not as though she isn’t going to enjoy herself while she’s at it. He’ll accidentally give her the wrong number and come tomorrow morning, neither of them are even going to remember this happened. She should think of it as fun, I know I am.”
“Geez, I can’t wait to see how you deal with shit when someone’s crossed you.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to be that poor bitch.”
“I bet.”
Half an hour later, we’re sitting on the kitchen counter, each with a shot glass in our hands. The ceiling is closed in and the walls are slid back into place after the wind decided to ruin the pool party fun. Bodies are crammed back inside, grinding and dancing upon one another as the music flows freely.
I can hardly hold myself up and I'm ashamed to say that we haven't seen Jess or Milo since they were making out in the pool. The bottle of vodka is down to the last few drops and our heads are spinning, but we’re having a good time and we’re not going to stop until one of us passes out on the counter or is hurling in the expensive vase. Though, I’m kinda hoping we don’t because I’ll be the one who has to clean it in the morning.
Colton sits across the room and I haven’t missed the way that his eyes linger on me, so intense and full of need that it makes me itch to get him between my legs. If I was smart, we could have forgotten about the party and it would have been just me and him all night long, free to do whatever the hell we wanted, but no. Apparently, when you get fucked up and high on weed after a shitty few weeks, all you want to do is relax and party until you can’t remember your own damn name.
“Damn, that boy hasn’t stopped staring,” Hendrix says, watching my line of sight and clearly realizing that there’s something deeper going on here than just two people living on the same property. Hell, she was there on the yacht and would have seen the tension between us that has only gotten worse as time goes by.
“He’s not,” I say, looking back at her. “Are you ready for your shot?”
“No way,” she screeches. “It’s your turn.”
“Bullshit,” I laugh. “I just stood in the middle of the room and climbed on the coffee table to do my own rendition of the robot dance. It’s so your turn.”
Hendrix’s face scrunches. “Shit. Is it bad that I’ve already forgotten about that?”
I choke back a laugh, wondering why the hell I’m finding every little thing so damn funny.
“Alright,” Hendrix says, looking down at the shot of vodka in her hands. “I can’t drink another one of these or else I’m going to end up throwing up all over Colton’s place and I’ll never live it down. What do I have to do?”
A grin pulls at my lips and I slam my hand down on the counter that I’m sitting on. “You need to climb up here, flash those perfect titties of yours while swinging your shirt above your head like a helicopter and screaming ‘Spring Break, baby!’”
Her eyes bug out of her head, absolutely mortified by the challenge that’s been thrown down, but she doesn’t strike me as the type to bitch out. “You’re fucking kidding me?”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. You don’t have to do it, just take another shot instead.”
Hendrix groans before handing me her shot and climbing up onto the counter. I throw her shot back, more than capable of handling another few shots before I pass out. Hendrix gets to her feet and I can’t help but look up at her as she starts pulling her shirt above her head.
She gets the attention of the many guys in the room and by the time her shirt is swinging around above her head with her tits bouncing softly as she moves, every last eye in the room is staring.
“SPRING BREAK, BABY!” she squeals.
Hands are thrown up in the air and excited cheers flow through the room, begging for more. People laugh, assuming she’s so drunk that she doesn’t realize that we’re not even close to Spring break, while the other half are probably just assuming that she’s on something, and way too wasted and fucked up to know what the hell is going on.
Hendrix jumps down with a renewed confidence that has her chin held high. “You didn’t think I was