“Fine,” I agree.
Going to a party with Ainsley has to be better than sitting at Sperm Donor’s McMansion all night.
“Then it’s settled. You’ll ride with Ainsley and later in the evening, you’ll be riding me.” Bentley pulls me into his side.
I push him off. “You wish.”
He winks. “Ain’t denying that.”
I smile, hating how much of a sucker I am for his charm. “Idiot.”
“Ah, but you want me anyway,” Bentley teases.
I smile wryly. “Nah. I’m not into bro dudes.”
Bentley gasps dramatically. “You take that back! I am not a bro dude!”
I shrug. “If the douchebag fits...”
Bentley picks me up right out of my chair, setting me on his lap. “Just for that, you can sit on my lap for the rest of lunch.”
“Put me down, you jerk!”
I release an embarrassing squeal when he squeezes my leg right above the knee. I’m horribly ticklish there which Bentley quickly figures out. I laugh and squirm until I feel how I’m affecting him. The large thing poking me in the ass causes me to still immediately.
Bentley lifts his hips, ever so slightly, pressing his erection into my butt even more. “Careful, Jazz,” he whispers into my ear. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.”
I swiftly scurry to my seat when he releases me and make the mistake of letting my eyes roam the rest of the dining room. Bentley and I definitely made a giant spectacle of ourselves. Ainsley and Reed are eyeing me with amusement, probably because my entire face is flushed. Kingston, however, couldn’t possibly look more hostile. Nor could Peyton and her squad.
Great. Just great.
OKAY, ONE THING I WILL admit, rich kids know how to throw a party. Reed’s house is easily ten thousand square feet, but the bottom level is packed with bodies. So much for controlling the environment—this place is a damn fire hazard. It’s also a den of iniquity. There’s a professional DJ, a bar supplying alcohol when not a single person here is over twenty-one, and multiple seating areas where couples are engaging in various levels of foreplay or using drugs.
“This place is lit!” Ainsley shouts.
She drags me through the open space, pointing out different areas, clearly knowing where she’s going. Quite a few girls stop us along the way, offering superficial conversation punctuated by air kisses. Every single one of them eyes me curiously but doesn’t say a word to me. I can tell Ainsley hates this crap, but she remains poised as if she’s had a lot of practice doing it.
Finally, a genuine smile stretches across her face when she spots Reed sitting on a black leather couch in front of a huge TV, smoking a J. Bentley and Kingston are on gaming chairs next to the couch, their feet kicked up, playing Xbox.
Reed’s entire demeanor changes when he sees Ainsley. He goes from looking impossibly bored to ecstatic, just like that.
He gets off the couch and pulls Ainsley into a side hug. “Hey. When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago,” she says with hearts in her eyes.
Damn, this girl’s got it bad. I was so happy to hear Reed is going to man up and talk to Kingston about dating Ainsley. Hell, he might’ve done it already if the hardness to Kingston’s jaw is any indication. He may not like it, but the fact that he’s not trying to interfere right now is a good sign.
“Jazzy Jazz!” Bentley shouts. “Come sit on my lap and be my good luck charm. Davenport’s kicking my ass.”
“No amount of luck will prevent me from kicking your ass,” Kingston taunts.
Ainsley and Reed take a seat on the couch, so I decide to do the same. “No thanks. I’m fine right here.”
“You’re no fun, girl.” Bentley’s lips form into a pout. “Where’s your drink? You need to loosen up.”
I show him my water bottle. “Right here. No alcohol for this girl tonight.”
Bentley’s jaw drops. “What?! No, that just won’t do.”
“It’s true,” Ainsley says. “Neither one of us are drinking tonight.”
Reed takes a hit from his joint and holds it out to her. “You want some?”
Ainsley shrugs as she takes it from him. “Sure.” She wraps her lips around it and coughs after inhaling too much smoke. When I give her a look she says, “What?”
I eye the joint in her hand. “Didn’t we just say we’re not getting fucked up?”
“No, we said we weren’t drinking. Weed doesn’t get you fucked up like liquor does. And it’s totally natural.” She holds the J out to me. “You in?”
Oh, why the hell not? She’s right—I’ve never been unaware of what I was doing while smoking weed. True, it could be laced but I know Reed would never do that to Ainsley, especially with Kingston right here. There’s no harm in sharing the same blunt.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Bentley throws the controller down and squeezes next to me on the couch.
I pass Bentley the joint after taking a hit of my own.
Kingston grabs some paper and a grinder off the side table and starts rolling his own. I snort, not surprised in the least that he’s not willing to share with us. I hold my breath when his tongue peeks out to lick the paper. He’s well versed in the art of rolling, even taking the time to use a thin skewer to create a passageway for the smoke to travel so it burns evenly. I’ve never been a heavy smoker, but my ex works at a dispensary. He has an obsession with rolling perfect blunts and felt it was necessary to pass on the knowledge.
God, why does Kingston have to be so pretty to look at? He has that whole rich asshole thing down to a T, which doesn’t normally do it for me, but with him, it works. Tonight, he’s wearing dark jeans that are no doubt designer and a t-shirt that’s molded to his muscular chest so well, I’m sure it’s tailored to fit him perfectly. He must have had a haircut after school because the fade is cleaned up and the top is a bit shorter. He hasn’t said a word to me yet—he just watches me with those intense ever-changing eyes, like he’s waiting me out.
After a few passes, I’m rocking a nice high, sinking back into the plush couch. Ainsley and Reed have moved to a back corner of the room, engaged in their own private conversation. I smile when her melodious laughter rings out and continues uncontrollably. Oh yeah, girlfriend is definitely a lightweight. Kingston is still brooding, staring me down from his chair. I refuse to acknowledge this little game of chicken we have going on, so I focus on chatting with Bentley instead.
I’m so relaxed, I don’t even think to move Bentley’s hand when it lands on my thigh.
“I like what you’ve got on here, Jazzy Jazz.” I shiver when his deep voice rumbles in my ear as his fingers begin to climb. “It’s understated, but sexy as fuck. You don’t even need to try and you have the attention of practically every guy in this house.”
I’m wearing a black tank, black ripped skinny jeans, and matching Chucks. Silver bangles circle each of my wrists, but that’s the only accessory I have on. I didn’t even bother doing something special with my hair or makeup—I’m sporting a high ponytail with just a little eyeliner and pink lip gloss. I figured I wasn’t coming here to impress anyone. I’m here to support my friend and get out of that suffocating mansion.