Pretty Little Savage (Sick Boys #1) - Lucy Smoke Page 0,99
then, as if realizing that's the best he's going to get out of me, he nods once and disappears.
Huffing out a breath, I turn and press back against the counter of the unfamiliar kitchen. Girls in high heels and short glittery dresses that seem like overkill for a house party—this isn't some club, after all—stumble through and out the back doors. The noises that come from the open doors draw me forward. Curiosity sits in my chest as I glance out, scanning the crowd, but strangely enough, I don't recognize anyone at this party. I don't pay attention to most of my classmates, but I should remember some of these people, shouldn't I?
"Avalon?" I jerk around at the sound of my name being called. Corina stands in the doorway to the kitchen, a red Solo cup in hand as she blinks at me. "What are you doing here?"
I tilt my head at her and shrug. "Just hanging out," I say. It's not technically a lie, but I don't necessarily want to tell her that I came with Dean.
Her eyes dart from side to side and she sets her cup on the counter before approaching. Corina gets close, sidling up to me with one hand on my arm. She leans in even further as her eyes widen as if she’s still stunned by my mere presence here. I can feel my own eyebrows inching up towards my hairline. "Are you allowed to be here?" she whispers the question, making me jerk back with a scowl.
"I can go wherever I damn well please," I snap.
"No, I know," she says quickly. "I mean, do the—you know—do they know that you're here?"
Extracting my arm from her grip, I take several steps back. "Why does that matter?" I ask.
She groans. "Oh my god, they're here, aren't they?" Corina bites down on her lower lip, and surprisingly when she releases it, her teeth come away clean of her glossy lipstick. It must be some expensive shit.
"Why are you so concerned?" I ask.
Instead of answering, however, she just shakes her head and says, "You really shouldn't be here. Just..." Corina glances over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be behind her. I frown. "Just stay here for a moment," she continues. "I'll be right back."
She doesn't give me a second to ask what the hell is wrong with her before she practically sprints out of the room. After a moment of pure shock, I take the two steps it takes to get to the counter and lift her cup to sniff the contents. How drunk must she be? But all I smell is beer. And after watching her down shots like a professional that night at Urban, I know it takes a lot more than a few cups of beer to make her drunk.
Behind me, the sliding glass door opens. I set the cup down and glance back as a guy comes in, shaking his wet hair out as he tilts his head to the side and smacks the side that faces upward as if he's trying to get water out. When he notices my presence, he pauses and straightens.
"Well, hello there, beautiful," he says, an easy smile coming to his face.
I take one look at him and shake my head. "No thanks," I say. "Not interested."
His body freezes, mid-step, and I can tell that I've shocked him. I cross my arms and lean against the counter, wishing either Dean or Corina would hurry up and get their asses back. I'm getting bored just sitting around waiting, and nothing good ever happens when I get bored.
Instead of scoffing and calling me a bitch before walking out as I expect, the guy watches me as he strides to the refrigerator and retrieves a bottled water. He drains the water in one go, his throat muscles moving as he swallows, and then presses a button on the wall, causing one of the lower cabinets—or what had looked like the door to a cabinet—to come sliding out, revealing two neat little trash cans, side by side. He tosses the bottle into the one clearly marked for recycling and then looks back to me.
Since there's nothing else for me to look at or do, I stare right back at him. His jaw is defined, a shadow of stubble ghosting across the lower half of his face. His hair is slicked back, making it look darker than it probably is, but his eyes are a clear, almost ocean-blue.