SIX #3
My left arse cheek had gone to sleep, and I was just about to stretch my legs, gently removing Nancy’s hands from around my neck. And then I saw her, Amelie Thorn.
My heart seized up in my chest, and I was certain I held my breath.
She looked like a fricking goddess. Her hair had been left loose, falling halfway down her back in soft curls, styled by Jessa, no doubt.
Her face had a fine coat of makeup, but nothing to diminish her natural beauty: unlike most of the other girls, who thought that the orange look was still attractive.
The dress she was wearing clung to her tiny frame as if it were sewn into her skin.
From where I was sitting, it looked blue, and the design suited her, making her stand out amongst the scantily dressed females surrounding her: feminine and classy.
She had also put on a little weight, courtesy of our chef Angelo, and it suited her.
“Do you want another drink?” Nancy said, but I didn’t reply. I was too distracted.
I could see a handful of guys checking Amelie out as she stood hesitantly beside Jessa.
My sister appeared to be introducing her to my teammates.
Something I told her not to do. She then walked her over towards a group of science geeks who hadn’t even been invited.
If my sister thought she could pimp the girl out to her low-grade friends, she had another thing coming.
Jessa, on the other hand, was dressed as if she charged by the hour, which was odd.
She didn’t usually show so much skin; the black number was way too tight.
I wondered if it was an attempt to make her ex jealous.
A ‘look what you lost’ type of thing, as no doubt, Jordan would be at the party somewhere.
“Wow, who’s that with your sister?” Nancy questioned, briefly re-capturing my attention. I cut her a look.
“She’s my stepmother’s niece. She’s staying with us for a few days.” Another fricking lie.
Nancy fluffed her hair, “She’s really pretty.”
“If you like that sort of thing,” I replied in a fake, bland voice.
The gorgeous girl perched on my lounger gave me a knowing smile, and after a couple of beats, I returned it.
Nancy Robinson was as shrewd as they come.
After a quick roll of her eyes, Nancy went on her phone, and I finished off the rest of my beer, twisting my head back to the place where most people’s attention still lingered.
My hand crushed the cup I was holding as I caught Tanner leaning against the side of the house with his eyes on Jessa’s arse.
He had his sunglasses resting on his nose.
Everything he wore was designer and would have cost a fortune, the pretentious little shit.
Although ‘little’ wasn’t really an accurate description for the six-foot-three tower of muscle.
The bright white Converse he wore with his jeans looked brand new, possibly the ones he purchased with Weston in town.
Tanner’s eyes snagged mine, shrugging with a cocky grin when I gave him the ‘you touch my sister, you die’ memo glare.
Eventually, he raised his hands in an ‘I surrender’ motion and turned away.
Toning down my death-threat-themed message, I checked out the telling faces of those who surrounded my sister and the stray.
The girls looked pea-green with envy, and the boys watched Amelie’s every move with a hungry eye that I didn’t appreciate.
I wasn’t too worried about the boys who were checking out my sister.
Jessa could usually look after herself. But with little Amelie Thorn, she looked too damn sweet, shark bait.
Even with the smile she had painted on, I could tell from her body language that she was a duck out of water; nervous and trying to hide it.
“Back in a sec,” Weston suddenly rasped from beside me, jumping to his feet. I didn’t miss how quickly Halo looked up from her phone.
“Are you going to the bar?” the pretty, freckle-faced redhead said hopefully.
I watched him look back and forth between where Jessa and Amelie were and then at Halo.
Halo Dumas was in the year below us (the same one Amelie would be starting on the following Monday).
She’d had a crush on Weston since she’d first moved to Chiddingfold from a village in France when she was nine. Not that the twit would ever notice.
“Er, yeah. Can do. What do you want?”
“A vodka and Coke, merci?” Her request sounded like just that: a request, as she knew her underaged-arse was pushing it. She was our friend, and we looked out for our own.
Weston dashed a hand down his face, peering down at her. “How many have you had?”
“I’ve only had two beers,” she confessed, her cheeks pink as one of the other girls sitting close by smirked.
Fucking bitches. Halo used to be teased at school due to her thick French accent, which was much softer now.
The mean girls would call her Halo Dumbass.
When we took her under our wing, that shit was shut down within weeks.
I cut West a knowing look, and he read my code, just like he always did. “A vodka and Coke coming up, ma cherie,” he responded with a wink. Halo’s entire face brightened. Did the blind fool even realise he’d just made the girl’s night?
When Weston had opted to take GCSE French, and then again at A-level, I had wondered if there was anything in that? Only for nothing to fucking happen. It was a shame, as someone like Halo would have been good for West. I stayed out of that shit, though, too much of a headache.
“Oh, could I have a Stella?” the girl who had tittered at Halo called out.
With a deadpanned expression, West replied. “You can get your own Lacey,” and walked away. That’s my boy, Lacey Richards may look like a Victoria’s Secret model, but she had nothing to say for herself; surface level at best.