bartender, and then stand in the middle of a room full of people—teenagers. Some, I suspect aren’t teenagers, chatting amongst themselves.
Tris is looking around, transfixed by her surroundings.
“Whatcha thinking?” I ask as she sips her club soda.
She shakes her head. “That this is the lamest party at the prettiest house I’ve ever been to.”
“Prettiest house?” Max puffs. “It’s like a museum.”
“A museum filled with undersexed teens,” Amias adds.
“Don’t you mean oversexed?” Patrick asks with a brief laugh.
Amias shakes his head then tosses back his drink, also club soda, but you’d never guess it. “Not yet, man, not yet.” He nods to a group of girls dressed like runway models, minus the tits. “What time are we blowing this place?”
“Check back here in thirty,” Patrick tells him.
“Perfect,” Max says. Then he and Amias walk away.
When Patrick looks down at his phone again, Brisa and I look at each other and share a knowing glance.
“Someone sending nudes?” she asks him.
“Always someone sending nudes.” He winks.
“But are they from the one keeping your eyes glued to that screen when at least twenty girls in this room would like to drag you into the nearest closet?” I joke.
He looks around then gives me a dirty look.
“What?” I laugh.
“Don’t undershoot me. There’s way more than twenty girls in this room.”
“You’re deflecting,” Tris tells him.
He throws his arm around Tris. “I’m enjoying the company of the coolest females in the room.”
“While deflecting.” She grins.
“Nah, Tris, you’re right; this is kind of lame. I’d rather be somewhere playing music or tossing cards with you all.”
“You want cards?” Miles asks, walking up to us with Kai at his side. “There’s a fifty dollar buy-in.”
“Why is it always about the money to the people who have the most of it?” Tris asks, quite seriously in fact.
Kai scowls at her.
“Fix your face before I do,” Patrick sneers at him.
“Thanks, Tricks, but I could do some damage to it myself if necessary.” Tris shrugs. “Real nails don’t pop off like the fake shit does, pal, and they’re free.”
“Good luck finding someone who wants to breed with that one.” Miles laughs haughtily … until Patrick grabs his collar.
“Oh, hell no.” Tris forces a laugh and pushes between them, not seeing Patrick get jacked back by two of the guys hired to keep the peace.
From out of nowhere, Tobias steps in. “He’s fine.”
“You serious, Easton?” one of them sneers.
Tobias doesn’t say a word, just glares at him.
“You make sure you let Gabrielle know this was your call,” the other says.
“This is Patrick Steel, Justice’s cousin,” Gabrielle says from behind me. “You want to work tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Whatever you say,” he huffs then walks away.
“Listen, you right swaying, small-dicked pussy boy,” Tris spits at Miles.
“Right your girl,” Tobias whispers from behind me.
I look over my shoulder at him then point at Miles’s crotch. “I’m pretty sure she’s right.”
A smile tugs on his lips, and in the blink of his eye, it’s gone. “Then maybe, instead of perfecting trash talk, you should figure out where to hit a man where it actually hurts. Newsflash: it’s not dick jokes.”
“Now, see? You said man.” I look around then back to him. “Not seeing any that fit that bill here, besides the one who just stuck up for a girl who was wronged.”
Again, he fights a smile. “So, small dick jokes, it is.”
I can’t help but look down at him, and then I can’t help but take the slow, scenic route back up to his gorgeous eyes. “If the boot fits …”
“Your name being Truth, I expected you’d speak it.” He glowers at me.
I turn fully, facing him, and look up. “I’m not sure I remember. How about a reminder?”
His eyes widen, nose flares, jaw locks, fists ball, and he steps past me and between Miles and Tris, who is still ripping Miles a new asshole as half the room watches, whispering and laughing, and for the first time, I’m pretty damn sure it’s not at any of us.
“Let’s go,” Tobias hisses at them.
And … they do.
“Well, that was fun.” Brisa laughs as we walk down the brick-paved driveway.
“If, by fun, you mean a waste of three hours of our lives, then yeah, it was a fucking blast.” Patrick chuckles.
“God, he’s so gross. Breed me?” Tris snaps, obviously still stewing over the Miles shit. Then she turns, walking backward, and points to all the boys. “You m’fers ever talk to a girl like that, I will cut you.”
“And what if Marcello ever—”
“He wouldn’t.” And even under the moonlight,