His eyes looked glassy and bored into mine with a burning intensity. "I like my guests to have a good time," he replied, boldly stroking a hand up my bare arm. "Maybe you want the fun to continue," he added, stroking my arm in wide circles before slipping his finger under the thin strap of my dress.
My heart began to thump heavily in my chest while goose bumps formed on my arms. He pulled me closer, his eyes holding mine as his hand moved from my arm to the nape of my neck, anchoring me in place. "Awfully cocky with your skills," I lightly teased. I could have pulled away, put some distance between us, but I was more than a little curious to see how kissing him would measure up to the boys back home.
"When you're good, you're good. What can I say," he moaned moments before crushing his mouth to mine.
His lips were warm and insistent as they set out to devour me. Evan definitely knew how to kiss. I had to hand it to him. He possessed a confident sensuality that boys back home lacked. The only problem was the kiss didn't have the effect on me I was hoping for. Not that I was expecting fireworks or something cliché like that, but some kind of spark would have been nice. His breath tasted slightly like beer and smoke, but I was used to that. Let's just say a girl knows when the connection is there with a guy, and with Evan it wasn't there.
He must have felt differently because his hands began roaming my body like he was given a free pass. I allowed his exploration because it wasn't totally unpleasant, even though I knew a relationship between us was unlikely to happen. Only when his hand slid up my dress and between my legs did I put an abrupt halt to our make-out session.
"Not so fast, surfer boy. You're going to have to work for those privileges," I said, trying to sound playful as I attempted to squirm out of his arms. He held me firm without budging an inch. I pressed my elbow into his gut, no longer in the mood to be cute.
"Just as long as my work pays off," he said, making his point abundantly clear as he tightened his arms around me.
"No, thanks," I said, glaring at him. I tried to remain calm in spite of the anger bubbling up inside me. He finally released his hold when I applied more pressure against his ribs. Surging to my feet, I took a giant step backward to put some distance between us. What an asshole. I was so sick of guys being douche hounds. Was this all I was ever destined to attract? Grabby, feely guys who felt they had a free ride on the Rain Train.
"Hey, no reason to get all prickly. I just thought you were looking for a good time," Evan said, climbing to his feet.
"And screwing you would be considered a good time?"
"I've never had any complaints," he said in a mocking tone. I could tell by his body language that Evan wasn't used to rejection.
I snorted. "Give me a break." He was probably right though. I knew plenty of girls back home wh
o would have gladly spread their legs for him.
I was so mad, I didn't notice everyone had gathered around the railing of the deck and erupted into loud cheering. "What's going on?" I asked, thankful for the interruption.
Evan relaxed and grinned devilishly at me. A few minutes ago his smile might have pulled at the invisible string in my gut, but I had a clearer picture of who he was now. "Party ritual," he said, tugging me toward the railing. I intended to pull away and leave, but I was curious about what this party ritual was that had everyone so excited.
I peered out into the darkness, barely able to see the ocean waves rolling in, but nothing more. I had no idea what we were all supposed to be looking at until I heard the sound of glass breaking below. Looking down the line of people standing against the rail, it seemed everyone was taking turns lobbing bottles over the side. The bottles shattered against the large rocks that made up a type of bulkhead between the beach and Evan's house.
My thoughts immediately shifted to my first encounter with Josh and I recalled how he mentioned the trash and debris getting taken out to sea by the tide. I shook my head with disgust. I had even defended these freaking people when it now appeared Josh had been right all along. Looking to my left, I spotted Paris and Leslie laughing hysterically as they lobbed two bottles each over the railing. They were so smashed their bottles barely made it over the side. The acid in my stomach churned as bile began to rise in my throat. Buttercup would break out in hives if she knew I was standing here doing nothing to fix the situation. She was the kind of person who would walk ten extra steps to pick up a piece of trash. She and Butch concerned themselves with things like our carbon footprint and the shape of the environment for future generations.
Everyone around me continued to dispose of all the empty bottles from the party by throwing them over the rail. It was like a sick game to see who could throw them the farthest. Not that it mattered. It was too dark to see anything. No one cared where the bottles landed. They only cheered for the sound of shattering of glass.
"Duck and cover. Incoming," Steve yelled. Pretending his bottle was a grenade, he made a show of pulling the pin and ducking for cover after he threw it. He laughed at himself like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever seen. What a tool.
"This is mature," I muttered.
Evan grinned at me. "I'm telling you, you gotta try it," he laughed, handing me an empty beer bottle before lobbing one of his own over the rail.
Everyone pressed against the rail as much as possible, eager to join the idiocy. Surely the neighbors could hear what was happening. I was surprised the cops hadn't shown up yet. As much as I knew Buttercup would expect me to be some voice of reason in this situation, this was exactly the kind of scene I couldn't afford being caught up in. I needed to leave.
"I'm out," I told Evan, who had taken a long pull from a half-empty bottle of Cuervo Gold before chucking it over the side. "This isn't my idea of a good time," I said, backing away with the beer bottle held loosely in my hand.
"That's because you haven't tried it." He snagged my wrist and dragged me toward him, using his body to keep me pressed against the rail. Nothing like a drunken creep with dominance issues. "Come on. Give it a try. Trust me, there's something freeing about it. It's like telling the world who's fucking in charge."
"Knock it off," I said, attempting to yank my arm out of his grasp. Shoving off the rail, I was able to squirm enough to free up my leg to stomp on his foot. He staggered backward until landing in a heap on his backside. "God, Evan, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Either he was too drunk to feel the pain or I hadn't stomped his foot as hard as I thought because he remained on the ground laughing with everyone else who had found humor in our exchange.
I could have punched them all in their smug, drunk faces. "This is your big rebellious way of sticking it to the man—littering?" I said sarcastically, waving the bottle I was holding in the air.
He bobbed his head, grinning at me like he didn't have a care in the world. "Sticking it to the man," he hooted hysterically.
I rolled my eyes without any further comment. There was no point in arguing with someone drunk off his ass. It was time for me to leave. I forced my way through the group of people who had encircled us when suddenly everyone began scrambling like an alarm went off. Anyone who had been in the house was now frantically pushing and shoving to escape through the patio doors as if they were being chased.
"Remain where you are and put your hands in the air," a loud voice demanded through a bullhorn.