“Well, let’s just say that I thought drummers were sexy, too. It’s why I begged my father to get Monkey Balls to play for my seventeenth birthday party. I just wanted to meet him. It’s not like I really thought anything would happen between me and a grown man.” Her eyes narrowed. “But apparently, he doesn’t have a problem with going after young girls.”
Phoebe gasped. “Did you hook up with him?”
“No.” Simone’s mouth twisted at the thought. Her cheeks flushed with anger. “He tried to kiss my sister. My little sister.”
The way she said it made me understand jealousy didn’t play a part in her disgust. She was simply a big sister, protective of someone she loved. My chin lowered as I softened toward her. I’d never had a sister, but I’d always wanted one. I’d imagined we’d look out for each other, freeing my mom up to look out for herself.
“You stopped him?” I asked, without intending to.
She barked out a laugh, flashing perfect white teeth. “Are you kidding? My sister’s a terror. She kicked him in his monkey balls and went right back to watching Gossip Girl. But I did grab him by the hair and drag him to the door when I heard. I’m not kidding when I say I had to wash my hands five times afterward. The man is dirty.”
I ignored the faint chant in my head. Livvie smells like rotten meat. That’s because she lives in the street! That was a million years ago. And it was ridiculous even then. I might’ve stayed in a car that just happened to be parked on a street, but I certainly didn’t live there. If I’d vacationed in Paris for twenty-three days, I guarantee nobody would’ve allowed me to claim I’d lived in France.
“Well, that’s it, then,” Phoebe said, exhaling with disappointment. “Monkey Balls is dead to me.”
I nodded my agreement, distracted by the two guys to my left. The two boys had been messing around next to us long enough that I’d picked up their names. The one called “Dice” was average height and unremarkably dressed, with straight dark hair to his shoulders and scruff that covered half his face. The other—Mac—was the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen. He was almost pretty, his features delicate and his eyelashes visible from ten feet away. It was only his height and broad shoulders that balanced it out, making him proper Ken doll material.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, despite the fact that I knew better than to be interested in anyone that good-looking. I’d already learned overly attractive men, like rich girls, were dangerous. It wasn’t his looks that had me captivated, though. It was how much fun he was having. They’d stopped pelting jelly beans at each other, and now Dice was tossing them up in the air while Mac attempted to catch them in his mouth. It was the most idiotic thing I’d ever seen. That was a game for popcorn, not a candy-coated bullet guaranteed to break teeth.
I wanted to play.
I wouldn’t, of course. But I wanted to.
Mac caught a red one in his mouth and spit it toward Dice, who batted it away. I laughed at the face Dice made when he wiped his red-streaked palm on his jeans. To my shock, he glanced over, winking at me before lobbing two yellows into the air. Mac trotted dutifully underneath them, opening his mouth toward the sky. But as they plummeted toward his face, he seemed to have doubts, swinging one oafish hand up and catching them in the air before they hit his face.
“Yum,” Simone murmured.
I glanced over to find that her gaze had followed mine to the boys.
“I want a jelly bean,” she called out, her voice taking on a breathy quality. She tilted her chin up, opening her mouth suggestively.
I cringed, looking to Dice without meaning to. His mouth curved the slightest bit, like he was vaguely amused but wasn’t taking the bait. Mac, on the other hand, had no such reservations. He flung one of the yellows across the ten-foot gap between us. My eyes widened as the jelly bean descended, visions of future plurals hissing through the inevitable chip in one of Simone’s perfect white teeth. Should I do something?
A sharp snap of two fingers ricocheted through the air, and Simone’s gaze dropped instinctively toward the sound. The jelly bean pinged against her forehead so hard it traveled out and forward at least three feet before falling to the ground. Her hand went to the spot of impact, already turning a purplish red, her eyes widening in confusion. They turned glassy with unshed tears, likely from embarrassment as much as pain.
“Sorry,” Dice said, taking long strides across the grass and stopping in front of her. Up close, he smelled like an intoxicating mix of something smoky and spiced.