They looked ridiculously happy. And that probably killed me as much as it did to see him caressing her stomach. I glanced up at his handsome, smiling face and once again wished I’d actually broken his nose when I punched him that day in his room. Given him a reminder of what he’d done to me every time he looked in the mirror. But no broken nose. No nothing on that stupid, perfect face.
I sat roughly back in my chair and quickly put on my large sunglasses. Like that would help. Like they wouldn’t see my hair and know it was me. Who else had hair as naturally red as mine?
“Indy.” Misha, one of my housemates, wiggled her fingers in front of my face before her body blocked my view of them. “What are you doing? Do you feel okay?”
“No,” I panted. “I need to get out of here.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked a little louder, concern lacing her words. “What can I do?”
“Just shh! Don’t draw attention to us,” I whispered, and her dark eyes widened.
She barely glanced over her shoulder before her entire body went rigid. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Let’s go. We need to go. Like right now.”
“Back door.” She nodded in the direction behind me, and I stood and turned at the same time, keeping my head down as I did.
“Indy!”
“Balls,” I whispered harshly, and turned back around to see a guy approaching me—and just past him Vanessa and Dean were staring at me with wide eyes.
“Hey,” the guy said. “I didn’t even see you in here until you stood up. Are you going to the party?”
Do I know this guy? “Uh, what party?”
He gave me a look, amusement dancing in his eyes. “At your neighbors’ house.”
Apparently I do. Unfortunately this wasn’t uncommon lately. After running out of Dean’s frat house at the end of August, I’d called Misha to see if she was on her way back to Ann Arbor, only to find she hadn’t planned on coming back after what had happened between her and Hunter last year. But I hadn’t been about to let her hide away, and I’d needed my friend to cry to, and stand tall with me this year. She’d stood tall, and I was so proud of her . . . Me, not so much. Misha ended up meeting Darryn, a new guy next door, and I’d just tried to lose myself during every party.
Everyone thought I was showing my wild side and finally letting loose since I wasn’t with Dean anymore, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. I wanted to forget Dean, I wanted to forget everything about him and our time together—so I drank until I did just that. The downside of that was times like this. I didn’t remember those nights, which meant I sure as hell didn’t remember the people I’d met or interacted with.
“Most likely . . . ?” I responded awkwardly. “Are you going to stalk me if I do?”
A grin tugged at his lips as he stepped closer. “Don’t you want me to?” he asked huskily, and his arm wrapped around my waist just before his lips fell on mine.
My eyebrows rose, and my eyes widened. Before I could gather myself enough to push him away, he was stepping back. “Wha—”
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said confidently. Turning, he walked back a few tables and sat down where there were a couple of people studying.
I gaped after him for long seconds before turning to leave with Misha, only to find Dean and Vanessa still staring at me. Vanessa with a satisfied smirk, Dean with a raised eyebrow and an annoyed look on his face.
I needed to get out of there before I did something stupid like cry. I needed to get to that party so I could try to have fun as I drank away memories of Dean as I had done every weekend since I’d walked in on him and Vanessa.
“I don’t know what the hell just happened,” I hissed as Misha and I walked out the back door of the coffee shop.
“What do you mean?” She looked over at me with her dark eyes, her expression telling me she really had no clue what I meant.
“That”—I pointed behind us—“in there, that guy. I don’t know him, and I don’t know why he ki—”
She laughed in that soft, quiet way of hers and shook her head—her dark curls bouncing around her face. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you know him, Indy. Quite well, in fact.”
My face fell as we got in her car. “Oh no, no.”
“Oh yes, yes.”
“I’ve slept with him?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I just saw Dean and Vanessa and her stupid, pregnant stomach. And a guy I don’t know—or remember—kissed me. And Dean was there. And—I need a drink. Or five,” I groaned, and slumped down in the passenger seat.
Misha sighed. “That’s usually how the night starts out when you end up sleeping with him or someone else—and then you never seem to remember it.”
I sat back up quickly. “Someone else?” I nearly shouted. “Where are you and Darryn when this is happening? Why don’t you stop me from sleeping with guys I won’t remember the next morning? And why are you just telling me all this now?”
“It’s not like we don’t try, and based on how drunk you get and the things you say, you don’t want anyone telling you about what you do when you’re drunk,” she whispered, her tone indicating she was done with this conversation, and judging from it, I wondered just how many times they’d tried to stop me from myself when I drank.
Six hours later I’d successfully put Dean and Vanessa out of my mind, had lost twice and won once at beer pong, had beat three frat guys at downing six shots the fastest, and had eaten half a loaf of warm, fresh garlic bread.
Wait. What the hell?
“Who gave me bread?” I yelled, and looked around at everyone before tearing off another piece of the soft disgustingness and shoving it in my mouth.
Despite not knowing where it came from, I kept the foil-covered loaf firmly in my grip. I was going to gain five pounds off this alone, and I didn’t care at all right now. Someone started moving against me, and I automatically began moving to the music—half loaf and beer still in hand.
A deep chuckle vibrated against my neck. “What’s that you got there, Indy?”
My eyebrows rose, and my eyes opened sluggishly. “Hmm?”
The person behind me tapped my bread, and I snatched it away from him, holding it close to my chest. “It’s my present. It’s delicious and soft and melts in my mouth, and you can’t have any.”
He pressed his body closer to mine, his hands gripping my hips. “You know what else melts in your mouth,” he said suggestively.
“M&M’s?” I asked with false naivety before laughing loudly and turning to look at him. “I don’t know you, either,” I mused, a smile on my face. “But I do know you, don’t I?”
The handsome guy nodded. “We definitely know each other, Indy.” His body was still moving to the music—as was mine—and his head dipped to kiss behind my ear.
I pushed at his chest, and giggled. Why am I giggling? I’m not a giggler. Am I? Garlic bread plus hot guy plus drinking equals the giggles. Oh God, drinking makes me do math problems. “No.” I drew out the word. “I promised Misha I’d be a good girl.”
A grin tugged at his lips. “You weren’t last week.”
“Last week, huh?” I tilted forward as I studied his eyes, and clapped my bread and cup together. “You’re really hot. Go, me.”
He huffed out a laugh, his expression morphing into something other than the heated look he’d been giving me. He looked confused and kind of shocked. I didn’t blame him—I’d already been mauled by the guy from the coffee shop about an hour ago, and now there was this guy in front of me. I was beginning to wonder how many more guys I’d run into tonight who I’d been hooking up with over the past couple of months. Even through the haze of my drunken mind, I was disgusted with myself.