Page 9 of Come for Me
“To the Hunt.”
“To the Hunt,” the pack repeats, clinking glasses with their neighbors.
From my flute, I spot Taya scurrying and excusing herself as she weaves through the throng until she makes it over to our table. The white tablecloth gets caught on a jewel on her dress as she hangs her purse on the back of her chair. I unhook it from her before she accidentally takes everything with her.
Taya’s typically poised and graceful except when she’s late.
She finally sits, scooting her chair in, whispering, “Hey, what’d I miss?”
“Luna Kathy making a toast about wanting an heir,” I snicker. I take another sip of my beverage.
“Gross.”
“He’s not that bad.”
Caleb’s been my designated friend with benefits since we were barely eighteen. In the beginning, Caleb was a pleasurable distraction from life, a way to scratch an itch and enjoy my fill. At the time, his boyish charm still lingered, slowly evolving into his manly charisma. Long gone were the stumbling attempts to remove my bra, replaced with skilled motions and calculated ease as we found our release in each other.
Staring at Caleb, I try to imagine what our pups would look like.
He catches me and winks.
I lift my glass to him but regret it when I spot who’s sitting next to him.
Aw, shit.
“Incoming,” I warn, hiding my face with my hand.
“Where?” Taya looks around frantically until she spots him, who’s gotten up from his table to make his way toward us.
Tyler.
“Ugh, he’s the worst.Why is he coming over here?”
“I don’t know. He must’ve thought I was staring at him.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Because he was sitting next to Caleb... Oh, shh. Here he comes.”
Tyler towers over Caleb, with his dark hair and pale blue eyes. His good looks make him likable, but it isn’t long before everyone grows up to realize pretty is common, and substance is rare.
Tyler peaked in high school. His insecurity shows up in a pathetic way—mainly cockiness. Otherwise, he gets really uncomfortable in large groups. Tyler can’t engage inconversations not centered around himself and has no interest in any activity if it doesn’t involve nailing the hottest bitch or getting hammered.
“Ladies.” He stops when he sees my best friend. “And Taya.”
She meets his insult with an obvious fake smile.
Their history is... complicated. Taya is the only one who’s been successful in beating Tyler at his own game, making her his number one enemy and vice versa. She slept with him and made it clear she wasn’t impressed. Tyler retaliated, telling everyone how awful she was. Taya, the posh woman she is, said nothing and paid him no mind, making her more credible and Tyler an ass.
They’ve hated each other ever since.
And insistent on trying to get me to sleep with him to spite her.
“You look good.”
“Thanks.” I force a smile, trying my best not to gag.
Tyler has never actually possessed any game, solely relying on his looks. Because when Tyler doesn’t say anything else, his presence plagues our table with awkward silence.
