This summer’s going to hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
“It’s about to be fucking lit out here tonight, ladies and fucking gentlemen!” A voice booms from somewhere, snapping me out of my trance as I hear the loudspeaker and the cheers that rise from the crowd.
“Are you ready for the night of your fucking lives?!!”
Drawn by morbid curiosity, I stare to my left at the tinted car as the St. Jude crew starts honking in synchronized rhythm and the neon green Lambo starts revving, it’s throaty engine alive, beastly, and ready. But I can’t look away from the Camaro.
I frown, staring at the car, wondering where it came from. Then I remember the dirt road that I parked close to. He must have come from there, but why is he parked beside me? Why can I feel his palpable anger from here?
In that moment, the passenger window from the Camaro starts rolling down so slowly, I hold my breath, waiting to see who’s in that car, yet I know. I fucking know who’s in there.
Dread lodges itself as a ball in my throat. I try to swallow around it, but I can’t. I’ve had a bad feeling about this night since before I saw my dad. It’s even more intense now.
When the window rolls down fully, I can only make out a male silhouette, a large frame from the driver’s seat but this time, I know he’s looking at me. Tilting to the left, like I’m craning my neck just to see him, our gazes connect and I reel back.
Dark, cold hard eyes stare at me with an intensity that punches my gut.
It’s him.
I can’t look away. I can’t make out his face, as his face is cast in shadow, but the look in his eyes is penetrating, scorching, dark…and hateful.
A kind of burning hate that I’ve only ever felt on me twice in my life, three years ago when I ran my mouth and messed up and two years ago when I kissed and almost fucked…his brother.
Flashes of that night come back in my head, all with intense feelings of embarrassment that I suffered that night, walking through a stranger’s house in Malibu, topless, with faux confidence, on the verge of tears.
I’ve never felt so small and demeaned in my life, until that night. Until him.
He made me feel worthless. He made me feel dirty and he made sure everyone there would think that I’m nothing but a party animal even years later. No one thinks I’m book smart, they all think I’m a slut at times.
That night, I remember making a vow to hate him for as long as I live, because as far as I’m concerned, what I did three years ago at the hospital didn’t warrant the way he tried to humiliate me in front of everyone at that party.
With that in mind, I stare right back at him, with. My head held high like the queen I am.
Hate me or fucking kill me, I’m not going to grow small in size because of you, asshole.
I ignore the way my nipples harden, our gazes locked on each other. I ignore the way chills race up and down my spine, and for a moment, just a moment, I feel like there’s more happening here.
We’re parked way back, a bit of a distance away from everyone else. Away from the headlights of several cars, or the sparks and flames of the bonfire. It’s almost like we’re in our own world, where I feel like I’m the prey and he’s the patient, angry, hungry, beast-like hunter who’s been waiting to hunt me down for so long and now he doesn’t have anything to hold him back from devouring me.
I wait for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. He just…stares.
“Omg!”
Someone screams, startling me out of my trance. Breaking gaze with Julian, I look up and notice that everyone’s attention is now focused on the neon Lambo, with excited, awed expressions on their faces. If I look closer, I swear I can detect lust in most of the girl’s eyes and that makes me roll my eyes.
Who the hell is in that car?
I get my answer in a few, well calculated steps after that.
First, I notice a lean, well-built guy a wolfish smile on his face, insanely good looking, messy dark blond hair, as if a girl has just been running her fingers through it. He steps out of the neon green