22. Hayden

TWENTY-TWO

HAYDEN

Weaving through the crowd of partygoers, I press my phone to one ear, struggling to hear Juliana's voice amidst the music thumping from the DJ booth next to the pool.

"I still don't understand why I have to arrive late to a party, when I live in the same house.

"HEY, MANNNNN."

A drunken slur sounds to my left, belonging to a fellow Sigma Alpha Epsilon alum, clad in board shorts, who I'm eighty percent positive is named James... or Ben, I don't know, but I hit him with the good-old Kingston charm either way, dabbing him up with a long time no see, then part ways on the pretense of needing to oversee some catering mishap.

"Hellooooooo?" my phone whines.

Oops. "What was that? You cut out."

"I said," Juliana snaps, causing me to bite down on a laugh, as I hand out a slew of fist bumps and head nods on my way back inside. "Why do I have to arrive late, when I live there?"

"First off, no one at this party is supposed to know that. Only my family, once they learn of our ongoing relationship." I hold the door open for a group of guests, earning a brush on the shoulder from the girl in a black bikini, then try not to overthink why it lacks the expected impact. "Second, I needed time to plant a couple seeds about my new girl. Make sure heads are turning, upon your arrival, you know?"

"Rigghhht..." There's no missing the worry in her tone, as an elevator dings on her end of the line. She must be on her way up. I quicken my pace toward the penthouse's private lobby. "Also, did you mean to say new girl? Why not girl friend?"

Whew, now that's a dangerous question— or would be, if this weren't a fake arrangement—like one massive bomb, waiting to detonate right in my face if handled poorly. But in truth, it's a multifaceted answer.

On the one end, there's...

Rule #8: A playboy keeps things casual and undefined.

So, why would I ever have a girlfriend?

On the flip side is the tactical answer pertaining to our contract, which I'll entertain, for the benefit of both parties.

"We're dancing around a fine line here, Juliana. To my family, yes, I'll introduce you as my girlfriend, but to my friends, who've never heard me use such a word and my name in the same sentence, you're just another plaything. Public enough that, if my father were to ask around, he'd discover you're in my same social circle, but not so serious that people start gossiping—then Jeremy would hear. Basically, your name should only come up when someone asks."

"Wow, that is... that actually makes a lot of sense."

I smirk, passing through the kitchen. "Thank you, thank you. I am a bit of a social mastermind."

"But there's still one thing I'm having a hard time believing..."

"What's that?"

"How is Jeremy not going to find out? I know he's out of town this weekend, but I'm his sister, his only sibling. Won't people tell him they saw me with you?"

Andddd, 3D chess enters the ring, once again.

"Well, well, that's the beauty of this whole thing. You're his younger sister. Meaning... he may tell me about whatever's going on with you, because we grew up together, but no one else. To our friends, Jeremy might as well be an only child."

"Oh..."

The line goes silent, as her hurt rings between my ears, akin to nails on a chalkboard scratching along my heartstrings. "He's just protective over you, Jules, and for good reason. Our friends are—how do I word this, politely... not what you would call long-term material."

Her snicker rings in my ear, lifting the heaviness inside me. "Did you just insult yourself?"

I enter the penthouse lobby, gaining the attention of a busty blonde, who looks vaguely familiar. We've likely hooked up before, and judging by the way she bites her lip while passing me by, tells me it could happen again. And I'd be open to it—actively seeking it out, actually—if I felt literally anything at all happening below the belt.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"I sure did. I'm the worst of us all," I purr, as I wait for the elevator, my words suddenly lacking conviction to my own ears. "Don't worry, baby. I'm self-aware."

An annoyed huff is her only response.

I smirk. Seems my pet names still get under her skin. Good. Flaunting her around will be easier than I thought. Whether or not she admits it to herself, she's already my little plaything, who responds so eagerly to my—

Ding.

T-to m-my...

Blood shoots straight to my cock.

Oh fuck...

I suck in a breath, battling a wave of faintness, like the aftershocks of a strong hit of nicotine.

Ohhhhh fucking hell...

Juliana steps off the elevator, and I'd swear on behalf of any religion, all I see is a goddess. Perhaps it's time for my conversion, for I've never felt so compelled to drop to my knees, only so I can repent for each and every one of my sins. Truly, in this moment, if a priest laid my hand atop some holy text, I'd tell him time has slowed to an aching crawl—and I couldn't be more grateful.

My gaze traces down her figure as I'm gripped by the most peculiar of sensations.

Nervousness.

As if, at any moment, she might turn and head right back down to the lobby, snuffing my party altogether. Because a girl who looks like that— she's got ten others to go to.

Flaring out at the end of its long sleeves and cutting off sinfully short at the thighs, a white, fishnet cover up drapes across her silhouette, but that doesn't mean it actually covers up a damn thing. Especially not the red bikini flashing beneath, sporting bottoms tied high on her hips and a triangle top that plunges low, low, low...

With every footfall of her heeled sandals, I'm drooling more and more as she bounces in all the right places. And when I spot the diamond shining inside her belly button, I nearly weep.

"Hey."

And her hair... God, it's perfect. Dark silky curls flow from her high-pony, bangs falling freely, framing her beautiful face, and—

"Hayden?"

My eyes snap to her green ones. Like some enchanted forest, they're impossible to look away from, as her flowery scent douses my senses.

I break from the mist. "Huh?"

"Umm..." Her teeth sink into her bottom lip distractingly. "You're still holding the phone to your ear."

I freeze, her words punching me square in the gut. What is this, fucking amateur hour? Snap the hell out of it! I slot my phone into my pocket quickly, clear my throat, and plaster on a look of cool indifference. Anything to get a grip on my long-lost dignity.

"You look... good."

But she's already wearing a wolfish grin.

Shit. And away it goes...

The upper hand.

At least, so I thought, until I intertwine my fingers with hers, and her confident gaze withers at the sight of the party, through the foyer windows. I squeeze her hand, dragging her attention back onto me—and the fear there, behind her stare, I wish I could squash it dead.

"Just stick with me," is all I say, even though I know the real reason she'll be okay.

I was wrong. So thoroughly wrong. I didn't need to tell a damn soul of her coming. She could show up all on her own. Early, late, on-time, whatever. Everyone would still wonder who she was, and worst of all, every man who's not blind would turn his head to look at her.