I stay seated after the bell rings, waiting for the other students to file out, so I don’t have to be in the middle of them.
Whitney pauses next to my desk and grins. “If you don’t stay away from the kings—especially Bentley—this is just the beginning, whore.” She knocks my backpack off my chair and saunters out the door with a little extra pep.
I grit my teeth, fuming, as she leaves the classroom. I remind myself that I cannot go after her or I’ll be facing expulsion. And if I get expelled, Charles will ship me off to Connecticut, where I have no chance of seeing my sister.
AINSLEY PRACTICALLY pounces on me the moment I sit down for lunch. “There’s a party tonight and you’re coming with me.”
I laugh. “Uh... no, I’m not. I have no desire to spend extra time with these assholes.”
She pouts. “C’mon, Jazz, it’ll be fun! Donovan, the guy who’s throwing it, is funny and sexy and sweet. And best of all, he’s in college so I highly doubt many high schoolers will be there.”
Ainsley gets a dreamy look in her eyes when she mentions this Donovan guy.
“You like him, don’t you?”
She smiles. “I really do. He’s a freshman at UCLA but he went to Windsor which is how I met him. I had the biggest crush on him last year but he had a girlfriend. I ran into him at the Commons yesterday and he invited me. And get this—he just happened to mention that he’s single now! That’s gotta be a hint, right?”
“It does sound like he’s into you,” I agreed. “What’s the Commons?”
“Oh, it’s kind of like the central meeting spot nearby. I totally had a craving for sushi after ballet, so I stopped there for dinner last night. They have the best sushi place. Donovan was there too—looking even hotter than he was last year—and we wound up sitting together and talking for like two hours.” She puts her hands in a prayer position. “Please, please, please come with me, Jazz. I don’t want to show up alone just in case I was reading him wrong. If we get there and you absolutely hate it, I promise we’ll leave right away.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
She beams. “I’ll pick you up at six. We can grab a bite to eat and get ready at my house. You can even sleep over if you want. Don’t worry about my jerkface brother; he lives in the pool house and he’s usually at Reed’s or Bentley’s on the weekends.”
“What exactly do I need to get ready for?”
Ainsley gives me an Are you dense? look. “Because there’s going to be a bunch of hot college guys there! Consider this your chance to let loose and act your age. Have a few drinks, maybe flirt with a few guys. Just set aside all the crappy stuff for one night and have fun. I really think you need this, Jazz. You can’t be sad or angry all the time. It’s not healthy.”
“Am I that obvious?”
She gives me a sad smile in reply.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, you’re right. What harm can letting loose for one night cause? I’m in.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JAZZ
Famous last words.
That’s the first thing I think when I walk into the party. Pure pandemonium, that’s what this is. Donovan’s place is packed with bodies, all in various states of intoxication. I’ve been to plenty of ragers over the last few years, but this is on a whole other level. I’ve never seen so much excess in one place.
There’s an elaborate bar set up in one corner and a DJ booth in another, pumping beats through a kickass sound system. Scantily clad girls are grinding on a makeshift dance floor, surrounded by a group of guys watching them appreciatively. Couples are making out against every available surface—a few even appear to be doing a lot more than kissing, with no regards to their audience. A cloud of smoke circles a group of people taking hits from a bong while others sitting with them are snorting lines of white powder using rolled up bills.
I shake my head when the song switches and Kendrick Lamar begins rapping about being humble. That would be the last word I’d use to describe any of these people.
“This is great, right?” Ainsley yells into my ear, looking around excitedly.
“Yeah... sure.”
She points to the bar area. “Let’s get a drink.”
We walk up to the bar where there’s an actual bartender manning the station.
His green eyes sparkle with interest as he checks me out. “What can I get you pretty ladies?”
Ainsley smiles. “Give me a screwdriver.”
Bartender guy turns to me. “And you, beautiful?”
“I’ll have a screwdriver as well.”
“Coming right up.” He grabs two red Solo cups and pours a generous amount of vodka into each before adding some OJ. His fingertips graze mine as he hands me a drink, and I blush. “I’m Kyle. You just let me know if you need anything else.” Kyle looks to be in his early twenties, so I’m guessing this might be a part-time job for him while he’s in college.
I bite my lip before taking a sip. “Thanks, Kyle. I’m Jazz.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You come here for someone in particular? Or with someone?”
Ainsley smiles knowingly. “You askin’ if my girl here is available?”
Kyle laughs. “Maybe I am.” His eyes never leave mine as he answers her question. “So... are you available, Jazz?”
“Oh, um... I guess you—”
“I’m fairly certain you’re being paid to mix drinks, not pick up women,” an all too familiar deep voice growls from my right.
Kingston has wedged himself between me and Ainsley, looking far too good for my comfort. His navy t-shirt is molded to the muscles that lay beneath and his dark fitted jeans hang low off his hips. He’s wearing a pair of white Jordans that don’t have a scuff on them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he just pulled them out of the box.
Kyle straightens his spine and clears his throat. “What can I get you, man?”
“Macallan.” Kingston levels Kyle with a glare. “And make it fucking snappy.”
“Stop being a dick!” Ainsley smacks her brother’s arm. “What the hell are you doing here anyway?”
Kingston ignores her and scowls at the bartender while he’s fixing his drink. When Kyle passes the scotch over to him, Kingston doesn’t even acknowledge him. Just downs the shot and slams the cup back down.
Kingston grabs both me and Ainsley by the elbow, leading us away.
“Hey!” I shout.
“What the hell?” Ainsley gripes at the same time.
He releases us once we’re a good twenty feet away. “The better question is, what the hell are you two doing here?”
Ainsley crosses her arms over her chest. “We were invited.”
Kingston’s lips curl as his attention turns to me. “Well, look at that; the trash is playing dress up.”
Insult aside, he’s right in one respect—I definitely don’t look like myself right now. By the time Ainsley was finished with me, my eye makeup was all smoky sex kitten, my long hair was pin-straight, and my clothes were... well, they’re kind of toeing the line between skanky and sexy. But if I’m being honest, I like the idea of getting out of my own skin for a night. I thought maybe if I didn’t look like myself, I could temporarily forget about all the depressing shit in my life.