18. Chapter 18
“Ican’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I say, hiding my face in my hands.
“Shut up,” Lisa says as she applies her bright-red lipstick. “You’re hot. And we can’t have a complete Village People line up without the cop.”
I pull my hands away from my face to observe myself in the mirror. I’ll hand it to Lisa; she did a fantastic job on my makeup. The smoky eye she gave me really makes my blue eyes pop, and thankfully she went easy on the blush. Even the lipstick shade is a more muted red. My hair is cute too. The loose curls spill out from under the police hat like a waterfall as they cascade onto my shoulders.
But this costume, if you could even call it that, isn’t anything more than full-coverage lingerie. The hem of my dress doesn’t even cover my whole ass. The fishnet tights only add to the effect, as does the zipper in front that stops halfway up my torso. If I bend over even slightly, people will see everything I usually keep under lock and key.
“I’ll probably be arrested for indecent exposure,” I joke, but Lisa glares.
“No one is going to complain.” She puts the finishing touches on her makeup, fluffs her hair, and pulls me in for a side hug. “We’re going to be the hottest girls there. Come on, let’s get Jackie and Hannah.”
The Halloween party Lisa is dragging us to is only a few houses down the street. Makes for an easy walk home, though it’s cold enough, I’d be fine paying for an Uber, too. The four of us stroll down the street, trying not to break our ankles in the hooker heels we’re wearing, and giggling the entire way.
When we reach the house, I’m not at all surprised to hear the music blaring through the speakers, or to see people crowded into every square inch. A lot of people means more eyes to witness me in this ridiculous costume. I tug on the hem of my “dress” as we ascend the front steps.
Lisa pats my shoulder. “Get a grip, Brynn.”
“Tell that to my outfit,” I say, wriggling the costume down as much as possible. “Whose party is this, again?”
“A guy from my Econ class.”
“A guy? Or a guy you know?”
Lisa rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know him. His name’s Brent.” A smile pulls at her lips. “We sit next to each other and talk every day. He’s cool, don’t worry.”
I’m not worried about Brent. I’m worried about the hundred pairs of eyes that will be ogling all the square inches of my exposed skin.
As we enter the house, we step right into the living room, the beat of heavy bass thumping against the soles of my feet. This is apparently the dance hall. Through the throng of costumes, I see two huge speakers flanking a bay window.
I stiffen as I scan the room, not recognizing anyone here. It’s not surprising if this is an Econ student’s place. Besides my roommates, I don’t know a lot of people who aren’t chemistry majors.
“Let’s get a drink,” Jackie practically shouts in my ear, and I eagerly nod.
Halfway down the hall, a door opens to reveal a clam-baked office. Smoke pours through the doorway, making me cough. I’ll stay out of there. Passing the mudroom, we get a glimpse of a beer pong tournament happening in the garage. That could be fun later, though.
When we finally reach the kitchen, we find the holy grail of self-serve drinks. Half of the counter is stacked with every kind of hard alcohol one could ever want, and the other half has all the mixers. There are also three coolers on the floor. One is labeled “beer,” one is labeled “water,” and the last is labeled “other.”
My eyebrows scrunch as I wonder what that means. Before I can investigate, Lisa claps a guy in a vampire costume on the back. When he spins around, his face lights up as he wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up. He staggers back a bit, but doesn’t fall down.
“You made it!” he shouts, setting her back on the floor.
Lisa adjusts her construction worker shorts. “Of course I did! Thanks for the invite.” She turns to motion to the three of us. “These are my friends.”
The guy shakes all of our hands. “Hi, I’m Brent.”
We exchange pleasantries, and Brent offers to mix us all drinks, which we happily accept. Soon, Lisa falls deep into conversation with him while Jackie, Hannah, and I watch from the sidelines. He seems like a nice guy, and certainly has an eye for her. She’s never mentioned him before, but she’s got a little more pep in her attitude while talking to him.
An acute sense of dismay settles in my chest as I watch them. It would be nice to have a guy of my own to share that sort of thing with. The closest I’ve got is arguing and bickering with Sam.
Sam…
God, I wish he wasn’t such an ass. Three and half months ago, I would have begged to have him by my side, but now he’s just a thorn in it. He pokes at me, sharp and irritating.
I sip my surprisingly delicious drink.
Unfortunately, Sam being the most aggravating person on the planet doesn’t negate the fact that he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever met. Those springy curls that frame his face so perfectly. His strong jaw line. Ugh?and his beautiful brown eyes. I hate that I love the way they look when he wears his glasses.
A longing builds within me, threatening to become a heated desire, so I gulp down the rest of my drink to douse the flames. I motion to Jackie and Hannah that I’m going to refill, and head to the bar. I stop dead in my tracks before I get there.
A cowboy with dark curls peeking from under his hat steps into the kitchen. My breath hitches as I anticipate seeing Sam dressed in chaps, but when he lifts his head, disappointment hits me hard.
It’s not him.
I shake my head. Good. I don’t want to see him.
After pouring myself a more-rum-than-Coke, I rejoin my friends. I find Lisa still in the throes of conversation with Brent while Jackie and Hannah stand to the side, looking bored beyond belief.
“Want to go play pong?” I ask as I make a swoosh gesture with my arm.
Their heads turn between me and Lisa before nodding. “Please,” they whine in unison.
With light giggles, Jackie, Hannah, and I scoot off to the garage. As we walk through the mudroom, a couple of inmates are on their way inside. I turn sideways, pressing my back to the wall to allow space for them to pass.
“I wave my rights, officer,” one of them says, his voice low and confident. Almost familiar.
I whip my head up, squinting in the dim light. “What?”
“Please, take me away,” he begs, and holds his hands out like he wants to be cuffed.
“Dude, don’t be creepy,” his friend says. “Sorry, ladies.” He shoves the other inmate forward, and they leave the mudroom, laughing. As they step into the well-lit hallway, I get a better look at the guy.
He’s not Sam.
Why does that matter? Was I expecting it to be?
I frown. Both at the disappointment beginning to overwhelm me, and the fact that I shouldn’t be disappointed in the first place. The last thing I need is Sam showing up to ruin my night.
Jackie nudges me. “See? Lisa was right. You look hot.”
“Yeah, guess so.”
Inside the garage, Jackie and Hannah take the first game while I stand to the side. I don’t mind being a spectator. It’s better than watching Lisa flirt with Brent.
But when Hannah’s body language turns sexy, I know she’s set her sights on her opponent. The guy is cute, tall with blond hair, muscular, and he’s been paying more attention to Hannah than anyone. That’s a sure way to win her heart. I must be right, because once their game is over, the two of them disappear to get better acquainted.
I track them all the way to the door, my face scrunched with concern.
“She’ll be fine,” Jackie says, grabbing my arm. “Come on, I want to play again.”
With a sigh, I accept that Hannah is an adult who can make her own decisions and saddle up to play beer pong. I’ll text her in a bit anyway. I tip up my cup, finishing my drink, and look across the table at our lone opponent.
He searches the room with his hands in the air. “Who’s up? I need a partner!”
“I’m in!” a voice shouts from the crowd.
A figure emerges, and I’m immediately distracted by his costume. This guy is wearing a suit. No, not a suit. A tuxedo. Complete with a bowtie and everything. As I scan his length, I note how well he fills out the tux. My interest piques until I turn my gaze to the face attached to the body, and my mood goes south.
Sam is here. And he’s wearing his glasses. Dammit.
I’d swallow down the sour taste at the back of my throat, but my mouth has run dry. And my cup is empty.
He fist bumps the other guy before turning to me and Jackie. When he sees us, or me, particularly, his mouth curls into that smug smirk of his. As he rakes over my costume, however, his smirk falls, and he takes his bottom lip between his teeth.
I fight the urge to squirm under his fiery gaze, but when his Adam’s apple bobs, I think this game might be fun, after all.
Since the guys won the last game, they get the first shot. The other guy steps up to shoot. He rarely missed any during the last round. He”s so accurate, I”ve started calling him Ace in my head, so it”s no surprise when his first toss plops right into the front cup.
Sam steps to the middle, moving his arm back and forth like he’s practicing. He shoots and sinks it in the same cup. Their hollers of victory ring out as they high-five each other before Sam looks at me. “Drink up, ladies.”
Gladly. Jackie picks up a corner cup as I grab the one with the ping-pong balls inside, raising it into the air. “Take a good look, boys. You won’t see us drinking much after this.” I remove the balls, and toss back the warm, cheap beer.
“And we get our balls back,” Sam says, holding out his hand.
I snort, my sinuses burning with the carbonation of the beer, and watch Sam’s cheeks redden.
He clears this throat as he pulls at his collar. “We get another turn.”
“I’m aware of the rules,” I say, bouncing the ping pong balls across the table before setting my cup to the side. “But try to hold on to your balls next time.”
Sam narrows his eyes, but I see amusement dancing on his lips.
Over the next few turns, Jackie and I make most of the shots, but the boys aren’t far behind. We now have six cups on the table. Sam and Ace have four. We’re in the lead, but I’d like a solid gain. When Ace steps up, he sinks his shot, no problem.
Shit. If Sam makes it, we’ll be tied. And if he makes it into the same cup, they have a chance to move ahead. We need a distraction.
I fluff my hair, pulling some strands over my shoulder, and tip my chin toward my cleavage. “Oh, no!” I cry. “Jackie, my hair is stuck in my zipper!”
Jackie does a double take at me, but catches on quickly. “Oh, shit. Let me see.” She turns me so I’m facing the boys, and pretends to struggle with the false tangle.
I glance up to find Sam frozen in place, his lips parted and his eyes fixed on my chest. Good.
“Come on, man. Take your shot,” Ace groans.
Jackie tugs a little more on my zipper. “I can’t get it to budge. Move a little for me.”
I do more than just move. I start bouncing on my toes, twisting my torso from side to side. When I look up again, Sam’s mouth has fallen even further, and a maniacal idea crosses my mind.
“Go on, Sam. Shoot already,” I whine, clasping my hands in front of me to push my boobs together.
He shakes his head, like he’s just woken up, licks his lips, and shoots. The ping-pong ball bounces off the rim of the cup and falls to the floor.
With a triumphant cheer, Jackie and I hug.
“No fair. That was blatant interference,” Ace says.
Clearly, he was not fazed by my half-naked body, but Sam was, and that’s all that matters. I zip my costume back up. “I don’t see your partner complaining. Right?”
I shoot Sam a pointed look, but as spirited cheers go up around the room, embarrassment floods me. Apparently, no one is complaining. Whatever. We won. With a shrug, I pick up my ping-pong ball. “Game on.”
Jackie and I mop the floor with the boys after that. We clear their cups while they only manage to get one of ours off the table. Watching Sam and Ace cringe their way through the rest of the warm beer is the most satisfying thing ever.
Ace gulps down his last bit and slams the cup on the table. “Round two?”
“I’m up for a rematch,” Jackie says.
I shake my head. “I’ve had enough cheap beer. I need something with flavor.” I pat Jackie on the shoulder and turn toward the door.
“Better leave while you’re on top,” Sam says. “Since it’s your favorite position.”
With an offended gasp, I spin around, ready to glare my pretty little head off. When I meet Sam’s gaze, though, he winks. Snippets of our night in Grand Junction flash behind my eyelids with every rapid blink, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks. I swallow down my anger and step into the house.
I need something to drink, and fast.