knees together, clearly trying to excite this guy who, no doubt, only sees a faceless vag.

She spreads her legs and pulls him between them. Instantly, he dips his lips to her neck and she wraps her legs around his back. They’re three sheets to the wind and he’s got something she wants.

Yeah, all this is happening mid-party, and no one seems to give two shits.

Awesome.

In order to get to the other side of the room, I have to weave through the bodies crammed onto the makeshift dance floor. Brushing body parts against drunk, horny high school seniors I don’t know doesn’t sound like a good time, but it appears to be my only way out. So, I dodge a grope here and an elbow there, and make my way out of the slosh zone, earning only a few dirty looks along the way.

Petty asses.

When I round the corner into what I’m assuming is the living room, I let my eyes roam. All the furniture’s been pushed against the tan-colored walls. A few people are passed out, while others are making out on the sheet-covered couches, and there’s a beer pong game going on smack dab in the center.

At least there’s hardwood floors.

I watch as a big burly guy tosses the little white ball, effectively landing it inside the red cup on the opposite end of the table. Cheers erupt around the room.

The opposing team grumbles as one of the guys picks up the cup, downing its contents in seconds. I stand there, watching them play for a good twenty minutes, only turning to leave when the girls hanging around start stripping down to help “motivate” the players. Their words, not mine.

I’m about two feet from the door when my gaze is pulled to the stairs.

A beautiful girl with white-blonde hair descends, looking like a model on her runway. A large, dark-haired figure over her shoulder catches my attention and my eyes lift. I can’t quite make out his face from here, but I can tell he’s smirking and his shirt is hanging from his left hand.

My attention turns back to the girl and, imagine that…suddenly, she looks a lot less beauteous, and a lot more bimbo. Her modelesque strut now looks like a runway show for a pro-ho.

And I’m pretty sure that’s bleach-blonde, not beach-blonde.

With a shake of my head, I look away.

I’ve been here for an hour and I’m already labeling these people I know nothing about.

But honestly, am I labeling or just being observant?

I sigh. No matter how I try and spin it, it’s shitty all around.

Face it, Kalani, you’re being a judgmental bitch.

Once I make it out the front door and into the fresh air, I inhale deeply, trying to clear my senses. Nothing like leaving a party feeling as if you just stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch store. Cologne and spray tan overload.

I stand there for a few minutes, looking around, watching as people mill in and out of the house, then pull out my phone and send a quick text to Mia, letting her know I’m out.

As usual, she replies almost instantly.

 

Meems: boo-hoo, bitch. You lasted 5 seconds.

 

Me: close. Just add 57 minutes to that and you’re right on the dot. Congratulations!

 

Meems: thank you. Thank you. I’ll prepare my speech soon, but in the meantime…be careful on your way home. LUVS!!

 

I smile at my screen before stuffing it back into my boot, and begin the short walk to my house.

It’s early November, so there’s a nice chill to the air.

I’ve been in Alrick Falls for three weeks to the day. Tonight was the first time I agreed to go out with Mia and her friends. While it wasn’t a horrible night, per se, it wasn’t much fun either.

I mean, I like to party and have a good time. Or at least, I used to. But that party felt more like a brothel house. The guys, all too attractive for their own good, with their sexy smirks glued in place, were passing out drinks left and right. No doubt trying to loosen up all the girls - pretty sure most of ‘em were already ‘loose’ - while the girls paraded around in “barely there” clothing, batting their eyelashes as they knocked back every drink thrown their way. Maybe that’s how they get what they want, with a little liquid courage.

There was a time I liked kickin’ back with a group of friends, laughing, dancing, and singing. But this is a new place, with new people, and I don’t feel much like participating in their charades. I’d rather eat junk food and watch movies.

As I’m thinking it, I realize how shitty it sounds.

Maybe that’s my problem. I’m being bitchy and judgmental because this isn’t my home. Spending my senior year in Alrick was never part of the plan.

I guess I can try not to be such a buzzkill; have some fun while I’m here. That way, Mia doesn’t have to explain to her friends why her cousin is such a “snooty biatch.” Then, after I graduate, I’m out.

Yep. Headed straight for-

My train of thought stops abruptly as I take in the sight before me.

“What the hell…” I mutter as I peer at the fancy jeep-looking thing stopped in the middle of the dark street.

I wait a beat to see if it starts going again, but it doesn’t. It appears to be parked in the middle of the road, still running, lights on and everything.

Instead of doing the logical thing a girl should do when she’s alone in the dark with a creeper car close by - like running - I make a stupid horror film decision and walk toward the vehicle because that’s smart.

The closer I get, the better I can see. Not a jeep, but a fancy Hummer. A sexy, sleek, black one, with all-black rims.

Very presidential.

As I approach, I hear Sublime’s “Wrong Way” blaring. Looking around, I realize the sound of the music is flowing from the open sunroof.

At five-foot-two, I’m too short to see through the window, so I tap lightly. “Hey, you alright in there?”

No response.

With a frown, I make my way to the back of the beauty before I freeze.

What the hell am I doing?

This is the exact shit your parents warn you about when they give you the “don’t talk to strangers” lecture. Only, I’m pretty sure what I’m about to do borders more on “the dumbest idea ever.”

“Fuck it.” I reach up, grabbing ahold of the spare tire on the back of the vehicle. Gripping it tight, I push up from the bumper, laughing as I hoist myself onto the roof.

If the owner catches me doing this…

I crawl on my hands and knees until I’m at the open sunroof. Leaning over cautiously, I peek inside.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper, taking in the sight before me.

And, oh, what a sight. What. A. Sight.

The driver is slouched in the seat, his head dangling away from me, so I can’t see his face. His right arm is through a black t-shirt while his left is bare, the material bunched around his neck, like he never managed to get the other arm through. I can see half his washboard stomach, and damn... the boy works out. I let my eyes travel over him, because, why not? I’ve already reached a whole new level of cray.

His hair is thick, short on the sides and longer on the top; the color of dark chocolate. If the letterman jacket on the passenger seat is any indication, he’s an athlete. Looks like one, too. All broad shoulders and strong arms.

Huh. Seems he was in a real hurry. Didn’t even have time to button up those designer jeans.

Ending my appraisal, I inch my hand in the truck, lightly poke the top of his head. “Hey, you alive?”

A gargling sound comes from the dark-haired stranger, and his head falls back. He lets out a breath, causing me to jolt back.

“Ugh…” My nose wrinkles. “Someone was drinking the good stuff.”

Now that I can see his whole face, I realize it’s the playboy from the stairs. Maybe even the same guy who was playing with the redhead earlier.

He looks like a grown ass man, but since he was at the party, I’m guessing he’s around my age. He’s handsome though, that’s a given.

Bet he knows it, too.

His eyebrows are dark and thick, with eyelashes to match, and his face is clean-shaven, with small, perfectly trimmed sideburns. Following the invisible trail from there, I take note of his strong jawline, sculpted to perfection, then lift my eyes slightly to find a bottom lip that puffs out a bit further than the top, a perfect contrast, really.

A half-hearted sigh escapes me. “Bummer.” Perfection brings ego, which translates into one thing: asshole.

“Hey, dumbass. You alright?” I ask, frowning.

“Pfft, I’m fine,” he slurs, his chin dropping to his chest.

I roll my eyes. “Sure you are. I’m coming in.”

He lets out a drunken chuckle. “Usually it’s me who’s coming when I’m in.” He laughs harder, one knee lifting slightly, clearly amused by his own joke.

“Hilarious,” I deadpan. Yep. Guy’s a tool. “Look, you’re drunk. Switch seats and I’ll drive you home.”

He doesn’t move, so I reach in again and give the guy a little shake.

Nothing.

“Lovely.” Pursing my lips, I consider my options. He’s massive, so moving him won’t work. I could call the cops, but that feels like a bitch move, even though it’s his own damn fault for being irresponsible.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I curse myself under my breath, and glance at the houses surrounding me. Not wanting to put my boots on the luxury seats, I use my arms for support and lower myself into the cab until my knees hit the center console. After adjusting the volume on the stereo, I peek at the guy before leaning across the driver’s seat. Searching around, I try to find a lever, but my hand barely reaches the side of the seat.

“Shit.” I perch on my knees and lean all the way over him.

God, if someone drives by right now… it looks like I’m giving some serious road head.

I stretch, reaching damn near to the floorboard, finally finding a small lever. Unsure of how it works, I quickly push, slide, and pull. One of them works, because the driver seat starts to fall back. I quickly let go so I don’t end up giving the guy whiplash. Or get puked on. That would suck.

The guy laughs and grabs me, pulling me back with him, and a ridiculously girly squeal escapes me.

My torso is now lying sideways across his chest, ass still semi in the air.

“If you wanna play…” he slurs, rubbing his nose in my hair. “Mmm…you smell soooo sweet,” he continues to mumble before he’s snoring again.

His voice is low and rough, and ridiculously sexy.

Don’t go there, Kalani. Don’t do it.

Man, I bet this guy gets the pick of the puss.

He’s got game in his sleep.

I gotta get us out of here.

I wait a minute, making sure he’s out cold, then climb the rest of the way across, sliding my legs between his. Squeezing my eyes shut, I move at a snail’s pace, lowering myself down so I’m sitting on his lap. I stay completely still for a few seconds, just in case…well, I don’t really know. But it seems like the best idea at the moment.

I’m sitting on his thighs, squished against the steering wheel, so I reach down trying to find another lever to move the seat backward, but instead I find a fancy button.

The seat reverses, which causes the back to lift. I gasp when my back meets his steeled chest. The second I shift my body to get into a more comfortable position, two large hands fly to my hips, gripping them like a running back does a football: tight, hard, and close to his body.

My body temperature spikes as I put the vehicle in drive and head down the road. Only then do I realize I have no idea where I’m going.

The heater -or his heat currently poking my ass- is too much, so I roll down the window and head to the only place I know.

I pull into my driveway, which was only a minute drive from where I hopped into the vehicle originally, and turn off the truck. As soon as the vibration of the engine stops, I become hyperaware of the stranger beneath me.

The strong rhythm of his heart beats against my back as his exposed skin warms me through my clothes. Deep, hot breaths fan across my neck, making me slightly light-headed, despite my lack of drinking tonight.

It seems I’m not the only one who feels the shift in the air as the guy is now running his nose along my shoulder. I really shouldn’t let him do that. He could be a crazy person. Or worse, a Broncos fan, but it feels so good.

My eyes widen when his dick twitches against my ass, and I scramble into the passenger seat. Apparently his ‘heat’ wasn’t all the way nuked if you know what I mean, because that was definitely…more.

I decide I’m going to leave him there, in his seat, to sober up. Then, come morning, when he feels like Woody Woodpecker is paying him a visit, he can be on his merry way.

I take the keys out of the ignition and toss them on the passenger side floor; close enough for a sober person to find, but not a drunken fool. I allow another look at the guy - he really is adorable - then hop out, careful not to slam the door.

After taking a quick shower, I throw on a thong, my Halestorm concert t-shirt, which has definitely seen better days, and hop in bed. I fall asleep within minutes; my devil cat, Nauni, beside me.

I roll myself onto my stomach, squeezing the pillow over my head to drown out the pounding at my door. When it continues for a good minute, I groan, and throw myself out of bed, ready to ring Mia’s neck. I gave her a key to avoid this exact situation. I love my sleep. I need my sleep. This is something she knows.

Scowl in place, I fling the door open. “Where the hell is your ke-” I stop short.

It’s not Mia. Nope. It’s Mr. Perfection in all his still half-naked glory.

At my door.

And man is he tall. Ginormous compared to me, but not freakishly so. More like six feet of vagina waking, no K-Y needed temptation. Trouble.

My eyes drop to the jeans stretched nicely over what look to be thick, strong thighs. Pants still unbuttoned, I skirt past the no-fly zone, and feast my eyes on his yummy tummy.

Yep. Still rock solid. I continue my appraisal upward until his mouth is in my line of sight, when I snap back to reality.

There’s that self-satisfied smirk again, the one he was wearing at the party.

I want to punch it off his perfect face.

My eyes lift to his, and damn it all to hell. They’re a deep dark brown, almost black in color, and right now his lids are half-closed as he stares at me.

I watch his eyes as they roam over my body.

I’m fully aware I’m only wearing a very small, very thin t-shirt and thong. The bottom of my freshly waxed prize is surely peeking out, and my ass is exposed. I guarantee my nips are hard as rocks from the breeze sweeping through the door, but I’ll be damned if I allow him to think I give two shits what he thinks, not with that “I’m the man” look on his face, smug bastard.

As soon as his dark eyes meet mine again, he speaks. “You must have really worn me out.” His voice is deep, and raspy from sleep. “Didn’t even make it down the drive before I passed out.”

My eyes shoot wide.

At my reaction, he puts his hands up in front of him. “Hey. Don’t go gettin’ all offended.” He smirks. Again. “That’s a compliment coming from me.”

This guy...

“Okay. Whoa.” I lift my hands this time. “Just... whoa.” I gape at him. “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think you-”

“Look,” he cuts me off, a miffed sigh leaving him. “I’m not interested in hashing things out. You should know the drill.” He drops his gaze to my hard nipples and, without a doubt, this egotistical asshole assumes it’s my body’s reaction to him. “I don’t go in for seconds, so you might wanna put those away.” He motions lazily toward my chest. “You know, so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw hits the floor. Seriously.

What the fuck?

What. The. Fuck.

“Um, hi. First of all, it’s cold.” I squeeze my boobs. “This has nothing to do with you. Second, let me break it down for you, Mr. Hugh Hefner-in-training.” He grins at that. Dumbass. “That,” I point to his groin, “was nowhere near this,” I say, giving a little WWE “suck it” smack to my crotch, speaking like I’m addressing a kindergarten class.

His eyebrows pull into a deep frown, and his hands find his hips in a lazy, thoughtful motion. It’s almost comical how confused he looks.

I release an annoyed sigh, deciding to get this over with. “You,” I push my index finger into his chest, “were passed out drunk in your truck in the middle of the road.” I shrug. “Figured I’d do my good deed for the day - though, now I’m thinking I should have left your ass there - and drove you here since I didn’t know where you lived. Thought you would wake up and take off by morning.” I motion my hand toward him. “Clearly, I’m a dumbass for that ‘cause here you are.”

He smashes his lips into a tight line, glances at his truck, then back at me.

“You’re saying you brought me to your house... and we didn’t have sex?”

“Yep.”

“Sooo...” He looks pointedly from my naked legs to his open fly. “We didn’t have sex?”

I stare at him blankly.

Those dark eyes of his narrow before he shakes his head unbelieving.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he looks back at me with a dark brow raised. “Guessin’ my phone’s not in your house?”

A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it, because there it is folks, the reason he had to come to the door.

His eyes narrow further.

“K. I get it now.” I nod. “This isn’t part of the play ‘em to lay ‘em routine and clearly you have a serious case of selective hearing, that or you’re way to cocksure for your own good, so let me try this one more time, maybe a little slower and see how that works?” I mock, not letting him respond before continuing. “You were Passed. Out. I drove you here so you didn’t get yourself arrested. End. Of. Story.”

He scowls past me as he scratches the back of his neck. “Huh.” Then, his head pulls back, as his eyes widen, a look of horror crossing his face. “Wait,” I think he might hurl, “you drove my Hummer?”

What part of… ahhh. So, the big boy is attached to his toy.

“Sure did.” He looks seriously disturbed, so I add, “Of course, that was after I climbed up the back in my boots. Then, crawled across the top and dropped in through the sunroof, heels first.” That’s not a lie. The small heel of my boots did go in first, with extreme caution, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Thank goodness the center console was there for me to step on,” with my knees, “or I might have fallen.”

And bam. He’s full on fuming now.

Eyes bulging, jaw tight, chest heaving; he’s officially going to lose his shit.

I’m not gonna let him.

“Right. So... bye.” I slam the door in his face as fast as I can.

I go back to my room and climb into bed, listening as the Hummer’s engine roars to life. A few minutes pass before I hear it pull away.

Sleep doesn’t come so easy after that.