Page 57

“I’m sorry. I should’ve seen this coming. Forgive me?” The sour stench of beer on her breath hits me like a gut punch.

I gape at her upside-down face. “Are you drunk?”

She brings her thumb and finger together until they almost touch. Then she grins, and her droopy eyes tell me she’s had both her share and mine. “It’s a party . . . Have fun!”

“Oh, sure, because it’ll be super fun for me to be the only sober person in a room full of drunks.”

Jordan spears me with a look. “I’m not drinking.”

Nicole stumbles over and gives Jordan an awkward hug. “I’m so glad you came! Wow, you smell good. Like sugar cookies.” She squints up at him and her eyes widen. “Oh, it’s you! Did I invite you?”

“Uh . . . no.” Jordan stammers as he extracts himself from Nicole’s octopus arms. “Kennedy invited me.”

“I knew that. Look, Kennedy, he came!” Nicole’s face lights up, and she grabs the front of Jordan’s shirt, dragging him down to her level. “You know, when you’re all blurry like this, I can kinda sorta see why Kennedy thinks you’re hot.”

My jaw drops, and my entire body ignites in a column of flame.

Nicole giggles at my mortification, and then without missing a beat, she grabs Jeremy as he walks by and latches her lips to his.

“Give it an hour,” Jordan mutters.

“What?” I tear my gaze from Nicole and Jeremy, hoping Jordan chalks up her comments to drunken ramblings.

He laughs. “Before they all pass out.”

And when they do, it’ll be Jordan and me, all alone in this great big house.

One of the guys—a short, stocky Neanderthal type—bangs the bottle on the floor, drawing my attention. “Spin already!”

With freshly filled cups, the idiots fan out around me, impatiently waiting for my next move. I snatch the bottle from the Neanderthal’s hand at the same time Tyler elbows him in the gut, knocking him into Caleb, who shoves him backward, spilling a full cup of beer into the guy’s lap.

Maybe that’ll cool him off.

Determined to force the damn thing to pick Jordan, I grip the bottle, twisting it back and forth as I calculate the angles and trajectories in my head in an attempt to guide the neck toward my intended target. With a soft grunt, I release it.

And once again, it narrowly misses its mark.

My lips threaten mutiny as Elijah crawls toward me, claiming his third kiss of the night.

Several failed attempts later, the damned bottle still hasn’t chosen the only lips I actually want on mine. Not once. Except for Jordan, and Grant—who passed out about fifteen minutes ago—I’ve kissed everyone several times, and my poor swollen lips are nearly raw. To make matters worse, the treacherous bottle points at the freaking Neanderthal yet again.

His dark eyes flash as he creeps forward through the circle. Despite my veto on hands and tongues, he scoops me into an awkward embrace, pressing every inch of himself against me.

Instinct demands I flee, but squirming against him is the wrong choice. His reaction is instant and horrifying. Something hard and wholly inhuman presses against my stomach, sending me into a mini panic attack. There’s no way that guy, or his deformed penis, is ever getting anywhere near my hymen.

“Stop!” I shout at the top of my lungs, shoving him until he teeters like a broken toy. “Put your little friend away; this isn’t the round for that!”

“Nothin’ li’l ’bout me! I got nine damn inches . . . allmoos a foot of grade-A man meat for ya.” He slurs the words, dropping from his knees to his ass, where he fumbles with his zipper.

“Whoa!” I scoot back as far as I can go without leaving the room entirely. “I don’t want to see it!”

“Dude.” Trey barks out a laugh. “No way are you nine inches!”

“Am too!” The Neanderthal stumbles to his feet in the center of the circle with his pants unbuttoned and halfway unzipped. “I’ll prooooff it. Get a tape meh-ssser.”

“Tape messer?” Caleb scratches his head.

“Meh-ssser,” he slurs again, gesturing with his hands. “A . . . a fuckin’ ruler!”