Ah... so Logan is the one she holds a grudge against.
“You’ll meet them tomorrow,” she continues. “They golf every Sunday. Triplets are seventeen, so don’t worry about them much.”
Why would I?
They’re kids.
Freakingillegal.
“Okay, and why are they bad?”
Cass rolls her eyes in an overdrawn, theatrical manner. “I didn’t saybad. They just think they own this goddamn town. They’re players, Thalia. The lot of them. The worst kind, too, because they act like you mean the whole freaking world, and once they fuck you, they won’t call or answer your messages and—” She halts her rant, running out of breath. She sucks in a harsh breath and morphs her scowl into a smile. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, okay? I’m trying to look out for you.”
“Thank you.” I grab her hand, pumping my fingers around hers. She might be sporting a cute smile, but I can tell she’s hurting. “Message received.”
Loud and clear, but I’m not naïve. The way she talks about them, Logan, in particular, the change in her tone and body language hints at the details. She must’ve slept with him, hoping for a happily ever after, and he didn’t deliver.
I’ve no idea why she hates all seven over something one did. I also don’t understand why she expected a happy ending if I’m reading between the lines correctly. Theo reeks of non-commitment from a mile away. Nico gives off the same, albeit much stronger vibe, which tells me Logan and Shawn might be the same. They want sex with no strings attached. None whatsoever. I doubt they get further than a first-name basis.
Cassidy’s friends, Amy and Mary-Jane, arrive moments later. They both wear beautiful, short dresses, perfectly styled hair, and makeup more suited for a catwalk than a girls’ night. After brief introductions, they leave me alone, moving over to the bar to order drinks.
Newport Beach is filled with flawless people, which isn’t surprising. Money has the power to turn anyone into a fashion model. Despite most people here living different, more luxurious lives than the rest of the country, ninety percent of people I’ve met since arriving seem polite and friendly. Friendlier than I’d expect rich people to be.
Theo catches my attention as I glance over my shoulder, checking on the girls. He taps his finger against the neck of his Budweiser, pointing at the bar, silently asking me to meet him there. Too bad I only had one sip from my drink. I push the caipirinha slightly to my left, tapping the glass too, so he’ll see I’m nowhere near done.
The slight smile lifting his lips convinces me to pick up the tempo a little bit. Theo’s intriguing. A walking contradiction. He looks, smells, and acts appropriately to theplayertag Cassidy labeled him with, but he knows who Thalia was in Greek mythology, so he might be smart. As far as my life experience goes, that doesn’t happen often.
I’m curious where he learned the few words he speaks in Greek. I won’t get a chance to ask if I finish my drink in sync with Cass and her friends. After Cassidy’s venomouschoke on your beer, Hayes,he probably won’t come anywhere near me if I approach the bar with the girls by my side.
They return a minute later, dismissing my silly worries—each holds a bottle of prosecco and a flute. No way I’d crawl out of bed tomorrow if I drank a bottle of bubbly tonight. For some reason, it hits me harder than any other alcohol.
The girls chat about shopping, work, and Amy’s upcoming senior year of college, involving me in the conversation wherever possible while deftly poking for information, asking about my life choices. Like everyone I’ve crossed paths with so far, they’re curious why I moved halfway across the world by myself. Why I abandoned my friends and family.
We just met, so gruesome truths might not be the best way to start our friendship. I could tell them that everyone I ever loved turned their backs on me, but if I say A, I’ll have to say B and explain why. That’s not happening. It’s not a topic I’ll discuss with anyone unless I have no choice.
So, I lie. I keep the answers light, feeding my new friends the believable, boring story about searching for a better life. All the while, I sip the caipirinha, fighting my stupid curiosity and trying not to glance over my shoulder. Easier said than done. A few times, when I shift positions, I catch a glimpse of Theo in my peripheral vision.
The scar marking his cheek doesn’t belittle how striking he looks dressed in plain jeans and a gray t-shirt, the fabric on the verge of coming apart at the seams as his biceps bulge, shifting beautifully when he pats Nico’s back,
“I’ll get another drink,” I say, downing the last third of my drink as if it’s a hundred degrees and I’m dehydrated. “I’ll be right back.”
“Get a bottle of prosecco,” MJ says, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “Save your legs, girl.”
“You do not want to party with me when I’m drinking bubbly. Trust me.” I spin on my heel, finding Theo on his feet, looking at me over a sea of heads, and my smile tightens.
He says something to Nico, whose eyes snap to meet mine. His face remains impassive, not an ounce of emotion other than meticulously maintained disinterest. The crushing confidence surrounding him makes my skin crawl, and not in a good way. He’s not a man I’d like to spend one minute alone with.
I set the empty glass on the bar, summoning the bartender. “One more, please.”
A spicy, masculine scent consumes my senses when Theo stops beside me, a step closer than earlier. “I see you liked the drink. Did Cassidy tell you torun for your lifeyet?”
“She used different words, but I guess you could say that.”
He rests one elbow on the counter, his body facing my way like an unconscious invitation. “Why aren’t you?”
I glance at my feet, prompting him to do the same. “Have you seen a woman run in five-inch heels?”
“No, but I won’t mind a demonstration.”