“Yeah, she’s supposed to be,” I mutter.
“Huh. Could’ve fooled me.”
“She’s just upset because Wally is an asshole,” I state, slowing to a stop. “She’s taking it out on me. Whatever. I just… I really want to leave. Can we get out of here?”
Sherlock sighs, looking around. “I really wanted you to talk to Hunter first. Coming here was a complete waste of time if you don’t.” After a couple of seconds, he hands me one of the Solo cups. “Here. Why don’t we have one drink, do a lap, see if we can find him?”
“I don’t feel like socializing with anyone else,” I say, taking the cup and regarding it with open skepticism. “And my mom told me not to take open drinks from strange guys.”
“No roofies, I promise.” He holds his cup out. “We can switch, if you want.”
I narrow my eyes at him, the crazy coming out as I tell him, “Maybe you expected me to say that and roofied yourself so that when I insisted we switch cups, I would end up with the roofies.”
“Maybe you’ve seen The Princess Bride a time too many.”
“Inconceivable!”
Sherlock smiles. “Come on. We’ll head upstairs, fewer people up there. It’s quieter. Maybe Hunter’s up there. Sometimes he gets these parties going and then disappears.”
I tense when he says that. “Alone?”
“As far as I know.”
I don’t like those odds. If we find him and he’s hooking up with some other girl, I’ll die.
“I have a better idea,” I tell Sherlock.
“What’s that?” he asks, grabbing my elbow and guiding me toward the stairs.
“We don’t talk to Hunter. We don’t drink our drinks. We go back to my house and watch a movie with my mom and her sorta boyfriend. There’s a 50/50 chance she’ll hate you on sight, but she could also love you for not being Hunter. Definitely one or the other, no possibility she’ll fall somewhere in the middle. It would help immensely if you found a natural way to express your inherent disinterest in sex. Ray would probably think your car is cool, so you’d get points there. We can watch The Princess Bride and order pizza, and then you can go home.”
“Hmm, tempting,” he says, playing along.
I’m not playing, though. I really don’t want to go upstairs.
I am walking up the stairs though, so you can’t tell.
I frown over at him. “How do you keep convincing me to do things I don’t want to do?”
Sherlock smirks. “It’s a talent.” His free hand moves to the small of my back as we hit the top landing.
“Maybe you shouldn’t touch me. You said we’re not lying to Hunter, we’re just trying to take him off guard by being here together. If he sees you touching me, he’ll think…”
He stops to set his drink down on an end table before we make it to the hallway. “That I’m a gentleman?”
“No, not that.”
He takes my drink and starts to put it down next to his, but stops suddenly and frowns at the rim of the cup. “No lipstick.” He hands the cup back. “Here, take a drink.”
“Why?” I ask, scowling.
“Devil’s in the details.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just take a goddamn sip.”
I scowl harder. “You’re so bossy,” I tell him, but I take a quick sip anyway.
He takes the cup now and sets it down, then he drapes an arm around me, planting a hand on my hip and starting down the hallway. “What happened between you two, anyway?”
“Remember when you said that was my business?” I ask, anxious about how close he is. I can feel the body heat rolling off him and seeping into me.
“Well, yeah, but that was before we were friends,” he says with a wink-and-smirk-combo I guarantee has dropped a good number of panties.
“I’ve reconsidered your friendship application. I regret to inform you, the position is no longer available.”
“Damn. I’ll have to apply next time there’s an opening,” he says as he guides me down the shadowy corridor.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, realizing as soon as the question is out, there are only bedrooms this way and no other people.
He stops right outside of Hunter’s bedroom and turns me around so my back is to the door.
I get the feeling I’m exactly where he’s wanted me since he sat with me at lunch, and the sudden predatory glint in his eye makes my heart sink.
Those eyes. It’s hard to look away from them, even though holding his gaze makes my chest tight. I thought his eyes were blue earlier today when he sat down at my lunch table, but as I look up into their seemingly endless depths now, they’ve darkened to a hard, steely gray.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, easing back against the door as Sherlock closes in on me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice a bit shaky.
Wordlessly, he plants a hand against the door over my head, then leans in and presses his body against mine. His other arm coils around my waist, tightening and tugging my body close as I try to move away. His face is so close to mine, I can scarcely breathe.
“You said… you said we were only going to—”
“I lied,” he says simply.
Then he kisses me.
My tummy tumbles, my heart sinks, and adrenaline rushes through my blood stream as the bedroom door opens behind me. I’m caught between the instincts to shove Sherlock away, and catch myself as I fall backward without the closed door to support my weight.
I don’t actually fall because Sherlock has his arm locked around my waist, but that’s so much worse.
“What the fuck?”
Hunter’s stunned voice stops my heart.
I bring my hands up quickly, trying to shove Sherlock away from me. He pulls back once we’re in the bedroom anyway, feigning surprise as he looks up at Hunter. “Oh, shit. Sorry, man, I didn’t realize you were in this room.”
Sherlock lets go and I skitter away, backing up against the open door and gazing at Hunter with open horror.
The look of betrayal on his beautiful face tears my heart in half.
I want to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness, even though I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.
Hunter’s not looking at Sherlock. He doesn’t answer him, either. He’s staring at me. His gaze drops to my lips, and the look in his eyes shifts. Hurt twists itself into red-hot fury.
I touch my bottom lip, conscious of all the trouble it’s causing. Sherlock kissed me so at first I think he probably smeared my lipgloss, but then I touch my lip and realize it feels kind of tender and swollen.
He bit my lip.
It all happened so fast, I didn’t even realize.
I cover my mouth, not wanting Hunter to see. Guilt leaps to my eyes. I step forward as I try to explain. “It’s not what it looks like.”
I know exactly what it looks like. It looks like we were making out in the hallway and we tumbled into a room that happened to be occupied.
Hunter takes a slow step forward, then another.
I’ve never been afraid of Hunter, but my heart pounds like I am as I take an instinctive step back.
Half-assing his performance now that Hunter has zeroed in on me, Sherlock says, “I didn’t even realize this was your room…”