“See. I knew you’d like it.” She hands me the dress and accessories I will probably not need and ushers me out of the room to get changed. I drag myself to my bedroom, still regretting agreeing to this. After that little stunt Ryder pulled outside the diner with that girl, I never wanted to be in the same vicinity as him, at least not willingly. The way he treats girls is atrocious. But for the love of Marcy, I dress, pulling my hair into a side plait over my shoulder. I apply a small amount of lip gloss and some eyeliner, then look at myself in the mirror.
I draw my eyes to the picture of my mom and dad on my desk. I look away, letting out a long, drawn-out breath.
* * *
The Rothwells live in a mansion on the outskirts of town. They’re one of the founding families of this somewhat elitist town. Even though everyone here is wealthy, these people take that to a whole other level. It looks like the entire college turned up tonight because there are people from wall to wall. Music blares, and Marcy holds my hand, tugging me along with her and Dylan. I get the occasional stare-down and smirk from guys buzzed on beer and who knows what else.
“This is incredible, isn’t it?” Marcy shouts over the music.
That’s one way of putting it. I nod, not wanting to be a Debbie Downer.
We make our way out of the sliding doors, and more people crowd the backyard. The smell of weed is thick in the air, and girls stripped down to their bikinis parade around the pool.
Dylan comes over with a basket. “Phones and keys in here,” he shouts, and Marcy immediately reaches into her bag to fish out her keys.
“What? I’m not handing over my phone or keys.”
“Come on. It’s just so nobody drinks and drives,” Marcy tells me. Unfortunately, I am in a practical stranger's house, and there is no fucking way I’m handing over my only means of communication to the outside world.
“I don’t drink, so nobody needs to be concerned about that.”
Dylan shrugs, and Marcy bats her lids. He caves and disappears to put that basket wherever those baskets go. “It’s all good fun, Ash. Dyl will make sure we’re safe.”
I smile. Dylan reappears and wraps his arms around Marcy’s waist, placing a kiss on her neck. Their PDA isn’t uncomfortable. It’s obvious he’s head over heels for her.
“I’m gonna get out of you two’s hair for a bit. Mingle,” I say in air quotes.
“You don’t need to do that. We’re heading to the pool house. Georgia will be there. You know, the lunch table crew.”
I wish I would say no to my cousin; instead, I follow them to the pool house, and the second I step inside, I regret it. A very shirtless and obviously drunk, Ryder is getting his own little pole dance from Cassandra. I feel my jaw clench. Does she have no backbone? The guy was an asshole to her just a few days ago.
My eyes, though, are involuntarily scanning the tattoos that cover his chest and arms. The guy may be good-looking, but he’s an ass. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Dyl, my man!” Ryder shouts when he spots us. “Marcella, looking sexy as ever.” He ignores me, and I roll my eyes at his childish behavior. “Grab a drink,” his eyes on Cassandra again as he waves toward a bar that covers one whole wall. How much alcohol does one family need? How many parties do they have to have a bar the size of a restaurant?
Besides that, this is like no party I have ever been to. People are scattered around, drinking, smoking God knows what, and openly fucking. My cheeks flame.
“You know my cousin, Ash,” Marcy introduces.
“Oh yeah.” Stormy eyes meet mine, then rake over me, making me want to cover up every inch of my body. This dress suddenly hugs me too firmly, and the skin between my boots and the hem feels expansive.
“Ryder,” I say dismissively, my face still hot. Cassandra looks over her shoulder at me, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of embarrassment on her face. After all, I witnessed her public humiliation by the asshole who has his hands up her skirt and will probably fuck her by the end of the night, if not sooner.
“Enjoy the party.” The way he says it makes me want to bail on Marcy. I’m about to say just that to my cousin when Dylan appears with drinks. I pop open the can of soda he offers me and bring it to my lips, acutely aware that Ryder’s eyes are still on me.
“Take a picture. It’ll last a lot longer,” I tell him.
That earns me a deep throaty laugh from him and a death glare from Cassandra. I glance around the pool house, about three times the size of Felicity’s house. Couples dance around the room, and some are playing pool. There are two massive pool tables in one corner, an arcade, and two bowling lanes. I shake my head. This is probably why the guy thinks he can be so pompous.
Marcy settles in Dylan’s lap, and before long, both couples are in full-on make-out mode. So awkward. I take that as my cue to slip away. After pushing through a sea of horny and drunk college students, I locate an unoccupied hammock, plug in my EarPods, and pull up my Kindle app. I scroll through my books, settling on Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time. Now there is a man who knows how to treat a girl. What happened to old-fashioned chivalry and ardently admiring and loving women? Jane Austen truly lived in a different time.
Chilly fingers pull out an Ear Pod, and I gasp. “No phones allowed,” his voice sends unwelcome chills down my spine, and I sit up so quickly I lose my balance, and I’m tumbling out of the hammock and against his chest. I’d been so lost in my thoughts; I didn’t even notice Ryder approaching.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You scared me.” I steady myself by gripping his very firm biceps. I feel a flush creep up my cheek and instantly drop my hands and back away from him.
“It’s a rule. Can’t have you snitching on anyone. Now hand it over.”
My eyebrows pull together, and I let out a laugh. “You can’t be serious. I’m not gonna record this. I’m not that bored with my life, nor are you people that important...”