Page 104 of Filthy Beautiful
Shayla laughed and pulled me through the crowd.
The room was filled with rock stars and other assorted sexy/glamorous/dangerous-looking people.
Shayla seemed thrilled about it.
I was nervous.
I could see Brody Mason across the room, with Jesse Mayes. Dirty’s lead guitarist was the kind of gorgeous that would make even the most confident girl trip on her own tongue. And damn, Brody was hotter than I remembered. Of course, I was only a kid when I met him.
My brother had introduced me to both Jesse and Brody, years ago, at a concert. I kind of doubted they’d recognize me; I’d been like ten years old when we met. Either way, I figured I should probably steer clear of them, just in case they figured out who I was—or in case Brody sniffed out that I was too young to be here and kicked me out of his house.
I was actually relieved Zane Traynor didn’t seem to be here. Maybe because Shayla was all weirdly disappointed about it—like she actually thought he was gonna deflower me the moment I walked in the door or something.
“I can’t believe Johnny’s such a dick,” she said as we jostled our way out the big, open doors to the equally crowded patio out back, where people were dancing. “I had to beg him to bring me. He should’ve invited me in the first place.”
“I can’t believe your brother even brings you to parties like this,” I told her, as we found a spot to people watch at one end of the patio. The Black Keys’ “Gold on the Ceiling” was pumping both inside the house and out, courtesy of DJ Summer, and the party had overflowed all the way to the back lawn. I couldn’t believe all the hot girls at this thing. And theguys… “Like, mine would be all freaked about me hanging around all these older guys. He still calls me his little cupcake all the time. He thinks I’m nine or something.”
“Whatever,” Shayla said. “Johnny knows better. I’m eighteen, so it’s not like he can tell me who to fuck. He knows I’m going to anyway. Like, hello.” She made a sweeping gesture to indicate her body, which was wrapped in a very short, very tight magenta dress. She was possibly the only strawberry-blonde in history who could pull off that color. “He just gives me condoms and we basically have one rule. I’m supposed to stay away from his band.” She rolled her eyes.
I noticed she saidsupposed to…
“He gives you condoms?”
“Yup. Shoved a strip of them in my purse on the way here. I have my own, duh. But it makes him feel better.”
“My brother would never do that.”
“You’re sixteen. He’ll figure it out.” She looked me over and made another one of herpsshhtnoises. “Just look at you.”
Well, at least Shayla thought I was hot.
I felt hot. I mean, I knew I was attractive. Like, guys didn’t exactly find me hideous. Somewhere around fifteen, men had started honking their horns at me when they drove past. Construction workers started whistling and calling me “baby.” Once, on the island, I had an entire unit of military guys on a morning run, in full fatigues, rubberneck at me when I passed them on the sidewalk.
That was a good day, ego wise.
Not that I sought out random validation from total strangers. The whole strange-men-hooting-at-me-from-across-the-street thing was a weird mix of offensive-yet-secretly-flattering.
But it really didn’t mean a whole lot.
There was just one guy I really wanted to notice me.
I knew he was way older than me, but Xander just made it so easy for me to like him. If he likedmelike that… I could just go ahead and die happy.
I wasn’t even sure I knew how to handle such a thing.
I just knew I wanted it.
I wanted itbad.
Even if it killed me. That kind of want. Like Ihadto see him this summer…
A warm hand landed on the small of my back, lightly. A man’s hand.
I inched out of the way as some guy edged past me in the crowd. Why did they feel the need to put their hands on you, like they couldn’t just tap your shoulder or something to get you to move?
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, in a low voice—and the whole world caught fire.
I looked up as the heat flashed through me.
