She misses a step, confused that I’m hauling her with me. She looks back over her shoulder at Anae as if for help. It’s kind of entertaining. Why would she look to Anae to save her when Anae is the one who threw her to the wolves, to begin with?
Not that she knows that, I suppose.
She’s also likely much more normal than Anae, and running things through her normal girl filter, she has to imagine Anae’s not too happy to see her boyfriend with his hands on another girl.
“You never told me your name,” I remind her.
“I’ve decided not to.” She scowls up at me, then peels my hand off her hip.
I let go to grab my shirt, but I grab her wrist before she can get far. She tugs on it trying to get free, but her body has just been through a stressful ordeal. Even in full health, I could easily overpower her, so it doesn’t net her the results she’s hoping for.
“Chase, what are you doing?”
That name on her lips raises my hackles. I give her a sideways look as we walk. “My friends call me Dare.”
“We’re not friends.”
“Everyone calls me Dare,” I amend since that’s more accurate.
“I don’t want to call you anything, I just want to go home. I never should have come to this party in the first place. Let me go,” she says more forcefully as she realizes I’m about to drag her into my house.
“Aubrey!”
I hear someone call out behind me, but it doesn’t attract my attention because I don’t realize that’s her name. She looks back and relief transforms her features, then someone runs up in front of me.
“Hey, Dare, what are you doing?”
Rather than plow through the brown-eyed brunette with the mousy hair, I stop. “Making sure she doesn’t leave before the ambulance comes.”
Janie something-or-other’s gaze flickers to my hand locked around Aubrey’s wrist. It makes her uneasy, but she doesn’t come out and say so. Her tentative gaze shifts to mine and she makes a pitiful attempt at a peace-keeping smile. “I can take over from here. I won’t let her go anywhere. I agree with you, she needs to see a doctor.”
“Janie, no,” Aubrey says, sounding astounded that presumably her friend is betraying her. “I can’t go to the hospital—”
Janie vibrates with, “Shut up and let me save you,” energy. It causes me to crack a smile as she reaches toward my hand, obviously wanting to pry it off her friend’s wrist, but then thinks better of it and meets my gaze, silently begging me to let go so this doesn’t get weird.
I do.
Relief transforms her features as she grabs her friend’s arm and gently pulls her closer. “Oh my god, are you okay? I was inside, I didn’t even know you were here…”
Her friend begins to ramble, but I stop listening. I’m not interested in what she has to say. I’m interested in observing the girl in the striped dress.
If she were wearing literally anything else, the material might cling to her wet body, giving me a good glimpse of her tits and perhaps the rest of her curves, too. Instead, the stiffer fabric retains much of its shape and continues to do its job of keeping her covered up, much to my annoyance.
I don’t get to look for long, anyway. Anae struts over in her Prada sandals and the black, slinky dress that is designed to capture and hold my attention. Unlike Aubrey’s dress that hides her body even when she’s soaked, Anae’s dress drapes and clings strategically so there’s little left to imagine—you know she’ll look as good out of it as she does in it.
And she does.
Anae has a nice body, but a black heart.
I have friends who find that more interesting than I do. People are always fascinated by what isn’t familiar to them. I suppose that’s why it holds no particular interest to me. I already know what it’s like to be heartless and calculating. It’s boring as fuck. Give me something I haven’t experienced if you want to hold my attention.
Not that Aubrey does. She seems eager to be rid of my attention. She leans close to her friend and turns to leave without so much as a goodbye as soon as Anae approaches. I’m not sure which one of us she’s more eager to be away from.
“I see you met Aubrey,” Anae says, her tone snide as she utters her name. “I fucking hate that girl.”
“I gleaned that when you tried to kill her.”
She feigns innocence but doesn’t put much effort into the performance. “It’s not my fault Kalea threw her into the pool.”
“Mm-hmm. And I’m sure it wasn’t your fault that picture was snapped and sent to her, or that Kevin cornered her upstairs to begin with.”
Plucking the toothpick out of her martini glass, she brings it to her lips and smiles at me playfully. “I’m entirely innocent.” She catches the olive between her teeth and slides it off the toothpick, sultry suggestions dancing in her eyes.