Page 48 of Made for Cyn
Shouts fill the air as she orders shots, and I take mine dutifully even though I’m still gun shy from the last time, but I want to fit in, and alcohol seems to be a common denominator with these people.
“Hey, Iris. Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Natasha says behind us.
Turning, I smile feebly because I sense she still doesn’t care for me, given her propensity for ignoring me at lunch. All thoughts of which flee when I catch the eye of the guy she’s with.
His blue eyes blaze from thick dark lashes under a shock of black hair that falls over his forehead dashingly. He’s gorgeous, like a star in an underwear ad hot, with those pretty eyes and perfectly formed features. Hell, even the scar over his eye, a thin, jagged line that trails toward his temple, is yummy.
He’s staring at me with a smirk, and I flush to the roots of my hair before smiling when he says, “I’m Kane.”
“Oh, hi. Rain,” I say, my jaw dropping when he flashes an insane dimple in his right cheek.
“This is Anya’s older brother,” Natasha says, and tearing my gaze from Kane’s stunning ocean blue eyes, I note her frown and step back mentally.
She’s claimed him, and she’s telling me in no uncertain terms with her filthy glare to back the fuck off. Too bad, because I think, maybe, Kane could be the one to distract me from Cyn, who spends far too much time in the forefront of my X-rated thoughts.
“Hey, Iris,” Kane says, and she smiles absently.
Turning back to Kane with a blush that I damn when his smile widens, I barely hear Iris when she mutters something and wanders off. Before I can say more, though, assuming I could unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth, Natasha grabs Kane’s arm and pulls him away.
I watch them go, waving like a dork, when Kane turns back with another smile. Wow. Just wow. He’s beautiful, and I think he could be interested in me, but I remind myself of Natasha’s glare and turn away. I wouldn’t want her to step on my toes, so I should probably do the same. Pity.
Weaving through the masses in search of either Iris or Anya, my heart stops in my chest when I think I spy Cyn, but when the guy turns, it’s not him. With a mental eye roll, I ignore the whoosh in my stomach and push thoughts of him aside. Tonight is about meeting new friends.
My infernal obsessing about a moody dick with a penchant for chicks and an obsessive need for control needs to stop.
Finally, I find Anya, who greets me with a bright and, if I’m not mistaken, drunk smile before wrapping her arms around my neck with a giggle. “Rain! You came!”
“Um, yeah,” I say, pushing her gently away.
“C’mon, I need a partner,” she slurs, pulling me up to the table.
“Who’s your friend?” a blond guy on the opposite side of the table asks, giving me a friendly smile.
Since he’s eyeing me like a juicy steak and not being the least bit subtle about it, I ignore him and turn away as Anya gives him the evil eye.
“Hey,” she says, turning to me abruptly. “Where’s Cyn? I thought he might come with you?”
With a frown, I glance around as though her uttering his name might conjure him from thin air. “Nope.”
She turns away with a sigh, and I eye her dubiously. I guess her invite makes sense now, although the joke’s on her because he didn’t come. Still, I’m disheartened because I had hoped I was making friends of my own.
Will everything I do circle back around to the gorgeous guy who consumes my thoughts?
Shaking her head with a moue of disappointment, Anya says, “Okay, every time we win, they drink. Just throw the ball in one of their cups.”
Nodding, I watch her go first, her mouth curving in a devilish smile when she hits the rim of the cup in the center of a pyramid of them, and the ball drops inside.
The guy opposite gives her a wink, and she cheers as he chugs down the beer. I’m not half bad, I discover halfway through the game, but they’re better, and I’m pleasantly buzzed when we call it, and Anya rounds the table to suck face with her admirer.
When his friend looks my way, I wander off in search of Iris. I’m in no mood to deflect advances from a douche who looked me up and down like an appetizer. Don’t ask me how this is different from what Cyn does, because I don’t fucking know.
Iris is nowhere to be found, not surprising in this crowd, and with a tired sigh, I change my course for the nearest bathroom because my bladder is protesting vehemently. The house is virtually empty, but for the line outside the bathroom and stopping at the end, I lean my head against the wall.
I’m tipsy enough that the room is spinning, but it’s also bringing out inhibitions that would usually keep me from doing stupid shit, like texting Cyn, but as we’ve established, he consumes me, and I can’t resist.
Rain: Have you lost interest then?
Immediately, the bubbles pop up, indicating a response, and I hold my breath until it comes through.
