Daring Devlin (Lost Boys #1) - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,7
asked, my tone flat.
“He was drunk, Reen. He kissed her, sure, but she was the who dragged him into the closet.”
I ruminated on this new bit of intel. “How do you know?”
“Tamara and Casey told me. They saw the whole thing.” Her defending her “friends” made me question her sanity. Is that what sorority girls did? Sat idly by while Tasha’s boyfriend made out with another girl? “I’m lucky to have them. They’d never make out with Tony.”
“What great friends.”
She nodded, ignoring my sarcasm.
Tony lifted his chin at her and she gave him a huge smile. Then he saw me, seemed to debate, and wisely opted to keep his distance.
“Maybe I was too harsh,” she said, contemplatively sipping her drink.
“You don’t have to settle for him. You could find someone else. Someone better.” I looked for the dimpled brown-haired guy again but he must have relocated. “Someone who doesn’t make out with college freshmen while you’re studying for your physiology test.” I gave her the kindest smile I could muster.
“You don’t know what college is like,” she shot back.
I tried not to visibly wince. Because ouch.
“Come on, let’s dance.” She towed me to the living room and I obeyed.
An hour later, I’d been dragged into a conversation with a guy who called himself Turner and a girl with the blondest hair I’d ever seen. It was practically white. I forgot her name. Brittany? Bridget? I wasn’t sure. They seemed nice enough; we just didn’t have anything in common. Tasha wasn’t wrong about me not knowing what college was like. Besides taking a few community college courses, I couldn’t relate to living in a dorm and attending wild parties every weekend.
“…until this one stripped off his toga.” Brittany-Bridget snorted and shoved Turner, who brayed like a donkey. His laugh revealed luminescent teeth, which was kind of terrifying.
“Sounds… uh, fun.” I scanned my surroundings for an exit.
I’d lost sight of Tasha some time ago. And since she was the only person I knew here, I was stuck with these two.
“Oh, look at that. Empty cup.” I drained my drink in one huge gulp. “Excuse me.” Brittany-Bridget wasn’t listening. She leaned into Turner, who pulled her close and cupped her ass with one giant palm.
I took advantage of their preoccupation to sidle by them and out of the kitchen. Seriously, what did girls see in these morons? Alas, much as I wanted to mock them, I couldn’t. I’d been about six months away from becoming one of them. Joshua had been headed to Ridgeway University on an athletic scholarship, and I’d been filling out applications. I planned on following him here. I’d have followed him anywhere. Instead, he’d followed me… to his demise.
I dropped my empty cup into a trashcan, stomach tossing at the unwelcome memory. The night of the accident he’d come to pick me up at a party because I’d gone and he didn’t want to. When he arrived, I’d been drunk and bored and crying like an idiot.
Since that night, I’d been plagued with thoughts like: if I’d never called, if he’d never picked up, if he hadn’t offered to drive me home at that exact moment… If I hadn’t been yelling and distracting him from the passenger seat—
Someone bumped into me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I shot a nasty look over my shoulder, then I realized it was Tasha.
“Oh, hey!” My eyes traveled down her arm to her hand—linked with Tony’s. They were heading for the staircase—for a bedroom, I assumed.
“Rena. Hi.” Her voice was tight, like she feared I might bend her over my knee and spank her for misbehaving.
It was no secret how I felt about her beau. He gave me the stink eye. The feeling was mutual.
“We were just”—she pointed weakly—“heading upstairs to talk. Um, privately.”
Tony’s hands slipped around her waist. He tugged her against him with propriety. Tasha blushed and a sweet smile crossed her face. And for whatever reason—be it the melancholy over thinking of what could have been if Joshua had never died or the sheer happiness in my friend’s eyes—I couldn’t blame her.
I’d been without someone to touch, to hug, to kiss for four long years. Being alone was… well, lonely. If I’d had the opportunity to make out with my questionably moral boss in the walk-in cooler, I’d have totally done it. Grabbed the moment—and his ass—with both hands. Because being alone sucked. And being good all the time sucked more.