Chapter 11
ELEVEN
HENDRIX
“Damn, son, you clean up nicely.” Jameson whistles, looking me up and down. “Not bad for a dude who only decided he was going to come to this shindig last night.”
“Not bad, Hunt,” Cash chimes in, standing next to his older brother, Cane.
We invited Cash and a few of the other freshmen who have to live in the dorms this year to our pre-homecoming party. Which is a just a bunch of us dudes having a few drinks. Cash and I may have not started off on the right foot, but I like the guy. His brother is cool too.
“Yeah, well, what can I say? Someone has to go with you homely fuckers so that the women will at least give you a second look,” I tease them, taking a swig from my beer. “Christ, big Hale, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of your NEU baseball attire. Didn’t know you had any other clothes.”
He looks down at himself and grins. “Don’t get too used to it, Hunt. Within a couple of hours, I’ll be back in my regular shit. Creature of habit and all.”
Cane Hale eats, breathes, and sleeps baseball. I guess as the starting pitcher for a D1 college, you kind of have to be that way though. And I know he’s hoping to go pro one day.
Jameson heads over to the cupboard and opens it up to take out a bunch of shot glasses before grabbing the vodka and filling them all to the top.
“Oh shit, here we go.” Clark smirks, and the only reason why that fuckstick is here right now is because I told Jameson to invite him.
Isla said she was going to the dance with someone—I needed to make sure it wasn’t him. Luckily, I watched out the window as her Jeep drove by a bit ago, loaded with a bunch of chicks.
If he was going to take her, I probably would have knocked him out, tied him up, and locked him in my closet.
“Come on, fellas,” he says, holding one up. “Well, besides little Hale. He’s the DD.”
I almost feel bad for Cash, but he offered to be the designated driver tonight.
I mean, it’s not like I want to show up completely annihilated.
But truth be told, I don’t think that Cash even drinks.
He’s a freshman, his stepdad is the assistant coach, and the dude is way too hard on himself.
That doesn’t leave much room for fucking off.
Me? I seem to balance fucking off and playing hockey just fine together. Then again, I grew up in an atmosphere that was extremely fucked up, so I learned to excel in the chaos.
“Cheers to us all looking handsome as fuck tonight,” Jameson drawls. “And to all of us getting laid too.”
“Cheers,” we all repeat, clanking our glasses together before pouring them back.
Quickly, Jameson refills them, and we down another before he claps his hands together.
“Woo!” he cheers, slapping his hand on the countertop. “All right, let’s roll. I’ve got my dancing shoes on tonight, motherfuckers.”
Grabbing my phone from the table, I slide it into my pocket and follow the rest of the guys out the door.
Isla may have said no to being my date tonight, but she’s definitely going to have to face me when I get there.
ISLA
On the makeshift dance floor at the campus’s largest fraternity house, I sway with my friends to the music, letting myself get lost in the sound, even though it’s not easy when I can feel someone’s gaze on me.
It’s been like this since about half an hour after we got here. I haven’t looked around to find Hendrix, but I know he’s here. I can feel it.
Daring myself to sweep the room with my gaze, I find him standing in the shadows in a corner with a group of guys, all talking to one another, eyes on the dance floor.
In the darkness, the strobe lights illuminate his face just enough for my eyes to meet his. I could look away. Correction: I should look away.
Guys like Hendrix Hunt are dangerous. They tell you all the things you want to hear and make you believe them, and then they’re onto the next girl. I used him in that supply closet, and now, he’s looking at me like I’m some sort of chase.
I run my hands down my body as I dance, and even across the large room, I watch his jaw tighten.
He’s not looking at other girls tonight, and I suppose that’s because right now, I’m his conquest. As stupid as it is, knowing his gaze hasn’t strayed from me is exhilarating. It gives me life.
I look away from him and back to my friends as we all move, turning into sweaty messes with the smell of Sol de Janeiro filling the air around us.
My spray tan didn’t do much, seeing as I washed it after less than two hours.
But it gave me enough of a glow to feel confident in this short black dress.
And Haven doing my hair in this messy updo added to my look for tonight, which was certainly an upgrade from my everyday appearance.
After a while, we all agree that it’s time to go get a drink and cool off for a bit. We’ve been dancing since we got here well over an hour ago, and it’s hotter than hell.
Haven and Harley head over to see some of their teammates, leaving me, Summer, and Eden at the bar by ourselves. I fan myself but can’t seem to cool down.
“I’m going to find the bathroom,” I tell Summer and Eden, continuing to wave my hand in front of my face. “My blood runs hot. I need to splash cold water on myself before I die.”
“It’s upstairs, the third or fourth door down the hall on the right,” Summer says, nodding. “We’ll be somewhere out here.”
Walking off, I head toward the staircase at the end of the dimly lit hallway. Everything being so obscure in here makes it a little eerie, especially with the music blaring from the main living area. If something happened … no one would hear me.
I shake my head at myself. Nothing is going to happen. I’m at the freaking homecoming party with hundreds of other students, for God’s sake.
Trotting up the stairs, I walk into the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror before grabbing a paper towel and soaking it with cold water. I don’t want to ruin my eye makeup because Haven worked hard on that, but I need to at least cool my forehead and cheeks off.
Once I’ve pressed the wet paper towel to my head long enough for my cheeks to go from bright red to a light pink, I toss it into the trash, wash my hands, and head out the door.
Even though I know I’m crazy, being upstairs, away from the rest of the crowd, is creeping me out, and I pick up the pace to try to get out of here faster.
But I’m barely out of the bathroom and headed toward the staircase when someone speaks, letting me know I’m not up here alone.
“You should be careful, going places all alone, Nineteen,” Hendrix’s deep voice drawls from somewhere behind me. “You don’t know who’s lurking around.”
My feet begin to slow, and a slight smile tugs at my lips. Lately, wherever I go, he seems to be there.
Turning slowly, I shrug. “You mean guys like yourself?”
With his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyes playfully narrowed, he takes a few more steps before stopping right before me. “That’s exactly what I mean, Nineteen.”
Reaching forward, he runs his fingers through a loose curl that frames my face. “I like your hair better when it’s down and all wild, Hardy.”
My breath hitches, and I can’t decipher if it’s from his touch, his words, or his delicious scent. But whatever it is, it has my brain going fuzzy.
Blinking a few times, I swallow. “What … are you doing up here?” I whisper. “Why aren’t you downstairs with everyone else?”
“Because you aren’t downstairs,” he says matter-of-factly, as if I should have already known that. “And you coming up here alone is just asking for trouble. There are people with bad intentions everywhere, Isla.”
In this moment, I don’t know if he’s talking about himself or other people. Because truth be told, I don’t even understand Hendrix’s intentions when it comes to me.
“I can take care of myself, Hunt.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he muses, and as the song below us switches to a slow one, he looks at me, wearing a thoughtful expression. “You know, since you wouldn’t be my date, I think the least you could do is give me one measly dance.”
“And why would I do that?” I shrug. “Why would I dance with you?”
“Because you want to,” he tosses back. “So, come on. What are we waiting for?”
For whatever reason, my lips turn up as I look at this man holding his hand out to me. He’s supposed to be the big bad wolf, yet right now, he seems so gentle.
“Is that a smile?” he drawls, taking in my grin. “Holy fuck, I need to document the day Isla Hardy smiled at me instead of glared or rolled her eyes.”
That only makes my smile grow, though I try to fight it and swat at his chest. I don’t even know why I’m grinning right now, and yet here I am.
“I can’t dance with you, Hunt.” I shrug. “It would be all over social media tomorrow, and I’m not dealing with that.”
“Because your dad is Cam Hardy?” he asks, a questioning look on his face.
I give him a simple nod. “Pretty much.”
It’s just silence between us for a moment before, finally, he swallows. “So, dance with me up here then. There’s no one here to take a picture.” His voice grows raspy. “Just us.”
“Why?” I whisper. “Why do you want to dance with me in the upstairs hallway of a party?”
His fingers rub my chin, and he grins. “Because if it’s the only way I get to, I’ll take it.”
Even though my heart does a flip, I shake my head and laugh at him. “Wow, you’re cheesy, aren’t you?”
“Just for you, Nineteen.” His words come out as serious as a heart attack.
Even though my skin was cooling off, when his hands slide around my waist slowly, I’m back to being on fire yet again. Reluctantly, I skim my hands up his chest and wrap them around his neck, and in the shadows of the hallway, away from chaos and everything else … we dance.
I dance with a guy I swore not long ago that I hated. And the thing is … my heart is telling me that maybe I don’t hate him anymore.