“We’re over here.” She pulls me over to Bodie and Basil. They are talking to three beautiful blonde girls. “I’m getting us some drinks.”
“Thanks.”
“Wow.” Basil laughs. “Look at you.”
Kill me now. This is so awkward.
“Look at you.” I laugh. They are both in their matching little white outfits.
“I am going to have some lipstick smeared all over this collar tonight.” Basil widens his eyes. “That’s right.”
I giggle. “I bet you will.”
“Here he is,” Bodie says. We all turn to see Christo walking down the steps. His white shirt is open, revealing his chiseled abs. The shorts are tighter and shorter, revealing thick quad muscles, and even though he’s wearing the same outfit as the boys, somehow, he looks completely different.
Good different.
I angrily snap my eyes away. Damn it, I hate that he’s gorgeous, and more than that, I hate that he knows it.
The boys wave, and he smiles and comes over. “Hey.” He laughs as he holds a bottle of Corona in his hand. “Look at us being all angelic-like.” He smiles to the girls. “Girls.” He raises an eyebrow at them. He glances over at me. “Grumpy.” He nods in a greeting.
Grumpy.
I fake a smile. You have no idea.
He introduces himself to the girls. “I’m Christo. You must be models, right?”
The girls giggle, and I roll my eyes.
Please.
“I have done some modeling,” one of the girls says.
OnlyFans, I bet.
“I knew it.” He smiles. “Where are you from?”
“Germany,” they reply. They have beautiful husky accents.
Bernadette arrives back with a drink for me and passes it over. “Thanks.”
She looks Christo up and down like he’s a piece of meat, which is fitting because he thinks he is. “Christo.” She smiles. “Do I get a kiss hello?”
He crinkles up his nose. “Not now, Bernadette.” He playfully gestures to the girls. “This is my big break with these models here.”
The German girls all laugh on cue, and Bernadette does too. How does he do that? Everything he says comes out smooth.
Ugh . . .
Basil and Bodie smile goofily at each other. I think they like him more than the girls do.
“What do you do?” I hear one of the girls ask him.
“I’m a teacher,” he replies.
A teacher?
“I just love kids, you know,” he continues.
I call bullshit . . .
I look over to see Kimberly waving me out to the dance floor. She’s dancing with a big group of people. I grab Bernadette’s arm. “Come on, we’re dancing.”
Four hours later
I’m feeling very tipsy and having the time of my life.
Who knew that full moon parties were this fun? I’ve danced, I’ve chatted, and we won’t mention how I’ve been watching a certain annoying person more than I would ever admit.
He has a flock—I’m not even joking—a flock of women around him at all times.
Everywhere he goes.
And he’s loving every second of it, the showman and his captive audience.