Someone to Love (2 page)

I grind my heel into the floor. Perhaps it
was my sexy stilettos that inspired him to slither on over.

“You go to Garrison?” He takes a swig from
his soda. Odd that it’s not a beer but a refreshing change of pace.
On second thought, he’s probably got it locked and loaded with an
eighty-proof fuel enhancer.

“Just transferred in.” I turn in an effort to
shut down the prospect of evoking an erection out of him, but he’s
quick to jump back in my line of vision. “Look…” I sigh. “I’m
actually engaged to Pennington.” Sadly, I’ve resorted to playing
fast and loose with the truth in hopes he’ll find someone else to
sexually assault for the evening.

He nearly chokes on his drink. “Really?” His
face ignites in an ear-to-ear grin like he knows I’m lying.

“Really. Our mother’s arranged the whole
thing when we were like twelve.” I leave out the part about meeting
Pen for the first time last week in cyberspace. “He’s pretty nice.”
Nice as a donkey’s ass but that’s none of
Cruise Elton’s
freaking business. Besides, I don’t like the smug look on his face,
like I’m fresh meat ready for the sexual slaughter.

“That’s too bad about the betrothal,” he
says, moving in close as an entire stream of bodies push in behind
him. His soft cologne wraps around me like a pair of strong arms,
and I feel the heat radiating from his body, covering me like a
coat.

A linebacker carrying a keg in his arms,
barrels through the center of the room, parting the crowd like a
Red Sea miracle. The swell of humanity forces Cruise into me and we
land flattened against the wall, with his iron abs pressed against
me so tight you couldn’t squeeze a quarter between us. His hips
adhere to mine with a noticeable protrusion pressed against my
thigh.

Cruise runs his heavy gaze over my features.
His lips part involuntarily. We lock eyes, and neither of us moves
from this compromising position.

The music dies down and a familiar Christmas
carol belts over the speakers, inspiring a bunch of girls in the
corner to sing along.

He grazes his bottom lip with his perfect
straight teeth, so unearthly white they glow. “Do you believe in
love at first sight, Kenny?”

Everything in me freezes. If I did believe in
love at first sight, I would hope it would be with someone as
godlike as Cruise Elton who saw fit to back me in a corner and
bless me with his rock hard body—but, alas, the answer is no.

“After my mom’s fifth marriage ended, I
stopped believing in love and Santa.” It comes out much cheerier
than the sad news it really is.

He pulls his cheek to the side and gives a
sexy smile that sears me with heat in places I’ve never felt
before.

“I don’t believe in it, either. But you can’t
tell me Santa isn’t real.” His grin widens. “I knew I liked you.”
He cups the side of my face and swallows hard. Gone is the playful
flirt as his features take a turn for the serious. His eyes close
as he comes in for the kill. My heart gives a few wild thumps,
alerting me to the fact that Cruise Cock on Fire Elton has the
power to induce a cardiac episode in me if he wanted.

“Whoa.” I slap my hands over his chest and
give a good shove. “Sorry, cowboy, I’m not into one-night stands
either. I get it. I really do,” I say, trying to maneuver my way
from under him. “You’re on a road show with your penis, and trust
me, I’m the last person who wants to get in your way. But I’m
telling you, operation occupy-my-vagina is a no-go for the
evening.”

“Road show?” He mouths the words, perplexed
by my penile analogy, just long enough for me to twist myself free
and speed over to a couple of girls as if I knew them. They’re
standing in front of a vast display of beverages, all of which
guarantee a hangover with the exception of Coke or Pepsi.

I dart a glance back to Cruise only to find
he’s once again surrounded by his hormone happy harem.

A brunette digs her hand into the back of his
jeans while a gorgeous blonde whispers in his ear, inspiring a
laugh out of him. My stomach cinches at the sight of all those
bimbos pawing at him. An unexpected pang of jealousy spreads
through my chest, and I force myself to look away.

“Nice,” I whisper.

“Ally Monroe.” A chipper blonde with bright
red lipstick takes up my hand. She’s wrapped in a
black-and-white-checkered coat, paired with patent leather boots
that inch past her knees. I have on my less-than-warm jean jacket
and spiked knock-off Manolos. Having lived in L.A. all my life, I’m
pretty sure I’m ill-prepared for a brutal Massachusetts winter.

“Kendall,” I say to the two of them.

“Lauren Ashby.” The brunette gives a brief
nod. Her hair cascades around her shoulders in waves, and I admire
it for a moment. My own hair hangs long and for the most part,
straight—dark as soot. Most of the time it just looks like a bad
Halloween wig. “We see you’ve met Cruise.” She tips her head back
and laughs, revealing a pair of light-up Christmas tree earrings
hidden beneath her dark tresses.

“Is he a graduation requirement?” I ask. Not
that I’m anywhere near graduation. I’m a sophomore who recently
upgraded her undeclared status to Liberal Arts with no real
intention of doing anything productive with it.

Lauren laughs so hard she spills her drink
over her bright red heels. “No, but
God
, wouldn’t that be
great? Actually, he’s a mess. Stay away from him. He had a rough
time last summer, and now he’s nothing but a ball of testosterone
on fire.”

“He was shit on.” Ally nods as if to testify
to this.

“He was
shat
on.” Lauren spears her
with a look. “Get your grammar straight.”

Pennington struts by with his collar turned
up like a preppy and a pair of sunglasses firmly planted over his
face, which cements any pending douchebag status I may have
afforded him. I’ve seen enough pictures to know it’s him, plus we
Skyped twice last week to finalize my arrangements. He was supposed
to pick me up from the airport, but he said he had a last-minute
“emergency,” so I blew through half the twenties in my wallet just
transporting myself to this hotbed of immorality. Something tells
me the crisis had to do with malt-grained liquor.

“There’s my future husband,” I say
sarcastically, mostly to myself since they’re both locked in a
heated argument over semantics.

“Pennington?” Ally’s mouth squares out and
the two of them break out in cackles.

I speed over and yank him aside.

“Hey! How’s it going? It’s me, Kendall!” I
pony up all the mock enthusiasm I can muster. “The party was fun
and all, but I sort of just want to get settled in my room. Can I
have the key?”

Pennington secured me a dorm on campus, which
is really hard to do since they’re usually booked by August, and
here it is December, so I guess it’s sort of my Christmas
miracle.

His lips crimp. “About that…”

Or not.

“What happened?” I don’t need to be Nancy
Drew to know this isn’t going to end well.

“Nothing
happened
.” He sloshes his
drink over the floor as if trying to wave off the absurdity.
Pennington is tall and decent in the looks department, not in the
caustic jump-in-my-bed sort of way that Cruise is—Pen is more your
stoner boy next door. I’m sure every female within a twenty-mile
radius would love nothing more than to drag Cruise off to the
nearest bushes, and Pennington—well, he’s the reason girls carry
mace in their purse.

He nods into me. “You’re going to have to
crash here a few nights, just until I get everything squared away
with the housing department. Turns out I didn’t get your name in on
time.” He rolls his eyes as if little details like that were
annoyingly unimportant. “But you’re on a waiting list—put you there
myself.”

“What?” A thread of panic spikes through me.
“I’m homeless?” It comes out more of a whimper than a question.

“No.” He begins to sway because clearly, he’s
wasted out of his irresponsible mind. “When school opens up again,
we’ll get this whole stupid thing straightened out.”

“This whole stupid
thing
?” I’m so
ticked I’m ready to douse him with the contents of his bright red
Solo. “School doesn’t open for another three weeks,” I squawk. “I
was supposed to get settled, not arrested for trespassing. I can’t
stay here.” I fan my arms out at the debauchery just as a
dark-haired boy pukes in the center of the room.

“Suit yourself.” He starts walking away.
“Hey, my mom invited you to dinner Christmas eve.” He gives a
thumbs up before melting into the crowd. Pennington Thurston
Alexander the Third is an ass of the highest order. And with a name
like that, who could really blame him?

What to do?

What to freaking
do
!

I guess there’s always Aunt Jackie. She’s not
my real aunt and I’ve yet to see or speak to her. All I know is
that she and my mother were besties growing up and kept in touch
over the years. They both went to Garrison and now her unreliable
spawn and I are following in their footsteps. I guess I could shake
Pennington down for her number. I’m sure she wouldn’t want me
seeking shelter on park benches or vomit-riddled frat rooms.
Although, I’m not too enthused with the idea of shacking up with
the elders, either. I’ve been dreaming of having the full
collegiate experience ever since I received my acceptance letter
back in May. Having to wait until winter seemed bad enough
already.

I scan the room for Lauren and Ally. Surely
they have a couch I can crash on tonight and maybe the next three
weeks—at this point, I’d take the next three days. I pick up my
pace and begin circling the room. Lauren cackles from the entry,
and I catch them heading outside.

“Wait!” I bolt for my suitcase before
maneuvering toward the door, but navigating my way out of this
human maze is like moving boulders.

I make it to the porch, and the cool dew
baptizes me with the scent of night jasmine. My suitcase bounces
out of the house from behind and slices a nice, clean gash into my
ankle.

“
Pennington
!” Somehow shouting his
name as an expletive makes the situation a little more
bearable.

I look up in time to see a black Jeep pull
away with Ally in the passenger’s seat.

“Great.” I let out a hard sigh and clop down
the rest of the stairs like I actually have someplace to go. In the
distance an owl gives an eerie cry. The wind licks the wound at my
ankle with its iced tongue and I shiver. I’ve never been alone like
this before, in a strange town with nowhere to go. It’s as though I
laid myself in a steel jaw trap and the cruel world were closing in
on me with its nefarious arms.

A couple to my left laughs while locked in an
embrace. It’s not until they pull away do I see it’s Cruise and a
tall redhead wearing thigh-high boots and a miniskirt violating
more than its fair share of public indecency laws.

He catches my eye and holds it a second
before glancing down at my suitcase. My stomach explodes with heat
at the sight of him. Cruise whispers something in her ear,
inspiring me to turn away as if I were at a bus stop waiting for my
invisible ride—only I’m not. I’m stuck at Garrison, at Alpha Sigma
Phi no less—tomorrow is Christmas Eve, I’m homeless, and hungry,
and my feet are pissed off and bleeding.

“Hey, Kenny.” Cruise swoops in and gleams a
boastful smile.

I glance over in time to catch the girl in
the thigh-highs making her way back to the party.

I give a private smile at the thought of
Cruise striking out so close to midnight.

“I would have pegged her for a homerun,” I
say.

“She was.” He gives a lopsided grin and takes
a hold of my suitcase. “But I’d rather grab a bite with you.”

Cruise

The moon glows overhead clear as a
streetlamp, making the clouds look like black paper cutouts against
the navy expanse. The sky threatens us with rain, but since the
heater is out at my place, with my luck, I’m betting on snow.

But, for whatever reason, my run of bad juju
seems to have temporarily halted because a goddess by the name of
Kendall Jordan is sitting in my truck with one hell of a banging
hot bod. And, holy shit, would I ever love to bang that body. But
she’s not the banging type. She made that abundantly clear when she
accused my dick of having a “road show.” She’s funny as hell,
though, I’ll give her that.

We pull into the Johnny Burgers lot, and I
slow down as we pass the front.

“Drive-thru or dine in?” I ask, hinting at
the game of Questions from earlier.

She leans over and inspects the place. Her
hair drapes over her shoulder like a long black scarf, and her pale
grey eyes glow like those of a cat. Instinctively, I want to reach
over and touch her but resist the effort. I have a feeling I’ll be
doing a lot of resisting around Kenny in the very near future.
She’s not the type to voluntarily fall on her knees, and that alone
makes me want her twice as bad.

I look over to the burger joint. The windows
are painted with a snowy scene of Santa making his way down a
chimney with burgers and fries bursting from his sack. Miles of
holly garland outline the doors. I look for the mistletoe—no such
luck.

Kenny blinks into the place with her long
dark lashes, and the lights go out in the establishment before she
can answer.

“I guess that’s drive-thru,” I say, pulling
in and we place our orders. Kenny hasn’t said much, other than
filling me in on Pennington’s housing botch up. I’m not used to
quiet girls. Moaning girls—screaming girls, now
that
I’m
used to. Quiet worries me, makes me feel as if I’m doing something
wrong.

She reaches for her purse.

“No, I got it.” I pay the girl in the window
before Kenny can mime the offer. I catch her inspecting me with
what I’m hoping to God is lust but can just as easily be regret for
ever setting foot in my truck, so I busy myself with putting away
my wallet. “You’re so damn good-looking it borders on illegal.” I
say it calm, more as a fact than something engineered to land her
in bed. I think both me and my dick have come to terms with the
fact Kenny Jordan isn’t choosing
in
tonight.