own zone and I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I was content sitting and people-watching.
The mood shifted, and at first I thought it was from the new beat that flowed from the speakers or possibly the change in lighting, making the room almost completely dark. The only lights in the room were from the flashing strobe that had been propped up in one corner of the room.
But the strange shift in mood had nothing to do with the music or the lighting. It had everything to do with the three guys who walked into the living room from outside. Kids stopped dancing as the three of them cut through the room. Some of the boys did that stupid fist bumping thing, while others stared at them in awe.
Those three guys … they were somebody , at least to the people in that room. They each walked with a swagger only someone confident in their own skin could possess. The first two held cocky grins on their faces, weaving through the party and bypassing a horde of girls who practically drooled in their presence.
They made their way to a couch near one wall. The occupants of the couch stared up at them in wide-eyed wonder before hopping up and darting off. One of the guys sat down on the couch with a small, lopsided grin on his face as he spoke to a babbling blonde who stood nearby. The swarm of dancing bodies blocked my view of him from time to time, but I couldn’t drop my gaze from him for very long.
He was too pretty, with a mop of midnight-colored hair and the butterscotch brown of a summer tan. His lips were curved in a sexy grin. Ink ran up his right, inner forearm, but he was too far away for me to tell what the scroll read. The fact that he had ink caused me to ponder his age, though it shouldn’t. My body held ink as well and had since I’d turned seventeen.
The guy was sexy as hell wearing a tight black tee with the words “Mama Tried” written in white and a pair of dark jeans and boots. The shirt held the title one of my favorite Merle Haggard songs, but his clothes instantly reminded me of Johnny Cash, not that he looked anything like him. No, this guy was far too beautiful. He reminded me of Cash because of his “man in black” attire.
Feeling like a total stalker, I dropped my attention from the stranger, reached behind me, and grabbed another Jell-O shot. A strange, yet hauntingly familiar prickling sensation crept up the back of my arms like spider legs. Goose bumps quickly shot across my flesh.
Trying to shake the weird feeling, I brought the cup to my mouth, cocking an eyebrow as a random guy popped up in front of me. Practically planting himself between my legs, he gave me a lazy grin and sipped his beer.
He introduced himself with a name I forgot as soon as he spoke it, and I internally groaned as he ogled my breasts. The guy looked like a complete tool in his baby-blue polo shirt, jeans, and with his hair too long, too shaggy, hanging over his forehead like an English Sheepdog.
With the plastic shot cup pressed against my lips, I stared over his shoulder in boredom. My body grew rigid when I met the even gaze of the guy across the room. Cash. The plastic cup froze, still pressed against my lips. The strange prickling sensation coursed through my body in overdrive.
The guy in front of me began to ramble, unaware of the uneven strum of my heart inside my chest, his words never taking residence inside my head. Across the room, Cash licked his lips, causing me to swallow dryly. A slight smile twisted on one corner of his mouth. A slinky redhead walked up to him and briefly blocked my view, extinguishing our connection. She eased down on the couch beside him and pressed her body against his tall, lanky frame.
Of course he had a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he? Cash was the epitome of a sexy, Southern, good ole boy. And he was obviously attached, yet didn’t mind shooting me a smooth grin across the room. I scowled at my attraction to an apparent playboy.
Rambling guy continued to talk, his words slightly
The mood shifted, and at first I thought it was from the new beat that flowed from the speakers or possibly the change in lighting, making the room almost completely dark. The only lights in the room were from the flashing strobe that had been propped up in one corner of the room.
But the strange shift in mood had nothing to do with the music or the lighting. It had everything to do with the three guys who walked into the living room from outside. Kids stopped dancing as the three of them cut through the room. Some of the boys did that stupid fist bumping thing, while others stared at them in awe.
Those three guys … they were somebody , at least to the people in that room. They each walked with a swagger only someone confident in their own skin could possess. The first two held cocky grins on their faces, weaving through the party and bypassing a horde of girls who practically drooled in their presence.
They made their way to a couch near one wall. The occupants of the couch stared up at them in wide-eyed wonder before hopping up and darting off. One of the guys sat down on the couch with a small, lopsided grin on his face as he spoke to a babbling blonde who stood nearby. The swarm of dancing bodies blocked my view of him from time to time, but I couldn’t drop my gaze from him for very long.
He was too pretty, with a mop of midnight-colored hair and the butterscotch brown of a summer tan. His lips were curved in a sexy grin. Ink ran up his right, inner forearm, but he was too far away for me to tell what the scroll read. The fact that he had ink caused me to ponder his age, though it shouldn’t. My body held ink as well and had since I’d turned seventeen.
The guy was sexy as hell wearing a tight black tee with the words “Mama Tried” written in white and a pair of dark jeans and boots. The shirt held the title one of my favorite Merle Haggard songs, but his clothes instantly reminded me of Johnny Cash, not that he looked anything like him. No, this guy was far too beautiful. He reminded me of Cash because of his “man in black” attire.
Feeling like a total stalker, I dropped my attention from the stranger, reached behind me, and grabbed another Jell-O shot. A strange, yet hauntingly familiar prickling sensation crept up the back of my arms like spider legs. Goose bumps quickly shot across my flesh.
Trying to shake the weird feeling, I brought the cup to my mouth, cocking an eyebrow as a random guy popped up in front of me. Practically planting himself between my legs, he gave me a lazy grin and sipped his beer.
He introduced himself with a name I forgot as soon as he spoke it, and I internally groaned as he ogled my breasts. The guy looked like a complete tool in his baby-blue polo shirt, jeans, and with his hair too long, too shaggy, hanging over his forehead like an English Sheepdog.
With the plastic shot cup pressed against my lips, I stared over his shoulder in boredom. My body grew rigid when I met the even gaze of the guy across the room. Cash. The plastic cup froze, still pressed against my lips. The strange prickling sensation coursed through my body in overdrive.
The guy in front of me began to ramble, unaware of the uneven strum of my heart inside my chest, his words never taking residence inside my head. Across the room, Cash licked his lips, causing me to swallow dryly. A slight smile twisted on one corner of his mouth. A slinky redhead walked up to him and briefly blocked my view, extinguishing our connection. She eased down on the couch beside him and pressed her body against his tall, lanky frame.
Of course he had a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he? Cash was the epitome of a sexy, Southern, good ole boy. And he was obviously attached, yet didn’t mind shooting me a smooth grin across the room. I scowled at my attraction to an apparent playboy.
Rambling guy continued to talk, his words slightly
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