Page 45 of High Achiever
“Um.” Spencer scratched at his chest, considering. “Vodka and soda water. Lots of limes, please. Like, at least three.”
Ryder lifted his brows. “You think this party has limes?”
“Bishop always has limes. That’s why his parties are the best—attention to detail.”
Ryder let out a long-suffering sigh and pushed through the squeeze of people to fetch their drinks. He didn’t seem to have to work hard for it. People just kind of … parted for him.
Spencer had planned to wait, but then he saw a familiar face through the entry to the TV room. A little adorable omega all by his lonesome, looking over Bishop’s sound system with a critical eye as he sipped at something in a distinctive red cup.
Spencer strode into the room and wrapped his arm around the little guy’s shoulder. “Everett, right? Dude. You’re the man, having Ash’s back like that. Totally sick.”
Spencer had been meaning to track the guy down and show his appreciation. He knew it couldn’t have been easy squaring off against some horny alpha while Ash had basically been down for the count.
Everett blinked his baby blues at Spencer, then craned his neck to peer over his shoulder. “Is he drunk?”
“No,” Ash answered. He’d been right behind Spencer, it seemed, and now he was leaning all casual and sexy against the doorframe, beer in hand. “He’s just always like this.” He waved a chastising hand Spencer’s way. “Stop pawing at my classmate.”
Spencer grinned, tugging Everett closer. He smelled like tart apples with something sweet on top. Not quite as delicious as charred, gooey marshmallow, but not terrible either. “Aw, spitfire,” Spencer cooed. “You know you’re the only omega I’m pawing at these days.”
“Charming,” Ash drawled.
“It is kind of charming, actually,” Everett said.
Spencer gave him a friendly little shake. “And that’s exactly why you’re the man.”
Ryder came into the room and wordlessly shoved a red Solo cup in Spencer’s hand. There were four limes floating on top.
Spencer grinned at him. “Thanks, big guy.”
He went to take a sip, then saw a familiar figure out on the dance floor. “Yo, Bishop!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Everett yelped and swatted at Spencer’s arm, and Spencer let him go, cupping his hands around his mouth as best he could with the cup in the way and trying again. “Yo, Biiiiishop!”
But Bishop was already heading in the opposite direction. “Aw, man. He didn’t hear me.” Spencer took a sad swig of his drink. It was, like, totally polite to greet the host.
“Good,” Everett snapped.
Spencer frowned down at him. “Why good?”
“Carter hates me.”
“Bishop?” Spencer asked in surprise. “Bishop doesn’t hate anyone. He’s, like, notoriously chill.”
“I know. And yet …” Everett studied his nails with deliberate casualness. “Andno onehates me. I’m cute, I’m smart, I’m fucking charming.”
“Humble?” Ash added.
Everett snapped his fingers at him. “Exactly. Whatever. His loss. He acts like I kicked his puppy. I’d never kick a puppy.” He took a hard swallow of his drink. “Never.”
“Areyoudrunk?” Spencer asked.
Everett sniffed, then took another swallow. “A little, maybe.”
“Why are you at his party if he hates you so much?” Ryder asked.
Aw, look at him, actually contributing to a conversation with a stranger. Spencer had been right to bring them here—Ryder was totally in a socializing mood.
“His parties have all the hot alphas.”
Spencer raised his cup in a salute. “So true.”
