I’m talking to a nice guy from our class when tingles of awareness skate across the back of my neck, and I turn rigidly still. A loud cheer goes up, and I don’t need to turn around to know Toxic Gods has entered the room.
I adore Ash, and we have meshed well as roomies this past week. I love having her here, and I don’t regret my decision. The only downside is her brother. All four band members showed up the Sunday Ash moved in, and I purposely stayed out of Dillon’s way, grateful they didn’t stay long as they were all hungover as fuck.
I knew they were dropping by tonight after they finished their set at Whelans, so I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling nervous. Butterflies flutter in my chest, and my pulse picks up.
“Yay! You made it!” Ash squeals, racing past me to welcome her brothers.
Slowly, I turn around, finding Dillon’s dark gaze already locked on mine. He’s wearing his signature black T-shirt, ripped jeans, and biker boots. His almost white-blond hair is a mess of waves falling into his eyes, and I have a sudden urge to run my fingers through it. My heart skips a beat, and blood rushes to my nether regions. Hot damn. Why does he have to look so sexy? And why do I have such a strong reaction to him every time? His lips curve up at one corner, and he cocks his head to the side in a gesture that looks eerily familiar.
Hands wrap around him from behind as a girl with long straight jet-black hair presses herself up against his back. Acid crawls up my throat as I break our intense eye stare, displeased to see the band invited their entourage of groupies to come with. I’m pretty certain Ash would not have invited them. In fact, seeing how much she detests Aoife, I imagine she probably told her brothers they were specifically not to come. I don’t see Aoife, but she’s probably here somewhere. I don’t know these girls, and I don’t want to pass judgment, but they remind me too much of her. Clingy. Manipulative. Bitchy. Ready to turn on any woman who presents a threat.
Shaking off my wayward emotions, I thrust my shoulders back and stride toward them, plastering the biggest smile on my face, determined to be the perfect hostess. Dillon’s gaze ensnares me as I approach, and his eyes are superglued to my body despite the girl currently shoving her wandering hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Welcome,” I say, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Dillon. “What can I get you guys to drink? We have beer, cider, wine coolers, vodka, gin, and a ton of different sodas.”
“Are you on the menu?” Jamie asks, undressing me with his eyes. His comment earns a scowl from the brunette tucked under his arm.
“Do I look like something you can drink?” I retort.
His gaze darts to my crotch. “I can think of some juice I’d love to lap up.” His tongue darts out, and he rolls it back and forth in a crude manner.
“You’re disgusting.”
“Trust me, from personal experience, there’s nothing disgusting about it,” the brunette at his side says with a smug grin.
“Have you no self-respect?” Ash asks her before making a face at Jamie. “Your taste in women gets worse with every passing day,” she adds before knocking back her beer. I make a mental note to ask her tomorrow about him.
“Fuck,” Dillon hisses, and my eyes are like laser beams as I flick my gaze to him. “Not yet.” Grabbing the girl’s wrists, he yanks them out of his pockets. The bulge pressing against the crotch of his jeans is obvious in the extreme, and my stomach sours. I think I’ll have to have a quiet word with my new roomie. I can’t be around this scene. Not without wanting to hurl. I’m not sure what expression is on my face, but it’s enough to have Dillon bark out a harsh laugh. “I think our Hollywood princess is a prude,” he says, immediately raising my hackles.
I level him with sharp look. “Just because I don’t go around openly groping men doesn’t mean I’m a prude.”
“Whatever you say, princess.” He smirks as he purposely fondles the girl’s ass, trying to get a rise out of me.
Planting her hands on her hips, she sends me a withering look. “Where’d you find this stuck-up bitch?”
“She goes to Trinners,” Dillon says, as if that explains it.
“Nuff said.” Stretching up, she makes a show of kissing him. As if I care.
“What’s up, Grace,” Ronan says, moving away from Conor and approaching me.
“Hey, Ronan.” I give him a quick hug, glad he’s here. Ronan is a nice guy, and I can’t fathom how he and Dillon are brothers. They look nothing alike, and their personalities are like night and day. Whipping his hand out from behind his back, he presents me with a red rose. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He softly kisses my cheek.