GABBY
After complainingabout these parties for the last two-plus years, it’s strange to be heading to one. Were it not for Sienna, who plied me with a stiff drink, several coats of mascara, and red lipstick the shade of a fire hydrant, I’m not sure I would’ve gotten the courage to leave the house.
With my heart beating far too fast for something that’s supposed to be fun, I cross the street and trot over to Rider’s.
But Sienna’s right. Being afraid is no way to live.
I’m a take-charge girl in a lot of areas of my life. Work. School. Taking care of Poppy. Why not take a chance tonight and see how that feels?
Can I go after what I really want, even if it is a six-foot-four quarterback with sterling-silver eyes?
My pulse rate skyrockets when I think of the possibilities, when I consider not letting fear pen me in like it has so many times in the past.
Not bothering to knock, because they’ll never hear it over the music, I let myself in.
A wall of heat hits me from people crowding into the living room. The lights are dim, but not so dark that I can’t see. The furniture has been pushed to the side, and people dance to a pulsing beat.
In the far corner, I spot Rider, surrounded by several of the guys and a boatload of girls. The cynic in me waits for him to turn to one of those women and flirt—I’ve seen more than my fair share of Rider flirting with other girls over the years—but he seems oblivious to the attention.
My stomach flips as his eyes skim the crowd, landing on me almost immediately.
He smiles, and I start walking toward him, unable to resist his pull.
Breaking from the group, he joins me in the middle of the dance floor and leans down, his lips brushing my ear and sending goosebumps down my arms. “You look hot as fuck.”
Ignoring the dirty looks from a few of the girls staring at us, I laugh. Is this Party Rider who compliments all women or is this something just for me? I don’t know, but I’m willing to take it at face value because the compliment feels good.
I’m pleased with the outfit Sienna encouraged me to wear. It’s an off-the-shoulder red sweater that’s fitted but not too scandalous, which I paired with a slim black skirt and wedge sandals. Since I was only running across the street, I didn’t wear a jacket.
As a freshman, I would’ve wanted to blend into the walls, but I’m thinking there has to be something to what Sienna said about the degree of growth people experience in college, because being a wallflower is the last thing I want right now.
“Wanna drink?”
When I nod, he laces his fingers through mine and tugs me behind him as he makes his way to the kitchen, where he grabs me a beer. I almost laugh at the setup. Three kegs, a mountain of Solo cups, and a dozen pizza boxes.
“The meal of champions?” I joke as I down a beer. It’s not my favorite thing to drink, but maybe it’ll help curb these butterflies.
He gives me a crooked grin, the one that makes his dimples pop and my ovaries throb. “I’m almost ashamed to say that I’m not even sure how all this shit gets here. Someone always orders. But we have plenty of food. Are you hungry?”
I let my eyes boldly pass over him. Rider’s hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and a golden scruff lines his rugged jaw. My pulse quickens as I think about how that would feel abrading my neck and chest and thighs.
I want to tell him I’m starving. Ravenous.
Maybe it’s the alcohol or that chat I had with Sienna, but I’m more than ready to go after what I want. We’re not freshmen anymore. I’m not some naive little girl, and I have no illusions about what this is.
He’s wearing an old, dark gray t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest and strains at his biceps, tapering at his slender waist. His faded jeans mold to his muscular thighs.
He’s sex on a stick.
And I’m ready for a serving.
Am I hungry?I cock an eyebrow at him. “Depends. What’s on the menu?”
His gray eyes smolder as he stares at me. He takes my hand, pulls me against him, bites my ear gently and whispers, “Then let’s get an appetizer,” before he leads me back to the living room where music washes over us as we melt into the crowd.
At first I’m confused. Did I not just blatantly hit on the man? Admittedly, I’ve never done that before, but I thought my message was pretty straightforward.
But then he stops in the middle of the room and wraps me in his arms.
