me. “Fine. You can stay. But only because it’s Mena’s special day. Just don’t steal anything.”
He smirked. “Lighten up, Mead. It’s a party—and you don’t even have to find a way home. Have a drink or five. It might make your personality bearable.”
“I was just about . . .” I looked for my half-made drink, but he was already walking away. “Asshole.”
I downed the vodka in my cup straight, then spotted the bottle of OJ in the sink. Naturally. I poured myself another stronger one, then added the juice.
I would never admit it—not even to save the human race from extinction—but Hendrix was right. I wanted to lighten up and have a drink. I also needed one now that he was here.
I sipped my vodka and OJ as I mingled, trying to ignore the fact that he was in my house. Will had passed out in a chair by the fire, Drew and the others keeping an eye on him.
“Don’t let him puke in my house.” I pointed to him and raised my brows at Drew.
“On it.” He took another puff of what was clearly not a regular cigarette and passed it to Amaya. Harlow was in a fit of giggles next to her, she and Nicola losing their shit over something on her phone. Laughter bubbled up in my chest too. I had no idea what was so funny, but their mirth was infectious.
I was about to find a spot and join them, but then I noticed Hendrix just a few feet over, talking with Mena and Turner. They looked as if they were really getting along. And the mirth in my chest died. He was in my house, with my friends, in my life. And I wanted him gone . . . but I also kept trying to remember if my room was messy or not and what he’d think of it if he made his way up there. And that was just . . . ugh! Insane!
Shoving some skanky chick in platform heels out of the way, I headed back inside and downed the rest of my drink, dropped the empty cup into the mess on the counter, and located the vodka.
With the smooth glass of the bottle clutched firmly in my hand, I made my way back outside. Keeping my gaze ahead, I avoided everyone and took the stone steps down to the path leading to the pool.
As soon as I was away from everyone’s judgmental gazes, I could finally take a deep breath. The cool night air filled my lungs as I walked the manicured path, leaving the raucous sounds of the party farther behind me with every step.
It was chilly but still, and the water in the pool looked black—smooth glass reflecting the stars above. I sat at the edge and crossed my legs. The cap came off the bottle, and I took a swig, the alcohol burning my throat on the way down as much as the cool air had soothed it. The thumping bass and cacophony of laughing, talking voices in the background grew fainter with every sip.
I’d been looking forward to hanging out with my friends, having some fun now that the party was pretty much taking care of itself. But then he showed up and ruined everything. I couldn’t think about anything else with him so close.
The way he’d worked my body at the back of Davey’s just one week ago . . . if I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to go there, I could still feel his fingers on my rain-slick skin, still feel the ecstatic oblivion he’d provided without wanting anything in return.
He’d given me one of the best orgasms of my life, but it was what happened after that I couldn’t seem to work out. Hendrix had taken care of me. He’d met my physical needs, then taken me into his arms and made me feel . . . safe? I couldn’t quite put my finger on the warm, fuzzy emotion it had brought up.
Then, naturally, we’d argued. He’d gone right back to the asshole he’d been from the start, and I knew there’d be no repeat performance, even if I wanted one.
So, when I wasn’t fighting memories of how good he’d made me feel, I was obsessing over how he could ruin me with one carefully worded sentence delivered to anyone in my orbit.
How had I allowed myself to get into a situation where a man like Hendrix fucking Hawthorn had that much