Chapter- 2, part-1

" WE SHOULD TAKE THIS SOMEWHERE MORE ....PRIVATE". THE

blonde trailed her fingers down my arm, her hazel eyes bright with

invitation as she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. “Or not.

Whatever you’re into.”

My lips curved—not enough to classify as a smile, but enough

to broadcast my thoughts. You can’t handle what I’m into.

Despite her short, tight dress and suggestive words, she

looked like the type who expected sweet nothings and lovemaking

in bed.

I didn’t do sweet nothings or lovemaking.

I fucked a certain way, and only a specific type of woman was

into that shit. Not hardcore BDSM, but not soft. No kissing, no

face-to-face contact. Women agreed, then tried to change it up

halfway through, after which I’d stop and show them the door. I

have no tolerance for people who can’t keep to a simple

agreement.

That was why I stuck to a roster of familiar rotating names

when I needed a release; both sides knew what to expect.

The blonde was not making it onto that roster.

“Not tonight.” I swirled the ice in my glass. “It’s my friend’s

farewell party.”

She followed my gaze toward Josh, who was basking in

female attention of his own. He sprawled on the couch, one of the

few remaining pieces of furniture after he’d packed the house up

in anticipation of his year abroad, and grinned while three women

fawned over him. He’d always been the charming one. While I put

people on edge, he put them at ease, and his approach toward

the fairer sex was the opposite of mine. The more, the merrier,

according to Josh. He’d probably fucked half the D.C. metro

area’s female population by now.

“He can join too.” The blonde edged closer until her tits grazed

my arm. “I don’t mind.”

“Same.” Her friend, a petite brunette who had been quiet up till

now but who’d eyed me like I was a juicy steak since I walked in

the door, piped up. “Lyss and I do everything together.”

The insinuation couldn’t have been clearer had she tattooed it

across her exposed cleavage.

Most guys would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but I was

already bored with the conversation. Nothing turned me off more

than desperation, which reeked stronger than their perfume.

I

didn’t bother answering. Instead, I scanned the room for

something more interesting to hold my attention. If it were a party

for anyone else but Josh, I would’ve skipped it. Between my job

as COO of The Archer Group and my…side project, I had enough

on my plate without attending pointless social gatherings. But

Josh was my best friend—one of the few people whose company I

could stand for more than an hour at a time—and he was leaving

Monday for his gap year as a medical volunteer in Central

America. So here I was, pretending like I actually wanted to be

here.

A silvery laugh pealed through the air, drawing my eyes toward

the source.

Ava. Of course.

Josh’s little sister was so sweet and sunshiney all the time, I

half-expected flowers to sprout on the ground wherever she

walked and a coterie of singing woodland animals to trail behind

her while she traipsed through meadows or whatever girls like her

did.

She stood in the corner with her friends, her face bright with

animation as she laughed at something one of them said. I

wondered if it was a real laugh or a fake laugh. Most laughs—hell,

most people—were fake. They woke up every morning and put on

a mask according to what they wanted that day and who they

wanted the world to see. They smiled at people they hated,

laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, and kissed the asses of those

they secretly hoped to dethrone.

I wasn’t judging. Like everyone else, I had my masks, and they

ran layers deep. But unlike everyone else, I had as much interest

in ass-kissing and small talk as I did in injecting bleach into my

veins.

Knowing Ava, her laugh was real.

Poor girl. The world would eat her alive once she left the

Thayer bubble.

Not my problem.

“Yo.” Josh appeared beside me, his hair tousled and his mouth

stretched into a wide grin. His hangers-on were nowhere—wait,

nope. There they were, dancing to Beyoncé like they were

auditioning for a gig at The Strip Angel while a circle of guys

watched them with their tongues lolling out. Men. My gender could

use a little more standards and a little less thinking with their small

head. “Thanks for showing up, man. Sorry I haven’t said hi till

now. I’ve been…busy.”

“I saw.” I arched an eyebrow at the lipstick print smeared on

the corner of his mouth. “You have a little something on your

face.”

His grin widened. “Badge of honor. Speaking of which, I’m not

interrupting, am I?”

I

glanced at the blonde and brunette, who’d moved on to

making out with each other after failing to capture my interest.

“No.” I shook my head. “A hundred bucks says you won’t

survive the full year in Bumfuck, Nowhere. No women, no parties.

You’ll be back before Halloween.”

“Oh, ye of little faith. There’ll be women, and the party is

wherever I am.” Josh swiped an unopened beer from a nearby

cooler and cracked it open. “I actually wanted to talk to you about

that. Me being gone,” he clarified.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental on me. If you bought

us friendship bracelets, I’m out.”

“Fuck you, dude.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t buy your ass jewelry

if you paid me. No, this is about Ava.”

My glass paused an inch from my lips before I brought it home

and the sweet burn of whiskey flowed down my throat. I hate beer.

It tastes like piss, but since it was the drink du jour at Josh’s

parties, I always brought a flask of Macallan whenever I visited.

“What about her?”

Josh and his sister were close, even if they bickered so much I

wanted to duct tape their mouths sometimes. That was the nature

of siblings—something I’d never quite gotten to experience.

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