Reed #2
Three hours later we are pulling up outside a large house owned by an old friend of ours, Simon Hollister.
We all attended Hallows Prep together, and he is known for throwing these types of parties.
They are always fun, packed, and more importantly, private.
Simon only has one rule for his parties, and it’s that you have to check your phone into the vault before you enter.
No phones means no pictures, which means whatever debauchery occurs here, never sees the light of day.
Hence why I took my time getting ready before I came here.
With no more interviews lined up, and my father out of town on business for the next week, I am free to be me.
My blond hair is now dyed baby blue, and midnight blue stains my fingernails, to match the flick of eyeliner across my eyes.
I’m wearing a fitted cropped, white sleeveless shirt, with a black leather jacket, and baggy blue jeans.
I’ve paired my look with a silver chain around my neck, and one around my waist to match the glitter dusting my eyes.
I look hot if I do say so myself, and Eloise squealed when she saw me, and hasn’t stopped gushing over my hair since.
Once we dump our phones in the vault, we make our way into the party to find it already brimming with people.
Most of them I recognize from previous parties, even a couple of past hookups, but there are still a few unfamiliar faces.
Enough for me to slowly trail my gaze around in search of some fun, but first Eloise drags me to the kitchen to get a drink.
“Guys, you came!” Simon greets us both with a hug, eyeing us both appreciatively, he’s the only one of us who is open about his sexuality to the world.
Which is why he throws these parties, as a safe haven for the likes of us.
He’s the kind of guy every queer person wants in their corner and I wish I could experience the level of freedom he has.
“As if we would miss it,” Eloise tells him, as she hugs another of his friends, and I pull him in for an embrace of my own.
“Reed, I’m digging the hair, babe,” he praises me, and I wink.
“I look hot right?” I tease, and he nods with a smile as he pours both Eloise and I a drink.
For the next hour we catch up, drink, dance, and have fun mingling with some of our old school friends, the ones who know all our secrets, and it’s already turning into a great night.
One guy I don’t know has already been making eyes at me from across the room, and I let my gaze flick over him a few times with a smile.
I like the feel of his attention, but just as I decide I am going to make my move, a group of three guys cut off my line of sight, as they make their way into the party.
The first two I know well from school, Knox Walker and Beckett Ford, both of them are smiling wide, leaning in to whisper in one another’s ears as they survey the party themselves, but my gaze is caught on the last guy.
Not just because he’s the hottest of the three, but because I met him today.
Wilder fucking Miles. What the hell is he doing here?
I knew Knox and Beckett knew him from their fancy racing school, but I didn’t realize they were close enough to party together.
I guess I have a lot to learn about them.
Wilder isn’t smiling like the other two, in fact, he looks as if he would rather be anywhere but here, and I can only guess he has been dragged here under duress.
Gone is his smart press attire and race suit, and in its place is dark black jeans and a black hoodie.
I can see the joint tucked behind his ear from here, and he is eyeing everyone in his vicinity as if he thinks they are beneath him.
His father never called me, not that I thought he would, but I’m sure Wilder heard all about it from him anyway.
Everyone knows all eyes will be on him this upcoming PRI season, and I’m sure his father wants it to be for the right reasons, and not all the wrong ones.
When his eyes flick across the room to where I am watching him, they pause on me ever so slightly before he moves on. I guess he doesn’t feel like being an arrogant dick toward me for the second time today, but still I scoff.
For the next couple of hours I try to ignore him, even indulging the guy who was watching me before in some dancing and conversation, but somehow my eyes always end up back on Wilder.
What’s more interesting is the amount of times I find his eyes on me.
I’m sure he’s wondering about my change in style between our two meetings today, but thankfully he isn’t bold enough to come over and ask.
I imagine he doesn’t care enough, and when I lose track of him, I try to push him out of my mind.
Another hour passes and I also lose Eloise, until she texts me and tells me she’s found someone to hook up with.
Rolling my eyes, I down another drink and excuse myself from the guy I have been dancing with, making my way upstairs to find a restroom.
Once I’m done, I find myself making excuses not to go back downstairs, and instead head to an open room at the bottom of the hall, finding a library with a balcony and slipping inside.
Cool air floats in through the open doors, and I walk toward them looking out and surveying the grounds of Simon’s house. It’s a beautiful mansion set on around 50 acres, and whoever designed their outdoor area has done a stunning job that I can’t help but admire.
“Nice place, right?” A smooth voice startles me, and when I step fully onto the balcony I find Wilder Miles sitting on the edge, inhaling deeply on his joint, his eyes on the same view.
“Real nice,” I reply, coming to lean against the concrete opposite him, watching him closely.
When he turns toward me and finds me staring, he cocks an eyebrow. “Want some?” Even under the night sky, I can see his green eyes sparkling in amusement as he watches me.
One of his feet rests on top of the ledge he sits on, his arm outstretched across his knee and his head dropped back against the wall. Even the shadows seem to cling to him, and that should be my first warning, but I was never good when looking into the eyes of danger.
“Excuse me?” I ask, ignoring the cocky smirk that spreads across his jaw, making him look even more attractive.
His hair is that perfect shade of onyx, and standing at around 6 foot 3, if the internet is to be believed, I imagine he turns heads everywhere he goes. Wilder Miles isn’t just hot, he’s fucking gorgeous, and worse, he knows it too.
“Of the joint,” he confirms, as if he didn’t mean the silent innuendo he let float between us, before he takes one last hit, holding my stare as he does it, then offering it to me.
I’m almost sure he could convince God himself to commit sins that even the Devil wouldn’t, but still I shake my head, somehow already addicted to the allure of him. “No thank you, I don’t smoke.” At my response he grins again slightly, pulling the joint back to himself.
“Neither do I.” Then he takes another drag before letting his gaze trail over me from head to toe. “You got a name, Blue?” he asks, and at that I frown a little, searching his stare and finding no recognition, before it hits me.
This prick doesn’t recognize me.
Which I guess makes sense, he barely gave me a second look this afternoon, and I don’t exactly look the same right now, so Wilder Miles doesn’t have a clue who I really am at this moment.
I contemplate telling him, but then another idea pops into my head and there is enough alcohol in my system to make it sound like a good one.
Oh this is going to be fun, and besides, it’s not like I’m ever going to see him again after tonight.