by K. A. Linde
“Bro!”
I turned back around with my signature smirk already fastened into place. I was ready to go in for the kill.
“You actually going to give her to me, man?” Vin asked, concerned.
“Sure. After I’m done with her.”
I heard Vin cussing me out, but I tuned him out as I was striding toward the blonde. Vin wouldn’t mind sloppy seconds. Plus, no one kept me interested very long anyway.
“Grant McDermott is walking over here,” Cheyenne whispered. “Grant McDermott is walking over here!” She grabbed Shelby’s arm and started bouncing up and down. Her curly red hair flounced all around her. She was tall, confident, and outgoing with a killer body to boot.
Gabi paced a little. Her blonde pixie cut was as unruly as ever. She was generally quiet and had a bit of an up-in-the-clouds personality, but I still loved her. “Oh my God, he’s so gorgeous.”
“I just can’t believe it.” Shelby swished her brown hair over her shoulder. “He looks even better up close.”
“Do I have to be the one to ask?” I messed with the button on my cardigan. “Who is Grant McDermott?”
All three girls turned and stared at me at once. Yeah, I guess I’m that person.
“What planet do you live on?” Cheyenne asked. “I mean, I know Benjamin just broke up with you, but I can’t believe it addled your brain that much.”
“Aw, that’s cute, Cheyenne. You think my brain is addled.” I let my dark blue eyes grow wide as I tried to play the innocent act through my sarcasm.
“Don’t even start with me,” Cheyenne snapped.
“All right. It doesn’t matter,” Shelby said, jumping between Cheyenne and me.
“Didn’t you watch the show, Aribel?” Gabi asked.
“Um…kind of?”
Okay…I hadn’t really been paying attention. I’d had no interest in attending the concert in the first place, so I’d been going over the calculus lecture from yesterday in my head while I sipped on my beer. This just wasn’t me. I preferred quiet places, like libraries, classrooms, and the privacy of my own room. Plus, the beer was disgusting. I’d just been staring at my new pint since that creepy guy had put something in it after I refused to suck his dick—his choice of words, not mine.
“Grant McDermott is the lead singer of ContraBand,” Cheyenne filled me in with an eye roll. “He’s practically the whole reason we show up. I can just see his fingers playing across that guitar and imagine what they would do to my body.”
I held up my hand. “TMI, Cheyenne.”
“And he’s walking over here,” Gabi whispered, unnecessarily pointing him out.
I took a good, long look at Grant McDermott. He swaggered more than walked over to us with his dark-wash jeans hanging low, hugging him perfectly. Tattoos peeked out of his charcoal gray T-shirt, and dog tags hung loose from his neck. He was muscular but lean. His hair was long in the front, but it was shaved short on the sides, and looked purposely messy. His smirk was cocky and his eyes inviting.
His entire appeal from the clothes to his demeanor was contrived. Looking at my friends obsessing over him, I was pretty sure they were too far lost in a Grant McDermott haze to see through the playboy attitude.
Grant walked right through a crowd of women clamoring for his attention and straight toward me. I just stared at him with furrowed brows. He smirked when he saw that he’d caught my attention. I almost looked away, but his attention only infuriated me. I tilted my chin up and held my ground. What the hell did he want?
“Hey, Grant,” Shelby said when he finally stopped in front of us.
He nodded in Shelby’s direction, but his eyes were fixed on me. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Darlin’? Really?”
He took a swig from his pint, unaffected by my laugh. “I still didn’t get your name, babe.”
“Grant, this is my friend Aribel,” Cheyenne said. “I’m Cheyenne, and this is Shelby and Gabi. Did Vin tell you that I know him?”
Grant outright ignored my friends and continued to talk to me as if there hadn’t been an interruption. “So, Aribel, you don’t like darlin’?”
“I might like it if you happened to be from a fifties Western movie,” I said.
Grant cracked a smile. “Not a Western, darlin’. Try Southern gentleman. Rhett Butler.”
“Are you going to try to peddle Gone with the Wind to me?”
Shelby bumped me. “Um…Aribel, now might be the time to not.”
I ignored her. “No, really,” I said, “have you ever read anything longer than a Penthouse magazine?”
Shelby smacked herself on the forehead and turned away.
“There are articles in Penthouse?” Grant asked.
I snorted and turned away. I had standards, and if he thought that calling me darlin’ and talking about Rhett Butler would make me fall all over myself to be another one of his groupies, he was sadly mistaken. I started walking back to the bar. I needed to get rid of this drink and then get out of here. I was over this scene and wanted to get back to my life.
“Hey, where are you going?” Grant asked.
He tailed me as I walked to the bar.
I groaned. “Why are you following me?”
“Mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”
“Okay,” I said, stopping and shaking my head. “Let’s get this straight. I am not your darlin’ or babe or little thing. My name is Aribel, and usually when a girl walks away from you, you should get the hint and leave her alone.”
“I’m not good with hints.”
Grant’s smirk turned into a full-blown smile. The arrogance was still there, but what was underneath made me pause. The smile was genuine, not contrived like his smirk. I’d actually amused him, and he’d reacted in a way that showed me that few people did. His eyes lightened, and the gold ring around his pupil was more prominent. There was an openness, a vulnerability, in his expression as he dropped some of the playboy look that I was sure he didn’t actually want people to see. It kind of took my breath away.
He took the few steps to clear the distance between us, and I retreated, my back pressing into the bar. I placed my beer down and tried to avert my gaze from his face, but it was a struggle with him staring at me so intently.
“So, how about you ditch the hints and just admit that you’re interested in me?” Grant asked matter-of-factly.
I opened my mouth to slap a retort back into his face, but for once in my existence, I had no idea how to respond. Most people weren’t as blunt as I was, and no one came up to bat when I was on the defensive. He was using my own techniques against me, and I was finding it hard to look away from those big brown eyes ringed with gold. I felt like he’d blown my carefully constructed world into tiny pieces.
“Aw, come on, princess. Words failing you?” He dragged his hand gently down my jawline.
I brought two fingers up to his hand and forcefully brushed it aside. “I’m not a princess. My name is Aribel. We’ve covered this. Keep up.”
He leaned forward, and I watched as he put his beer down to the right of my glass. His face was only inches from mine, and I could practically taste the alcohol on his breath. I should have been disgusted, but it kind of smelled good on him.
I had no idea who the person was thinking these traitorous thoughts. I was not attracted to someone like Grant McDermott.
“All right, Aribel it is.” He drawled my name across his tongue, like he was experimenting with the taste of it.
“Are you always this forward with someone you just met?”
“Only women.”
“How flattering,” I muttered sarcastically.
“Isn’t it? I could have picked any girl in the room, but I’m talking to you.”
Grant had said that as if I was supposed to appreciate the fact that he had just openly admitted that he was willing to sleep with any of these other girls, but lucky me, I was the winner for the night.
Um…no, thank
you.
“Wow. I get the princess reference now. I feel like a fucking Disney princess who Gaston chose instead of whoring himself out to the rest of the town,” I said, crossing my arms.
There was that goddamn smile again. He needed to cut that out.
“Belle wasn’t a princess,” Grant corrected me.
“Another thing we have in common.”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
His hands tangled loosely in my blonde hair before I could even get a response out.
His lips were soft and tender, but they had a certain authority to them that I had never experienced. It was like being led through a waltz. We were both dancing, but he had absolute control of the situation. I found myself wanting to kiss him back.
No, I am kissing him back.
And just as I felt my entire body practically quiver with desire, he slowly released me, his lips lingering oh-so invitingly in front of me.
As soon as I opened my dark blue eyes again, my body straightened, and I snapped out of my trance. Oh, he’s good. He’s really, really good. But if he was going to be a total douche bag and then think he could kiss his way out of anything, he had another thing coming.
“So, are we getting out of here then?” Grant asked.
“Yeah,” I said, plastering on a fake smile. I reached for the drinks on the bar and handed him the beer that had been spiked earlier. “Finish our drinks, and then we’ll head out?” I even giggled for added effect.
I raised my glass to cheers, and then I started chugging.
When I woke up, my head felt like it had been split open. What the fuck had I drunk last night? I couldn’t even fucking remember, and I always did. I might not have a knack for names or faces, but alcohol and I were old friends. I must have gone way over my personal limit.
Then, I something came back to me—a flash of blonde hair…a pair of dark blue eyes…a giggle.
I reached over to check out who was in bed next to me. I didn’t think I’d taken someone home, but if all I could remember when waking up was a chick, it was a pretty safe bet that she was in my bed.
The girl rolled over and smiled at me, and I had absolutely no recollection of who she was.
Brown hair, brown eyes. No, this couldn’t be the same person. Then, who is the girl from last night? I’d kissed her. I’d tasted her. She’d been mine for the taking. And if I remembered her so vividly, then why the fuck hadn’t I fucked her last night?
I swung my legs over the bed and stood. I was going to fucking find out.
“Hey, where are you going?” the chick asked. “Aren’t you interested in round three?”
Round three? Shit, had I fucked that girl twice?
“Not interested. Find your own way out,” I said, throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
“Grant! We had such a great time last night.”
“I don’t even remember fucking you.” My dog tags swung around my neck as I surged out of my room.
I probably shouldn’t have left a crazy bitch unattended in my bedroom, but the only things of value I had in there were my half ounce of weed and a 9mm.
I barreled down the stairs and banged on Vin’s door until he answered. Sweat pooled on his brow. He must have already started his morning workout.
“What the fuck, bro?”
“What the fuck happened last night?”
Vin scratched his head and looked at me like I was out of my mind. “We played a show at the League. What do you mean, what happened?”
“I know that, dipshit. I remember the show, but then everything else is fuzzy. I have some chick in my bed, but all I remember is another girl.”
“Whoa! Is my main man, G-man, G-money, G-dog, the one and only man in this house who cares to hit the G-spot, pining over a girl?”
“I don’t even know who the fuck the girl is, Vin. You can’t pine after someone you don’t know. I just want to know what the hell happened. I remember one blonde chick, but I have another dumb brunette in my bed.”
Vin laughed in my face. “Blonde chick, huh? That’s real specific.”
“Fuck you, man. I’m going next door to see if Miller or McAvoy will be more helpful than your ass.”
I slammed my palm down on the doorframe, then turned and walked toward the front door just as the chick from upstairs stopped on the landing.
“Why aren’t you out of my house yet?” I demanded.
The girl glared at me. “Aren’t you at least going to give me a ride back to campus?”
“Fucking walk home for all I care.”
“You know, I didn’t believe my friend when she said you treated girls like dirt after sleeping with them, but damn, she was right.”
I shrugged, and she started to walk out.
Then, I had an idea. “Hey!”
“Yeah?” She turned and batted her eyelashes at me.
Even after I had just been a total dick to her, she was still interested. Why would I act any other way?
“Do you remember me talking to a blonde chick last night?”
“Oh my fucking God, Grant,” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “You are at an all-time low. If you weren’t amazing in bed—”
“Yeah, but I am. So, do you remember?”
“There were a ton of blonde girls at the bar last night, and even if I cared to remember, I don’t.” She started typing on her phone as she stormed away.
Useless.
“Bro, you’re acting crazy,” Vin said. He was standing in the living room with his arms crossed over his bare chest.
“I don’t remember anything but this girl.”
Vin looked at me like he thought I was losing it, but he filled me in nonetheless. “We walked offstage and drank some beers. You started making out with these two chicks, but I interrupted. I spiked some girl’s drink, and you were going to find out if she had a boyfriend. Since you’re fucking piece of shit, you decided to snag her from me after I’d done all the dirty work. But don’t worry, bro. I found another chick who did want my dick last night.”
I didn’t care about Vin’s conquest. I just wanted to know about the girl. “So, what happened with the blonde chick?”
“I think she bailed with her friends, and then you left with that other chick.”
It hit me like a two-by-four to the chest—blonde, dark blue eyes, mouthy spitfire. Aribel—that was her name. She’d been playing hard to get. I’d known off the bat that she hadn’t taken a sip of Vin’s drink. And she had been fucking hot under that prim-and-proper attitude. Then, after I’d kissed her, she must have given me the drink Vin had dosed.
What the fuck?
“Do you remember now?”
“Yeah.” I felt like an idiot, and it was an emotion I wasn’t used to. No way was I going to let Vin know that chick had gotten the better of me. I’d never fucking hear the end of it.
“Maybe try a new kind of weed or lay off the heavy liquor. You’re freaking me out.” Vin started walking back to his room, probably to do another hundred push-ups or something.
I couldn’t get Aribel out of my mind. Why had she given me that beer? What kind of girl would go to such extremes to get rid of me? I wanted to find out.
“Hey, Vin. That girl you dosed—you said you knew her friend, right?”
“Her roommate Cheyenne,” Vin offered. “Yeah, I know her. Why?”
“You got her number?”
Vin shrugged. “Yeah.”
“I need it.”
“You want to fuck her? Because I’m already moving in on that,” Vin told me.
“Keep her. I want the roommate.”
Gabi rubbed her eyes as she walked into the kitchen. Her blonde pixie cut was slightly askew, and as always, she looked a bit like she was up in the clouds. “What are you doing up so early?” she asked softly.
“Going over my calculus assignment.” I’d completed it two days ago, but I’d woken up in the middle of the night, realizing I’d done something wrong.
Sh
e nodded and then went about pouring herself some cereal before collapsing into a chair. A minute later, Cheyenne appeared with plenty of makeup and her curly red hair managed. She sank into the chair next to me and fixed me with a direct stare.
“Do you need something?” I asked, glancing up from my homework.
“Will you please tell me what happened last night? I have to know. I’m literally dying on the inside. I could hardly sleep,” she said dramatically. “Imagine failing a chemistry test.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Exactly. That’s how terrible I feel because you’re keeping this from me. I have to know.” Her green eyes were wide as she reached out and grabbed my hands in hers. She was acting like this really was life or death.
I just rolled my eyes.
“Leave her alone, Cheyenne,” Gabi peeped. “Her boyfriend just broke up with her, and she had to deal with whatever happened with Grant. Can’t you cut her some slack?”
“But it’s Grant McDermott!” Cheyenne cried.
Gabi shrugged her petite shoulders and returned her gaze to her cereal.
“So spill,” Cheyenne said.
I set my pencil down on my paper with a thwack. “If you want to find out what happened, ask Grant…if he even remembers this morning.”
“What does that mean?”
I cracked up laughing and then immediately covered my mouth with my hand. I shouldn’t have taken so much enjoyment from watching Grant drink that beer, but I had. Let the asshole get a dose of his own medicine for a change.
“Oh no, I know that look,” Cheyenne groaned. “What did you do?”
“Some guy slipped something in my drink last night. I saw him do it.”
“What?” Cheyenne asked in shock. “You saw him? What did he look like?”
“Yeah, I did. I don’t know who he was. He was beefy with a shaved head, and his shirt was too tight. I think you were talking to him at some point.”
“You mean Vin? The guitar player in ContraBand?” she asked in disbelief.
“Sure.”
“Bastard!”
“Anyway, Grant propositioned me, and then when I said no, he wouldn’t leave me alone. So, I gave him my glass instead of his. He probably doesn’t remember any of it.”