Becoming His (6 page)

“Let’s go find you a rebound,” she cries, shooting me a playful grin.

I lead the way to my car without responding. I don’t need to. We both know I’m only attending this party out of obligation. After nine months I still haven’t cashed in my V-card with Eric; there’s no chance I’ll do it tonight.

It’s not that I believe people should wait for marriage or find the love of their life to have sex, if that’s even a reality. It’s just that I’ve heard all my sisters and many of my friends discuss losing their virginity. Inevitably they all seemed to regret their decision—some within mere hours of completing the deed. I’m beginning to consider that perhaps this is just a side effect of having sex for the first time because although you understand anatomically what happens, you don’t really know what to expect, and it’s supposed to be painful, so really, how can it be anything other than awkward and result in some degree of regret.

Before leaving for France I’d decided that when I returned home I would cash it in with Eric. I half expect a convent to begin contacting me if I hit twenty, still a virgin. Now with cringing each time I analyze mine and Eric’s relationship, and continuing to conclude things are just convenient between us, I’m feeling more reluctant to lose my virginity status; it’s one thing that I hold complete control over.

I certainly haven’t always played by the rules. I can drink any of my sisters under the table, and I’ve done my share of sneaking out and partying, but I realized at a very young age from growing up in a house with five kids that you have no control over most things in life, being the youngest this was especially true at times.

W
hen we arrive at Karli’s I’m not surprised to see a large number of people from high school. Most of them are from Kendall’s class, even though Karli’s a year between Kendall and me.

“Oh my god! Great shoes!” I look over to see Britney Ballard with her round face and short blond hair that’s been subjected to a straightening iron so many times it now resembles the coarse ends of an old, used broom. She smiles at me excitedly and I instantly regret my mental comparison. I don’t want to be judgmental and catty. That’s one of the many reasons I despise being at these parties; they’re filled with lies and fake exchanges. I wipe away my fleeting thoughts and plaster a smile to my face, glancing down at the cobalt blue heels I’m wearing.

“Thanks! I love your dress,” I add before fully taking in the low cut silver dress she has on.

“I’m so glad you guys made it! I heard someone say they thought they saw you guys were home for the summer!”

“Hey, Britney.” Kendall smiles warmly at her and I look on in amazement. She has the uncanny ability to recall people’s names at the drop of a hat. I’m certain it can be attributed to the many social events my mother’s hosted since we were young, but it’s still impressive since I doubt these two have seen each other in years.

“This is like a high school reunion!” Jeanie Ebbs squeals, throwing her arms around my neck. Her dark brown hair falls across my face in a curtain as I hug her, cringing at the reality of her evaluation. She pulls back, smiling widely at me. I’ve always liked Jeanie and wish I kept in touch with her better. Her smile and happy personality has always been contagious and fun.

“Nathan Hudson is here and dear lord he’s gotten even hotter!” I look at her grinning face and notice her glassy expression; she’s already had too much to drink.

Nathan, who I like to call Nate—solely because he hates it—is a stereotypical pretty boy. He’s undeniably good looking: clean cut, perfect white smile, deep tan from hours of being outside shirtless, always adorned with Abercrombie styled clothing. My mom used to tell us it was boys like Nathan Hudson we should seek to date because they were “good boys.”

My mom’s wrong.

Nathan Hudson is none of the amazing things she assumes he is. Rather, he’s conceited, manipulative, and conniving, expecting every girl to want him. Unfortunately most of them did all throughout high school, and it sounds like they still do. Even after sleeping with nearly everyone I know, including Kendall, he somehow has never been labeled a player.

“Who cares about him?” Kendall says brazenly, in true fashion of any scorned woman. I want to remind her again that I didn’t want to come because people like Nate always attend Karli’s parties, but based on the anxious look on her face, I don’t.

“Come on, Ace, take a shot with me for old times’ sake!” Jeanie pleads, tugging on my fingers she’s entwined with hers. I shake my head gently as I give her a small smile.

“Oh, come on, we used to have so much fun! Don’t you remember?” She drops my fingers and sticks her bottom lip out. Five-year-olds are pretty difficult to refuse with this face, twenty-year-olds aren’t.

“Maybe later.” My words don’t need to appease her; she’s already distracted thankfully. I link arms with Kendall and follow her through a web of people.

We stop to talk with several familiar faces about surface topics. Kendall loves this stuff; she’d make a great politician one day if she was willing to wear longer skirts,
much
longer skirts.

My smile to an old soccer teammate turns into a wince as Kendall’s nails dig into the tender flesh on the underside of my forearm.

“Jameson’s here.” She works to maintain her grip on my arm.

“Ow! You’re like a python with claws!” I use my other hand to physically pull her fingers loose as I glance up in the direction she’s staring and catch a glimpse of Jameson before turning my attention back to freeing my arm.

“Is that why you wanted to come so much?” I ask, eyeing the way her shoulders square and her chest pushes out a bit further as I finally wrench my arm free.

“No! Of course not!” Kendall answers defiantly, but her actions sell her out as she tucks her blond hair behind her ear—a clear indication that my sister isn’t being truthful, at least not entirely. Most people wouldn’t know she’s lying; she can lie with immense conviction and not bat an eye, but years of experience has taught me that she, like all of my sisters, has a nearly indiscernible giveaway.

“H
ow are you going to know if you like the guy if we’re going to avoid him all night?” I ask after we dodge Jameson once again. We’ve been here for two hours, and still she’s refusing to talk to him.

“I’m waiting for him to come over.” Kendall whines impatiently.

“How can he when we keep moving? Are you sure he’s actually seen you?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course he’s seen us. Your pants pretty much glow in the dark!”

I stare at her for a long moment so she can see my growing frustration then close my eyes and count to ten to keep from strangling her when she doesn’t seem to care.

“I’m going to the restroom,” I yell over the music pouring from the speaker we’re standing too close to. I need a breather. She nods without breaking her intense eye stalking and I set off.

The bathroom has a line eleven people long, and I really don’t need to go, so instead I turn back to head to where I’d seen my friend, Maria, and feel a hand clasp over my shoulder.

I look at the large hand that’s holding my shoulder and turn to see Nathan Hudson. My eyes go past him for a second and focus on Brock Walker and Max a couple of feet from us. Max’s eyes flash to mine, and his head turns as though he’s as surprised to see me as I am him.

“What’s up, baby Bosse? How are you doing, Ace?” Nate asks, making it apparent that he’s checking me out as his eyes slowly travel up and down my body. The simple act coming from Nate makes me feel violated, and I frown in response, repositioning my body so I’m leaning on my back leg to attempt a little more space.

“How’s your summer been?” He gives me a wicked grin like it’s an invitation.

The last thing I want to do is make small talk with him. I glance around, grasping for a distraction, and come up empty. “It’s good,” I reluctantly reply, not bothering to ask how his is, hoping he’ll lose interest.

“How are things going with Eric? Where’s he tonight?” I keep my attention on Nate but notice Max sag a bit as Javier Torres approaches him and wraps an arm around his shoulder in a man-hug.

“He’s around,” I answer vaguely. He nods with a cocky smirk, and I can tell he knows I’m lying.

“You want to get a drink or something? You used to promise me you would, and it still hasn’t happened.”

“Maybe that’s a hint.”

“Oh, come on, you know you want this.” I watch from the corner of my eye as he reaches down and lifts the hem of his T-shirt exposing his stomach muscles and part of his chest.

I refuse to play his game and don’t break eye contact with him. “Do you want me to congratulate you on knowing how to do a sit-up?”

A loud scoff bursts from his lips as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “A sit-up? Do you know what I do to train my body to keep it in this kind of condition?” He still has his shirt pulled up, and I still refuse to let my eyes wander from his as we stand there in a silent stalemate.

“Come on, I showed you mine now you show me yours,” he says, practicing his wicked, I-know-you-want-me smile once more as he shifts closer and grips the hem of my blouse in his free hand.

I instantly take a step back and smack his hand away, glaring at him as I feel my heart accelerate. “If you touch me again, I’ll break. Your. Nose.”

“You and I need to have a serious talk; you still think I’m a bad guy. That or you’re playing hard to get. If that’s the case, I’ll play along.”

Max stops talking and takes a few steps closer, breaking my attention from Nate for a second. The realization that he’s hanging out with Nate, and may be just like him, makes my stomach falter.

“I’m not interested in you, Nate. I never have been. You don’t understand what personal space is. And let’s face it, I’ve heard enough of your reviews to know that your open garage houses a very compact car.” I glance at his crotch.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with all of me, baby.”

“It’s a good thing we’ll never have to find out.” I eye him again with a silent threat to leave me alone before I turn and walk away.

“You need to talk to me, Ace, trust me. You may even find that you like me,” he calls to my back, but I don’t bother replying.

The backyard’s mostly filled with smokers, which taints the fresh air appeal, but I need a few moments before distributing more fake smiles and playing cat and mouse games with Kendall and Jameson.

I make a beeline to an empty picnic table at the far corner of the yard and sit on the table with my feet resting on the wet bench emanating the stench of beer. My head drops back to stare at the night sky. There are too many lights to see any stars, but the wide expanse is comforting and allows me to breathe a bit easier.

“You know you’re a game to him.”

I look up at the familiar voice that’s been haunting far too many of my dreams over the past week and see Max. He leans the top of his thigh against the picnic table, his eyes hidden beneath dark lashes as he looks down and shoves a hand in his pocket.

“He needs to find a new opponent, because it’s not going to happen.”

Max shrugs. “It might be easier just to sleep with him and get it over with.”

My eyebrows shoot up as I look at him incredulously. “I appreciate your advice, and you thinking so highly of me.”

Max shrugs again as if completely impassive. “I’m not trying to be offensive.” He doesn’t even glance in my direction as he continues,
real sincere
. “He likes you and seems like your type.” His shoulders lift in another shrug, and I find the gesture to be maddening as all hell. I can’t believe my thoughts have been so consumed by him lately.

“
My type
?” My voice rises in contempt.

“You know, pretty boy, likes to talk about himself and how great he is. Spends a decent amount of his day on his hair.”

“That’s what you think my type is?” My mind races in multiple directions: first to the last few guys that I’ve dated, then to why in the hell Max is out here doling advice. “Isn’t he your friend?” The words burst from my mouth as the minor detail rushes to the forefront of my mind. “It’s good to know it’s not just people you don’t know you have no problem insulting.”

“Hell no.” Max shakes his head. “He came by to say hello, and you showed up.”

I turn away from him, feeling my neck and shoulders burn with tension, and follow an airplane as it flies overhead. I’ve always loved airplanes; to me they signify defying convention. “I don’t have a type.”

“He and Eric seem pretty similar. Plus, I went to high school with you.”

The fact that Max admits to paying attention to me in high school makes me want to smile with elation, which is completely irrational since he’s still insulting me so I maintain my focus on the airplane and wonder where they’re going, who’s on the plane, and why are they going? Business? Travel? To escape?

“Nate isn’t my type. He makes my skin crawl,” I admit.

“Usually girls say that
after
they’ve slept with him.” I turn my attention from the sky to see if he’s insinuating that I’ve slept with Nate, or if he’s feeling the effects of the party and doesn’t realize what he’s said. He looks as sober as I am.

“Who in the hell do you think you are?” My voice startles me as the words come out louder than I intend. Other than the tightening of his jaw, Max looks completely unfazed by my outburst, which just pisses me off even more. “You don’t know anything about me! You think because some asshole pays attention to me, that I should spread my legs? That might be your game, but it sure as hell isn’t mine.”

Max keeps his eyes focused on mine as an intense stare down ensues between us. The pull that I had felt to him last week seems like a distant memory as I see a dark fierceness in his eyes, as though I’ve in some way insulted
him
. Finally his eyes fall to the table, and I take the opportunity to leave. I have to force myself not to run and make it obvious just how uncomfortable he’s made me.

I
spend the next couple of hours working to avoid Nate, Jameson, and now Max, as I politely mingle and discuss high school memories with nearly everyone. I find it ironic that prior to graduating all you heard people talk about at parties was the excitement of graduating and plans for after school. Now everyone reminisces about every last detail of high school, even though we’ve barely left. In some ways I can understand it; it’s hard to move forward and it can be scary as all hell. I ended up unable to bring myself to go any further from home than San Diego, even though I’d been accepted to several schools on the East Coast where I’d always imagined myself going.