“Is so.”
“Tatum, shut up.” I look back to Tillie with a smile. “It’s really not. They’re not all that interesting.” I don’t know why I feel the need to protect whatever the fuck I’m protecting, but I’ll blame it on the wine again.
Tillie shrugs. “I don’t know much, only rumors, and of course, Bishop Hayes used to date a girl from my school.” My heartbeat slows, thickening my blood. “And everyone knows who The Elite Kings are. Also,” she adds casually, “Nate and Cash are always at Backyard Bucks, and as usual,” she says casually, lining her lips, “Bishop is always ripping through the streets.”
“What, what, and what?” I ask, stepping closer to her and shimmying into the tight red strapless dress. It’s thin, snug, and has a deep dip over my sternum, showcasing my cleavage.
“You know, Backyard Bucks Octagon, and Bishop, racing?” She looks at me, waiting for me to catch on.
Tatum looks at me sideways. “She’s new. She’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sorry.” I clear my throat, signaling for Tatum to zip up my back. “Did I get this right? Nate in an octagon, and Bishop races what? Cars?”
Tatum starts applying makeup and acting like she isn’t inhaling all the drama and new information. I know this is news to her too, because her mouth is shut and she has her ears tuned in to our convo.
“The races,” Tillie says ashamedly, almost like she thinks she’s not allowed to put her foot in it. Tatum starts applying makeup to my face and fluffing up my natural waves. “I assumed you knew, because, well….” She gestures around the place. “I only know because my sister occasionally sleeps with Jase, Hunter’s older brother. I heard them talking about it, so I snuck out and followed them one day.”
My breathing slows, the information sinking into me. I whack Tatum’s hands away from my face. What the fuck is with these boys?
“Because otherwise, that’s super confidential information. I don’t even know why Jase would’ve told my stupid sister, and please forget I ever told you.”
Tatum holds up a pair of hoop earrings in front of my face. “Earrings?”
My face falls in a death glare. “Hold them.” I get to my feet and storm out my bedroom door. I don’t care that my makeup is only half done and my hair is in a thick mane of soft waves down my back, or that I have no shoes on. This is my fucking house anyway. I fly down the stairs, the deep, slow, dark bass of “Devil’s Night” by D12 already shaking the chandelier that hangs in the foyer. I round the corner to the living room, so fucking angry I want to hit something, preferably all of them, until they tell me what the fuck is going on.
I halt at the opening. They are all lounging around already, with Ally and Lauren stretched over their laps—or should I say, Ally stretched out over Bishop’s lap. Awesome. I needed to hit Tatum for saying he isn’t a manwhore and that he is fussy. Lies. No fussy man would have that dirty slut stretched out across his lap.
Okay, angry Madi is about to rear her ugly head. Maybe another glass? Or bottle… because you’re classy like that. Nate is stretched out, with a bong in one hand and a cigarette in the other, grinning at me. Looking beside him, Hunter’s chopping up white powder on the coffee table and rolling up a hundred-dollar bill. I shiver, not wanting to touch that subject right now.
Bringing my eyes back to Bishop, I see Ally purr against his chest. “Why’s she coming?”
Bishop’s jaw clenches, his eyes staying on mine as he strokes Ally’s hair. He wraps her long mane around his fist, yanking her head up to face him, all while his eyes remain on mine. Locked, entranced, and fucking hypnotic.
He slowly drawls his tongue out and licks her across her bottom lip. “I don’t know, babe. Maybe you should ask Nate why his annoying little sister is coming tonight with her annoying little friends.” He sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, catching it between his teeth, before pulling back roughly. She moans shamelessly—fuck everyone else in the room.
Heat mixed with anger pulses through me. Calm breathing, Madi. Fuck him.
I look to Ally, a grin slithering onto my mouth. “Oh now, now,” I tsk, my poker face game strong. “Don’t act like his kisses are that good.” I roll my eyes with a smirk, narrowing them onto Bishop and cocking my head. “He tastes like washed up whores strung out on crack.” Then I look to Ally. “But I guess, now that I know who he has been kissing”—my smirk deepens—“it actually makes sense.”
“You bi—”
She goes to launch off the couch when a laugh erupts out of me. Nate snatches her arm, shoving her back onto Bishop’s lap. Bishop, who has hunger and hate mixed in his eyes, watches me carefully. I smirk at him, chuckling devilishly. If he thinks I’ll lay back and let him make a fool out of me with his little toy, he’s mistaken. I’ve spent most of my life being made a fool of, and I’ve come to realize, as of recently, I don’t much like feeling that way. Of course, this is because wine.
“You!” Nate points to me. “Need to change. You cannot dress like that here tonight.”
“He’s right.” Cash nods. Cash never says much of anything, so him even adding his two cents is odd.
“First of all, fuckers, I’m not changing. Do you know how long it took to get into this dress?” I ask sweetly, a smile still on my face. “I mean, one can only hope that, whoever the lucky guy is that I find myself with tonight, he finds it easier to take it off than I did putting it on.”
“Shut up. Get changed.” Nate points toward the stairs.
“No,” I hiss, offended and looking him up and down.
“Jesus,” Brantley scoffs. “She’s already buzzed.”
Ally laughs, wrapping Bishop’s hands around her waist as she wiggles on his lap. “Oh, this is comical.”
I flip them both off. “Not as funny as your breath, which tastes like ass, by the way.”
“Oh?” she asks, laughing and getting ready to shame me in front of everyone. Someone like Ally Parker doesn’t go down without a fight. “And you know what ass tastes like?” She and Lauren smirk at each other in triumph.
“Of course I do,” I say stiffly. “I’ve had my lips wrapped around Bishop’s tongue.”
Their laughing instantly stops, and she goes to launch off the couch again, but this time it’s Bishop who halts her movements.
“That was the last time you threaten me, in my fucking house too, by the way,” I say snidely, my shoulders squaring. Fuck her, and fuck these boys.
I turn around, forgetting why I even came down to see them.
“Oh, sis, come on,” Nate moans behind me. I flip him off and run up the stairs to continue getting changed.
New goals: look hot as fuck tonight, get drunk, and hopefully find someone to rub my ass against.
“JESUS.” I GLANCE AT THE stranger in the mirror. “That’s me?” I smirk, brushing myself off.
Tatum and Tillie burst out laughing, both of them nice and tipsy, and me a little bit past tipsy, but still sober enough to walk, talk, and act straight. I’m in that zone where everything is warm, when your blood is pumping, and you just know that tonight is going to be a good night. I can feel it in my bones and in my blood.
I touch my nude lips. “Damn. I look decent.”
“Decent?” Tatum mocks, offended. “Oh, honey, I don’t create decent. I create ‘daaaymn,’” she mocks Smokey and Ice Cube’s voices from the movie Friday.
I burst out laughing. Tatum did fucking good. My brunette hair is dead straight, hanging to my tailbone, my eyes smoked out in black, and my skin dusted in golden bronzer. My cheeks are brushed with peach blush, and my dress has been replaced with a more revealing one. Yup, I ditched the modest tight red dress, which Nate already tried to tell me to change out of, and replaced it with a thin spaghetti strap nude leather-like dress. It clings to my body like a second skin, accentuating my narrow waist and how my hips flare out slightly. It also showcases my bubble butt and D-sized breasts, both of which I always attempt to hide.
Not tonight though. Oh no.
I’ve always been self-conscious of my body. Because I don’t have that nice small butt or the perky small boobs that just sit there and look perfect. I’m not big. I’m actually petite, but my curves are most definitely not. The dress shows most of my boobs and a whole lot of my figure. I’ve done a good job at hiding it—up until now. Ally got to me. Bishop got to me. They all got to me. Now I’m out to fuck them all over, in a small package of a dress.
“Wear the heels.” Tatum throws the black pumps at me.
“I really don’t wanna.”
“I don’t care.” She giggles, taking another drink.
The party downstairs is obviously in full swing, what with the loud pumping music, glasses clinking, and the roar of laughter. The squeals of annoying fucking drunk girls—you’re a drunk girl right now—and the coming and leaving of headlights lighting up my dim bedroom further proves that tonight is going to be a messy night. We spent most of the night up here getting drunk and ready, and it was nice. I feel like I’ve known both Tillie and Tatum all my life, almost like we’re all soul mates but the friend kind. Or maybe girls are supposed to find their soul mates in their friends, and guys are just there for the D.
After I relayed everything that happened in the living room back to the girls, we all decided to switch up my outfit and go a little over the top—which is why I am looking like I am right now.
“Are we ready, girls?” Tillie wiggles her eyebrows from the doorway.
“Wait, wait!” Tatum stops. “Are we getting ass tonight?”
I laugh. “I hope so.”
They both look at me. “Are you a virgin?”
“What?” I’m just about to give them a small fib when I decide I don’t need to lie to these girls. They’re my friends, real ones. “No.” My laughing turns serious. “I’m not kidding. I’m not a virgin. But I’d rather not go there right now.” I pause, looking back to them. “Are either of you?”
Tatum nods.
“No way!” I breathe, but then feel instantly bad that I assumed she wasn’t. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “It’s fine. Most people think I’m a slut.”
“We can talk about this later,” I say to her. That wasn’t a question; it was a promise. I look to Tillie. “What about you?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Then she adds, “Far from it.”
“Oh?” I smile at her. “Like that, huh?”
“Oh, I’m all about women’s sexuality. We have every right to enjoy it just like guys do.”
I hold my fist out to her. “Word!”
We fist-bump, and then Tatum looks at us. “I feel left out. New plan: Get Tatum laid.”
We all laugh, and Tillie swings the door open all the way, letting the bass stream through loudly. There is no one upstairs, which is a relief, but I gather that no one would step up to Nate and the boys by trying to cross them and invading our personal space. No one but me, because fuck them, basically.
We walk down the stairs, laughing and clutching a bottle of champagne each. I’m still not too hot on these heels, but hey, I can blame wine if I fall on my face. Yin Yang Twins’ “Shake” starts playing through the beefy speakers, and Tatum starts dancing and hopping down the stairs, our hair flying around the place. Yup, we are all very much drunk. Dragging us to the living room, where bodies are crushing against each other to the music, we ignore all the staring eyes glued on us as we continue dancing around, blocking everyone out.
I laugh, twisting in Tillie’s grasp. When my eyes land on the boys, who are standing on the other side of the room, I drop down to the floor and grin at them before snaking back up, pressing my butt into Tillie. Not all of them are here, but Nate, Bishop, Brantley, Ace, and Saint are. Ally and Lauren are way past drunk, falling all over the place and rubbing up on each other. A giggle escapes me as my head swings back. They probably think they look sensual. Yeah, if sensual was two drowned raccoons who look like they just got smashed seven ways from Sunday with Charlie Sheen.
Bishop’s eyes slowly lick all over my body, his lip twitching at the corner of his mouth. Psh, yeah right. I look to Nate, who’s already storming up to me, his face red and angry, followed closely by the rest of them.
“Get. Fucking. Changed, Madi. Tonight is not the night to be dressed and acting like this.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I smirk, turning around and dancing against his chest, my ass pressing into him. Gag. “You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a fuck.”
“Tillie!” Saint snaps at my friend.
“Hey!” I click my fingers in his face, stepping between the two of them and narrowing my eyes. “Leave her alone, bud.”
He grins, finding me amusing. “Step away, kitty. You already know we don’t play fair.”
“Oh,” I say, matching his fight, “neither do I. You boys just caught me off guard that night.”
I look to all of them. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re kind of cock blocking us.” Then I take the girls’ hands and walk them outside to where the music is pouring out, and the moon is shining over the bright fairy lights, the colored neons inside the pool, and all the half-naked drunk teens walking around.
I tip my head back, swallowing more wine. “That was fucking awesome.”
A young guy is tilted over one of the lawn chairs, his bottle of tequila hanging between his fingers loosely. Tillie walks up to him, snatching the bottle quickly, and then comes back to us. “Time to really get shit started.”
We drink, dance, and rub against each other until sweat is beading on our skin and the smile lines are permanently imprinted on our faces.
We’re dancing to “Dangerous” by Akon when my eyes land on Carter. He’s walking through the opening doors that lead out to where we are beside the pool. He’s with three or four friends, all wearing their varsity jackets. Damn. I lick my lips. He’s looking a little more delicious than he usually does. Wine. Oh no, Tequila. He’s searching for someone in the crowd, and when his eyes land on me, a smile lights up his face, and probably the rest of outside, because he is just that damn beautiful right now. After being surrounded by asshole moody guys for the past couple of nights, I need this. I need to see a friendly face. Someone who makes me feel good. I wave. Oh God, I just waved.
“Did you just fucking wave?” Tatum hisses from beside me.
“Shut up.” I keep the smile on my face as he walks toward us, drinking in what I’m wearing.
“Well, damn.” He pulls me into his chest, where I instantly melt against him.
I look up at him and smile. “Nice to see you. I’m a bit drunk. Not enough to look like that.” I wave over to Ally and Lauren. Ha ha. “Albeit, still drunk.”
“Did you just say albeit?” Tatum scolds me through a whisper. Jesus, anyone would think I’m the virgin and she’s the cock expert. I discretely shove her away.
Worst. Wingwoman. Ever.
Looking over to Tillie, I see her dancing in one of Carter’s friends’ arms, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, lost in the beat of the song.
Best. Wingwoman. Ever.
Tatum is fired.
He grins, hooking his finger under my chin. “You’re cute as shit. You know that?”
“Hmm.” My eyes narrow as I ponder his words. “Not exactly the best line I’ve heard—”
He kisses me. His warm lips press against mine as his slick tongue slips between my lips. I freeze slightly, but then images of Bishop and Ally come through my brain like a bad romance movie, and my hands wrap around the back of his neck instinctively as I grind into him.
He pulls back, searching my eyes. “Wanna get out of here?” He waits for me to answer and must sense my hesitation. “Your friends can come.” He gestures to Tillie, where she’s locking lips with his friend.
“Okay.” I would not have been this easy had I been sober, and although I’m getting cold feet about this getting laid business, it’s not like anything could happen if Tillie is with me. And besides all of that, Carter’s cool. I’m comforta
ble enough with him to go with him. Or maybe this is another thing I can blame on wine and bad experiences. Only, I have enough of those to last two lifetimes.
“To where?” I ask.
“To a good time?” he replies with a grin.
I look at Tillie, who is looking back at me pleadingly; she obviously isn’t having second thoughts about getting ass tonight.
“Okay.” He takes my hand, and I stop, looking back inside the house.
“Nate and Bishop left if you’re worried about slipping past them?” Carter searches my eyes.
“But Hunter and Saint are….” I look to the side of the house, pulling on his arm and turning to face Tatum. “Come on!”
Tatum looks at us reluctantly. “Fine, fuck it. YOLO and all that shit.”
I laugh, tugging Carter with me, his strong body brushing against my back. “You give me shit about using ‘albeit,’ and then you go and drop something like YOLO?” I unlatch the lock on the side gate and drag them through the finely trimmed gardens until we’re eventually out front of the house.
“Tada!” I laugh, stretching my arms wide.
Carter points to a Porsche. “You’re riding shotgun.” He slaps my ass as he passes me, slipping into the driver seat. The guy Tillie is with gets into the back, and then I shove Tatum in after Tillie.
“Oh, stop complaining.” I smirk at Tatum, who is in the back pressed against the car, trying to escape Tillie sucking face with… “What’s your name?” I ask the hottie in the back.
“Pauly.”
Then I look back to Tatum, only to find her scowling at me. “What kind of car does Bishop have?” I ask, pondering over what Tillie told us earlier tonight.
Carter snickers. “A matte black GranTurismo Maserati, why?” He looks at me over his arm.
I shrug. Of course he owns a Maserati. “Just wondering.” I look back at Carter. “And how do you know what he drives?”
He grins at me from the side. “You’re about to find out.” Then he drops the car into second gear as we zoom onto the highway, the tires eating up the asphalt.