“I look like a virgin,” I mutter to myself as I walk up the long driveway toward the courtyard before the front door.
“Are you?” a dark voice says from the corner behind me. A scream bursts from my chest as I jump what feels like three feet into the air.
Spinning around with my hand clamped to my chest, I stare in shock at an amused-looking Beau. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“And standing in the corner of the courtyard, answering questions I mumble to myself, isn’t supposed to be scary?”
He laughs again. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Well, you should try,” I respond, sounding more disgruntled than I am. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
He shrugs. “Just not ready to go in.”
I turn to face the door, hearing the music and voices of the party on the other side. And sympathy drowns out my annoyance. This can’t be an easy situation for him. Surely, everyone will be looking his way tonight, watching for his reaction, waiting to see him blow up or act out.
I’m a little surprised he’s even here, to be honest. I don’t know if I could do it if I were him. But Emerson either coerced him into coming or he’s just trying to be supportive for his dad’s sake. Either way, I feel bad leaving him out here alone.
“To be honest, I hate parties,” I say, pausing in the courtyard, only a few feet from him. “I obviously never know how to dress.” I gesture down at my outfit.
His crooked smirk sends a flood of butterflies to my belly. How dare he be so charming when he’s clearly supposed to be a self-centered prick?
“You do look like a virgin,” he replies, and the butterflies dissipate just like that.
“Wow, thanks.”
“Well, you are walking into a party full of sex club owners.”
“I’m one of those owners, remember?” I reply, furrowing my brow at him.
“Yeah, and I’m only messing with you.”
With a snarky response readying itself on my tongue, I pause as I blankly stare at him. Of course he was only joking, so why did I have to go and get so defensive, as if he was actually insulting me? Suddenly, I feel like a bitch.
“Why don’t you just walk in with me? That way you don’t have to go in alone and if you want, you can stick by my side.”
He looks momentarily surprised by my offer. There’s a gentle crease between his brows as the warm summer wind blows through the courtyard, ruffling the brown locks of hair hanging over his forehead. It’s no secret that Beau is gorgeous in those fitted jeans and a tight polo shirt that shows off the impeccable shape of his muscled shoulders, but he knows how gorgeous he is and that’s what kills his appeal. If only he finished off the look with a touch of humility, he’d be a ten.
“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” he mumbles as he pushes away from the wall. “I’m not staying long anyway.”
Me either, I think, but I don’t say it out loud. I’m sort of hoping I can just slink out undetected.
With Emerson’s son on my right, I open the door to the party and walk inside.
Rule #9: Get into trouble as often as you can—trouble is half the fun.
Beau
Is it nine thirty yet? The clock is taunting me, moving slower than it should as I stand on the sidelines of the party with the remnants of a warm, half-empty beer in my hand. Every once in a while, I catch people looking at me, people I’ve never met, who probably heard about me through gossip or rumors. There’s a good chance half the people here just came to get a front-row seat to the biggest live-action soap opera story in Briar Point.