Campus Player by Jennifer Sucevic

The Girl Next Door

Chapter One

Mia

Summer before freshman year of college…

“Get your butt over here,”my best friend squeals from the window where she’s taken up sentinel, “you need to see this!”

That’s a negative, Ghost Rider. I’ll take a hard pass. I have zero interest in spying on a yard full of drunken classmates who are partying it up at my neighbor’s house. Reluctantly, I glance up from the toes I’m painting with a pale pink polish. Coney Island Cotton Candy, to be precise.

When our gazes lock, Alyssa waves me over. She’s practically vibrating with excitement. Kind of like a schnauzer.

“Everyone is over there!”

“Not true,” I mutter, lacquering my baby toe with an impressively steady hand. “We’re right here.” And that’s exactly where I plan to stay.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem.” She steeples her hands together before shaking them at me. “Please?” she begs. “Can’t we go over there for a little bit? Just a little? That’s all I’m asking.”

That’s all she’s asking…ha!

I’m calling bullshit.

Alyssa knows I’d rather chew my arm off than crash one of Beck Hollingsworth’s parties. I didn’t mention it to her, but Beck shot me a text earlier this afternoon with all the details. If she even suspected an invitation had been issued, she would have dragged my ass across the lawn that separates our properties as soon as the first guest pulled into the drive.

No, thank you.

It’s obvious from all the commotion coming from next door that the entire senior class has shown up to celebrate our newly graduated status. If we didn’t live on a quiet cul-de-sac tucked away in a gated subdivision, I’d expect the police to make an unannounced visit and shut down the festivities.

Then again, no one wants to mess with Beck’s father, Archibald Hollingsworth. He’s a high-priced attorney with a fleet of underlings working for him. He’s one of those overly tan guys with blindingly white veneers you see on television yapping about if you’ve been injured, you need to call them—they fight for the little guy! The dude is everywhere. Billboards. Commercials. Newspaper and magazine advertisements.

The local police have tangled with Archibald several times over the years because his son is a magnet for trouble. Let’s see, there was the time (or five) when he was picked up for underage drinking. When Beck was fifteen years old, he borrowed his parent’s brand spanking new Range Rover and did a little off-roading. And the police were involved when he super glued the locks on the high school building doors for senior prank day.

Instead of hauling Beck to the station every time he’s picked up, they drop him at his front door and don’t bother talking to Archibald about it. Beck is on a first name basis with a number of guys on the force. A few showed up to his graduation party in June.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Beck always figures out a way to circumvent the obstacles standing in his path. His parents. School. The law. It’s as irritating as it is impressive. Maybe one of these days, he’ll use his powers for good instead of evil.

“Come on, Mia!” Alyssa whines, all the while flashing sad puppy dog eyes at me.

Double whammy.

My bestie knows I have a difficult time resisting puppy dog eyes.

I wiggle my toes from the bed and grumble, “I can’t go anywhere until my nails dry.” I’m doing my best to prolong subjecting myself to the aggravation of being anywhere near Beckett Hollingsworth. The guy drives me bat shit crazy.

And that’s putting it mildly.

“Great! So…five minutes?” She swings away before pressing her face against the screen as her voice turns dreamy. “I bet Colton is already there.”

Ugh.

Colton Montgomery is Beck’s righthand man, so it’s not a wager I’m likely to win.

Against my better advice, Alyssa has been crushing hard on Colton for more than a year. Not only is he popular, but he’s a football player. Heavy emphasis on the player part. If Alyssa were smart, she’d find a nice guy to fall in lust with, but she has tunnel vision when it comes to the blond-haired, blue-eyed heartbreaker.

Colton has it all going on. Brains, brawn, and more than likely, a one-way ticket to the NFL after college.

The only problem is that he’s aware of his own appeal.

His ego is as massive as other parts of him.

Or so I hear.

And not from Alyssa since he refuses to sleep with her. I can’t decide if the situation is amusing or sad. The more Colton keeps Alyssa at a firm distance, the more determined she is to have him.

Last football season, Alyssa dragged me to every game. Even the away ones. My greatest fear was that Beck would assume my ass was in the stands in support of him. His fan club is already legendary without adding me to the ranks.

When it comes to the ladies, Beckett makes Colton look like an innocent babe. He goes through girls like most people go through underwear. Speaking of panties, the girls at our high school are always happy—hell, I’d go so far as to say thrilled—to drop theirs for him.

It’s ridiculous.

He’s a chronic user and abuser.

There should be a warning label slapped across his forehead.

Beware. Toxic to the female species.

But you know what?

That wouldn’t stop these bubble-headed chicks from spreading their legs wide for him. I’ve stopped trying to figure out the appeal. All right, I’m well aware of what the attraction is. As much as I’ve tried to pretend I’m immune to his charms, I’m not. I just do a damn good job of burying them deep down where they never see the light of day. If I didn’t, Beck would annihilate me in a heartbeat, and I have zero desire to end up a casualty on his hit list.

Given the choice, I’d rather flip through Netflix and find a movie to watch rather than be dragged over to Beck’s bash.

Doesn’t sitting around in pajamas and stuffing our faces with pizza sound way better than watching a bunch of our classmates get sloppy drunk, engage in way too much PDA, puke all over the place before alcohol poisoning sets in?

I won’t bother posing the question to Alyssa. There is no way she’ll willingly opt for sitting home instead of stalking her crush.

Would you like to guess what Colton will be doing while I wipe drool from Alyssa’s chin?

You guessed it. He’ll be flirting with every vagina he thinks he has a chance of penetrating.

Honestly, it’s one of the most masochistic things Alyssa could do. I have no idea why she insists on putting herself through this kind of agony. Apparently, my job as her best friend is to support her decision to inflict untold amounts of mental anguish onto herself. I’d slap her upside the head if I thought it would knock sense into her.

My prediction for the evening goes a little something like this—Alyssa will have a few drinks, moon over Colton, before dissolving into a puddle of tears while that manwhore makes out with other girls in front of her face. Then I’ll drag her home and she’ll end up knuckle-deep in a gallon of triple chocolate ice cream.

But that’s what friends are for, right?

Don’t worry, I’ve already made my peace with it.

“Fine,” I grumble with a scowl, hoping she understands the depth of my reluctance. “But let it be known that I won’t be staying for more than an hour. So you better make good use of your time, girl.”

She swings around to face me, bouncing on the tips of her toes as she claps her hands together with excitement. “Yay!” As soon as she gets the affirmative, she beelines for my closet, which is half the size of my room.

I have the kind of closet most girls my age can only dream about. Shoes, purses, clothes, jewelry. It’s all there and organized.

“Cue the montage music while I find something schmexy to wear!” she squeals.

“What you have on is fine.” I roll my eyes and yell, “It was good enough for me, wasn’t it?”

From within the depths of my closet comes a snort.

For the next ten minutes, I’m treated to an impromptu fashion show. At the rate Alyssa is going, we won’t make it to the party any time soon.

Take your time, girlfriend. I’m totally good with that.

A dozen outfit changes later, Alyssa settles on a black knit tank and white skirt that showcases her sun-kissed legs to their best advantage. Alyssa has been taking dance classes since she was three years old. She’s toned with long, lean muscles.

“Damn girl, you look hot.” Not that her crush will appreciate the effort. Alyssa needs to move on. I’m thinking a twelve-step program would help kick the Chase Montgomery habit.

“I would gladly live in your closet if you’d let me.” She grins before doing a little twirl. “It’s my happy place.”

A reluctant smile quirks my lips.

My mother is a card-carrying shopaholic and has the Amex Black Card bills to prove it. She buys clothes like our house burned to the ground and nothing could be salvaged. Even with racks and racks of space, my wardrobe is bursting at the seams. Three quarters of the stuff has never seen the light of day. Alyssa is lucky we’re roughly the same size so she can borrow whatever she wants.

Now that she’s dressed and ready to mingle, her eyes narrow as she takes a hard look at me. Wordlessly, she spins around and races back inside the closet only to resurface a handful of minutes later.

“Here you go,” she says, tossing two garments at the foot of my bed.

I glance at the shimmery gold tank and dark wash jean skirt that resembles a folded-up napkin. The skirt is cute as hell, but I would strongly advise against going commando while wearing it unless you’re looking to flash everyone your goodies.

Since that’s not my usual style, the price tag is still dangling from the pocket. I have no idea what my mother was thinking when she picked it up.

Unsure why she’s throwing clothes at me, I point to the small pile. “What’s that about?”

“You need to change.” She gives me a look that says—duh before clapping her hands together. “Chop-chop.”

Changing my clothes was not part of the plan. I’m fine with going in my pajamas. It’s not like I’m looking for a hookup. Or anything else, for that matter.

I shake my head and fold my arms across my chest. “No, thank you.”

Her gaze rakes over me as she points at my T-shirt. “Is that a coffee stain on your boob?”

With a frown, I glance at my chest and inspect the dark spot marring the fabric of my right breast. My guess is that she’s right. Caramel Macchiato, to be specific. “Possibly.”

Her lips flatten. “I refuse to go anywhere with you looking like that.”

“Great!” I stretch out before stacking my hands behind my head. “What kind of movie night does it feel like to you? Romcom? Horror? Psychological thriller? Angsty tearjerker?” A benevolent smile curves my lips. “You can choose.”

Alyssa stomps her foot on the carpeted floor. “Mia!” she wails at a decibel that could shatter eardrums. A few neighborhood dogs howl in response. “You promised!”

Promised?

No, I don’t think so.

I scrunch my nose and tap a finger against my lips. “I don’t believe I ever promised to do anything. Reluctantly agreed? Yes. Was browbeaten into capitulating? Definitely. But promised? Not in this lifetime.”

When she straightens to her full height, I groan, knowing exactly what’s about to happen. “Mia Evelyn Stanbury! Do I need to remind you who was there when—”

Argh.

This is the portion of the evening where Alyssa trots out every damn thing she’s ever done for me until I relent. And she’ll start with Harper Hastings. The girl who bullied me relentlessly in seventh grade because Xander Rossi asked me to the movies instead of her. After months of Harper’s meanspirited attacks, Alyssa waited for the girl after school. My bestie let it be known that if Harper didn’t cease and desist, she’d spread the good word that the other girl was a known bra stuffer. It must have been true, since Harper immediately backed off and I never heard a peep from her again.

“Yes, yes, Harper Hastings,” I mutter, not appreciating the direction this conversation has swerved in.

Alyssa folds her arms across her chest as a smug smile twists her lips upward. “Harper Hastings is only the beginning, my friend.” She arches a brow. “Need I continue?”

Silently we glare before I fold like a cheap house of cards. “Fine, I’ll change.” I straighten before scooping up the skirt and top and shaking them at her. “It’s only because I love you and you’re my best friend that I’m even willing to step foot next door.”

An angelic smile spreads across her pretty face before she blows me a kiss. “Love you, too. Now kindly move your assets.”

“An hour,” I remind. “That’s all you get.”

Looking unconcerned, she waves a hand. “No worries, that’s more than enough time to work my magic.”

What she means to say is that it’s more than enough time for Colton to ignore her, all the while hooking up with another girl. Part of me almost wishes he would sleep with Alyssa. Maybe then the rose-colored glasses would come off and she would realize what a douche the guy is.

In one fluid motion, the stained T-shirt is stripped from my body and replaced with the shimmery gold tank. Then I slide off the comfy shorts I’ve been lounging in and yank on the tiny rectangle of material that doubles as a skirt.

I step in front of my floor-to-ceiling mirror that’s propped against the wall and stare at my reflection before attempting to tug the skirt further down my thighs, but it’s useless. There’s not a spare inch of material to be found.

What the hell was my mother thinking when she picked this up? Was she mistakenly shopping in the toddler section? That’s the only reasonable explanation.

I turn around and bend over, touching my toes before peering over my shoulder to the mirror. It’s as I suspected. My thong is on full display. Actually, it doesn’t even look like I’m wearing underwear since the material is wedged between the crack of my ass like dental floss.

Lovely.

Not to mention uncomfortable.

“Is there a second option to consider?” My gaze slides to Alyssa’s in the mirror. “One where my ass isn’t hanging out?”

“’Fraid not. I’m seriously loving the whole—is she or isn’t she wearing panties guessing game you’ve got going on.” She winks. “Play your cards right and maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.”

I narrow my eyes as my lips thin. “Believe it or not, I’m perfectly content being unlucky.”

“That, my dear, is only because you don’t realize what you’ve been missing.”

“Heartache, STI’s, and the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy?” I flutter my lashes and smile. “You are so right.”

Ignoring my comment, she tosses a pair of gold sandals at me before sliding her feet into black leather ones that strap up her legs, giving her that whole Grecian goddess vibe. She looks amazing. But then again, when doesn’t she? Alyssa has long blond hair and dark blue eyes. Her skin has a natural sun-kissed glow that darkens under the summer sun.

It almost offends me that Colton refuses to fuck my friend.

What the hell is wrong with him?

“Ready to go?” she asks, checking her reflection in the mirror one last time.

I slip the sandals on before rising to my full height. “As I’ll ever be.”

Five minutes later, we’ve traversed the lawn and are walking around the side of the Hollingsworth mansion. All sixteen thousand square feet of it. Needless to say, Archibald has turned ambulance chasing into a lucrative art form.

With every step we take, the sound of drunken laughter and the pulsing beat of music grows louder, assaulting our ears. As soon as the party comes into view, I wonder why I let Alyssa talk me into this.

It’s complete chaos.

As much as Alyssa would like to convince you otherwise, I’m not a complete dud. I like to party as much as the next girl. But Beck enjoys taking his antics to the next level. He’s not content to have a low-key get together where people sit around and chill.

This party is moments away from becoming one of those teen movies where all hell breaks loose and the host wakes up naked the next morning in a dumpster five states away next to a goat.

Over to the left, a few people are holding a guy upside down while he performs a keg stand.

Chants of—chug, chug, chug permeate the air.

It wouldn’t surprise me if one of these drunken idiots is found floating face down in the pool come morning.

It begs the question of why Beck’s parents would leave him alone without supervision. He might be eighteen years old and technically an adult, but he needs an adultier adult to keep him in check. Someone who can put the kibosh on his hijinks.

Good luck with that. His older brother, Ari, is out of the country for the summer.

Archibald and Caroline, his parents, must have realized this was inevitable. Every time they go out of town, Beck throws a huge bash. Depending on the amount of damage, he gets grounded anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. The threat of consequences—hell, actual consequences being enforced—are in no way a deterrent.

Believe it or not, before our parents left town for a long weekend in New York, Archie asked me to keep an eye on their son. His actual words were—make sure no one dies.

As if I exert that much control over Beck?

Yeah, right. Beck doesn’t listen to anyone, let alone me.

Exactly what am I supposed to do?

Tattletale?

Facetime his parents so they can get a first-hand glimpse of the ensuing pandemonium?

As much pleasure as that would give me, it’s not going to happen. I might be a lot of things (a rule follower and a goody-goody, if you listen to Beck) but there are lines that can’t be crossed and snitching is one of them.

This will be one more antic Beck gets away with. I suppose that’s the beauty of being Beckett Hollingsworth. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than football.

The Neanderthal sport is his life.

By the time Beck was a freshman in high school, he’d already drawn the attention of Big Ten college coaches. They couldn’t wait to get him on their roster. If he could have gone straight to the NFL after graduation, he would have. But that’s not a possibility. Players aren’t eligible to enter the draft until after their sophomore year of college. Beck’s father has taken it one step further by insisting he wait until senior year because—and I quote—no damn son of mine is going to be a college dropout.

Beck will be proof positive that C’s really do earn degrees.

As my gaze drifts over the thick crowd of glassy-eyed stares, it collides with bright green ones. A little zip of electricity sizzles its way through my veins as our gazes fasten. The muscles in my belly tense with awareness. Once I realize what’s happening, I tamp down the reaction. My life has been filled with a thousand little moments like this one. Moments I like to pretend never transpired.

For all I know, it’s gastritis from the sushi I picked up at the gas station last night.

Anything’s possible, right?

Instead of glancing away, I hold his stare and scowl. What I’ve learned is that it’s better to brazen out these situations than turn tail and run. Beck’s perfect cupid’s bow of a mouth lifts into a knowing grin before he crooks his finger.

A gurgle of laughter bubbles up in my throat.

I don’t think so, buddy.

I’m not like the bubbleheads he usually toys with. I have a working brain and I enjoy using it to make good decisions that won’t come back to bite me in the ass. Unlike Beck, I have a healthy amount of self-preservation.

I press my lips into a tight line before emphatically shaking my head.

A wolfish grin spills across his face, giving him a boyishly handsome appearance. With dark tousled hair, sharp cheekbones that scream his Russian heritage, and thick eyebrows, he’s a danger to females everywhere. I won’t mention the chiseled body that looks like it was carved from stone. Broad shoulders and a tapered waist complete the package.

It’s almost a relief when a bikini-clad girl steps between us, severing the connection. Now that his sharp gaze is no longer pinning me in place, I’m able to exhale all the air from my lungs.

Alyssa grabs my hand. “There he is,” she whisper-yells excitedly over the babble of voices and music. “Oh my God, he’s so freaking dreamy.”

I regard the crowd of newly minted high school graduates before finding Colton.

Sure, I’ll admit it. He’s as hot as Beck. Instead of short dark hair, he’s golden blond. It’s buzzed on the sides and left long on top, so he’s constantly pushing it away from bright blue eyes. He’s tall and brawny. If I hadn’t gone to school with him since elementary, I’d suspect he flunked a few grades. Even his muscles have muscles.

Girls are already circling around him, vying for his attention. The guy is like a rock star picking out groupies to sleep with at the end of the night.

“He’s okay,” I mutter, wanting to downplay his attractiveness.

“You’re so full of shit, your eyes are turning brown. He’s way better than okay and you know it.”

“Ewww.” I scrunch my nose. “That’s gross.”

“Focus!” She snaps her fingers in front of my face.

I make one last-ditch effort to sway her. “You can do better than Colton. He knows exactly how hot he is and takes full advantage of it every chance he gets. Find someone like,” I stand on my tiptoes and pick through the mass of bodies before zeroing in on the perfect guy for Alyssa, “Landon Mathews. Not only is he good looking, he’s a sweetheart.”

Alyssa’s expression turns thoughtful as she assesses the tall guy with inky-black hair and unusual blue-green eyes. He’s standing around with a bunch of football players, laughing at something one of them said.

“He’s definitely yummy,” she admits.

For one glorious moment, my spirits soar. Maybe she’ll drop this whole Colton Montgomery nonsense and go after someone more attainable. Landon is a great guy. He’s as hot as his friends, but he’s not a total asshat. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get nearly the same amount of hype that Colton or Beck do since he’s been labeled a good guy.

I mean, who wants to date a nice guy when you can have one who treats you like total crap?

Said no one ever.

Except…there seems to be way more truth to that statement than most females are comfortable acknowledging. Whether they realize it or not, these girls have been conditioned to crave unattainable jerks.

It’s disturbing on so many levels.

“Added bonus,” I continue, “he knows you’re alive!”

“Um, excuse me, Colton knows I’m alive,” she grumbles.

“Are you certain about that?”

She bites her lip as we glance at the guy in question who is—surprise-surprise—surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad girls competing for his interest.

Uh-oh.

Alyssa’s got that look in her eye. The one that tells me not to bother trying to talk her out of her plans.

She confirms it by saying, “Wish me luck, I’m going in.”

It was worth a try.

“Good luck.”

One of Alyssa’s best qualities is that she’s not a quitter. That girl can be as tenacious and persistent as a terrier. And sometimes, just as yappy.

In this instance, it’s a negative.

When she’s a few steps away, I cup my fingers around my mouth and yell, “Maybe you should take off the panties so you can flash him your puss. That way he’ll know you’re a sure thing.”

She whips around with a grin. “Excellent idea!”

My jaw drops when she shimmies out of her panties and tosses them in my direction.

“Christ, girl! I was joking! That was sarcasm!” I glance at the wadded-up material I now clench in my hand. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

She shrugs. “Keep them as a souvenir?”

Gross.

“I don’t think so.” I stalk to a garbage can and pitch them. When I turn around, Alyssa is pushing her way through the crowd, moving steadily closer to Colton and his harem.

If nothing else, this should be entertaining. It takes a moment to realize I’m alone at a party I didn’t want to attend in the first place. I slip my phone from my back pocket and glance at it.

Fifty minutes and counting.

This is shaping up to be the longest hour of my life. Maybe I should head inside and grab a drink. By the number of drunken idiots I’m surrounded by, my guess is that the booze is flowing freely. I maneuver my way through the crowd and into the kitchen before taking in the scene.

If Beck’s mom saw all these people sitting their asses on her polished-to-a-high-shine marble countertop, she would probably have a conniption. She’s kind of a germ-o-phobe. There’s a half-naked girl stretched out on the island with a lime clenched in her teeth as one of the football players slurps tequila from her belly button.

I’m no aficionado on hygiene, but that definitely doesn’t seem sanitary.

A few people greet me as I make my way to the keg and take my place in line. I’m in the middle of chatting with a girl from my French class when she turns an unflattering shade of green and bolts to the nearest bathroom with her hands slapped over her mouth. All thoughts of a refill are abandoned as she pushes her way to the back hall. I really hope she makes it in time. Caroline will be furious if she finds out someone has thrown up on her marble floors.

Once I have a frothy cup of beer in hand, I head to the patio to check on Alyssa’s progress.

Am I a terrible friend for hoping she’s already been shot down and has thrown in the towel for the night?

Probably, but I can deal with that.

Instead of finding a dejected Alyssa crying in the corner, I’m amazed to discover that she’s clawed her way to the front of the pack. Who knows, she may actually have a shot of getting picked from the crowd.

This could be a real game changer for her.

Guess that means I’m stuck here. I look around the patio, searching for a place to park my ass. The Hollingsworth property is about an acre in size, which is the same as ours. The space around the pool is gated with a black iron fence and tall arborvitae that spear into the dark night sky. Toward the back of the gate is an unoccupied lounge chair with my name on it. I’ll hang out there for forty minutes before dragging Alyssa’s panty-less ass back to my house.

Before I can take three steps, a deep voice cuts through the raucous noise of the party.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to make a cameo appearance tonight.”

I swing around, knowing exactly who I’ll find.

Beck.

As difficult as it is, I try not to notice how delicious he looks in plaid board shorts that hang low on his hips, showing off the cut lines of his abdomen before disappearing beneath the waistband. The chiseled strength of his arms and chest are enough to bring most girls to their proverbial knees.

The operative word in that sentence being most.

I, however, am not one of those idiotic girls.

“Coming here tonight wasn’t my idea. I was dragged under duress.”

“Yeah, I figured you would have better things to do than hang around with a bunch of wasted assholes.”

He’s got me there.

“You know me too well.” When my throat grows dry, I lift the red Solo cup to my lips. Before I can take a sip, he snatches the drink from my fingers and brings it to his mouth. I watch his throat constrict as he drains the contents.

“Rude much?” My fists go to my hips. “What did you do that for?”

He shrugs. Even though it’s a slight movement, his muscles ripple and attraction bursts to life in my core. “You shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Excuse me?” My eyes pop wide as laughter tumbles from my mouth. “Are you being serious right now?” I wave a hand toward the drunken mass that surrounds us. It’s not even eleven, and already people are passed out on loungers. “Look around, dude, everyone is shitfaced.” Hopefully, there are a few designated drivers among this group or Uber will make a hell of a lot of money tonight.

As soon as Beck smirks, I know his answer is specifically designed to piss me off.

“That might be so, but everyone knows you’re a good girl. And good girls don’t drink. I wouldn’t want the society to revoke your membership. You’ve worked so damn hard for it.”

My eyes narrow to slits. The attraction that had flared to life so quickly is extinguished by his teasing.

I hate when he calls me that. And he knows it, which is precisely why he continues to do it. Beck loves nothing better than to crawl under my skin. He’s like a rash I can never quite get rid of, no matter how many steroids I use.

It’s irritating.

“I’m not a good girl,” I growl before stabbing a finger at his ridiculously hard chest. “And you are not my keeper. I can drink if I want to.” In a haughty voice, I remind, “I’m the one who was requested to babysit your ass. Not the other way around.”

He crowds into my personal space. Instead of retreating, I stand my ground. I refuse to let him intimidate me.

“Babysitter, you say? Hmmm…I could definitely use one of those tonight.” His fingers trace a path down the center of my chest, lingering in the valley between my breasts. “Should we take this elsewhere and you can demonstrate everything your service entails?”

His nearness does funny things to me and clouds my better judgment. Instead of pushing him away, I’m tempted to pull him closer.

My body wavers before sanity crashes down on me and I bat his hand away. “Go to hell.”

“See?” He laughs as if I’ve proven his point for him. “A good girl through and through.”

“I’m not as good as you think.” The words shoot out of my mouth before I can rein them back in. To be clear, they are a total lie. I am as good as he thinks. Probably better. I have to be.

“Is that so?” He steps closer until the tips of my breasts brush against his bare chest. “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing better than to test that theory but we both know you’ll always be Mia Stanbury, little miss perfect.”

And he’ll always be Beckett Hollingsworth. The guy with little-to-no impulse control who can’t walk down the school hallway without finding trouble. The same one who can’t be left alone in his own house for a night without inviting a hundred of his closest friends over for an impromptu party.

We are opposites in every sense of the word.

“Shut up, Beck.” I’ve never met anyone who has the power to turn me on and piss me off at the same time. If he ever cranked up the charm, I’d be toast. He’s capable of melting the panties right off a girl with one well-aimed look. I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes. I refuse to be one of those ridiculous females. I won’t be used and tossed aside like dirty Kleenex.

I don’t realize that I’ve become trapped in my own thoughts until his fingers settle under my chin, lifting it so I’m forced to meet his bright gaze. “What’s the matter? Truth hurt?”

“There’s nothing you can say that will hurt me.” If only that were true.

His face looms closer until it fills my vision, blotting out the party. My world shrinks around us until it only encompasses Beck. My breath gets clogged in my lungs and burns like a fire before spreading to the rest of my body. Any moment I’m going to self-combust.

What am I doing?

I should pull away, but I’m powerless to do anything other than stare into his eyes and fall under his spell.

“Beck, baby!” a loud female voice booms over the rowdiness of the party, “over here!”

Even when she continues to bleat like a sheep, our gazes remain locked for several long heartbeats and I almost wonder if he’ll ignore her. But she’s persistent and continues to repeat his name until he severs the connection between us and swings around.

As soon as I’m released, the air rushes from my lungs and my body sags with relief. Or maybe it’s disappointment. I tamp down the emotions so I can’t inspect them too closely.

What would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted?

Nothing good.

This is exactly why I avoid Beck at all costs. Even though we’re constantly sniping at each other, there’s an undercurrent of attraction that hums beneath the surface. No other guy has ever provoked these kinds of emotions in me. I want to slap him almost as much as I want to kiss him.

Sanity returns with a rush as I focus on the statuesque blond twenty feet away. Ava Simmons is wearing a teeny tiny bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. Once she has Beck’s full attention, she reaches around and unties the strings that hold the tiny triangles in place. The material floats to the cement at her feet. She lets him—and everyone else in the vicinity—ogle her perky breasts before running and jumping into the pool.

People cheer, and more girls ditch their tops, following Ava into the water.

A grin slides across Beck’s face as he glances at me. A challenging light enters his eyes as he jerks his dark head toward the pool. Water sloshes over the edge of the azure-colored tile as more bodies dive in.

Oh, hell no.

My heart pounds as I throw my hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Sorry, didn’t bring a suit.”

His grin turns predatory. “Doesn’t look like you need one.”

Yeah…not going to happen.

“As fun as that seems, I’ll pass,” I wave an arm toward the pool, “but don’t let that stop you from mingling with your guests. Ava’s waiting.” Topless. From the corner of my eye, I see her breasts bobbing like inflatable safety devices.

When his focus is drawn to the people splashing around, I follow suit. It’s so much easier to stare elsewhere than hold the intensity of his gaze. Even when that option includes watching a bunch of topless girls I’ve known since elementary school. I don’t check out the guys loitering in the area, but I’m sure most are sporting wood. Honestly, if it weren’t for Alyssa, I would get the hell out of here before it turns into a raging orgy.

Beck steps closer and my gaze snaps to his. “Sure I can’t persuade you to go for a swim?”

“Nope.” I shake my head.

“That’s too bad. This would have gone a long way to prove you’re not the good girl I always pegged you to be.”

Before I can summon up a pithy retort, he runs and dives headfirst into the water. I catch a glimpse of plaid as he disappears beneath the surface.

A mixture of relief and disappointment bubble up inside me until I’m nearly choking on them. It’s the latter emotion I’m having a hard time accepting.

With a huffed-out breath, I stalk to one of the many loungers that surround the pool and settle on top of a plush cushion. I glance around for Alyssa, hoping she’s given up on Colton so we can head home. It’s not too late for the evening to be salvaged with pizza and a movie. Instead, I find her in the pool.

Topless.

Sucking face with Colton.

Great.

As much as I want to take off, I can’t leave her here alone. God only knows what will happen if I do.

With a groan, I squeeze my eyes tight and prepare myself for a long night.