I half-smiled and so did he. He was kind of cute, with dark eyes that drooped in the corners giving him that puppy-dog look.
I took the cup from him and he dumped my old one into the planter a few feet in front of us. He raised his cup. “Cheers. I’m Kevin. You’re in my Sociology 101 class, with the guy your friend is talking to, Dillon.”
I didn’t raise my cup to his or tell him my name, but instead, took a sip. He was right. This one tasted better and was colder. He leaned against the wall beside me so our shoulders touched. I shifted an inch away and took another long sip of my beer. I wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. I’d been forced to be around plenty of men since I was sixteen, but coming up with meaningless conversation wasn’t my thing. The men at the club paid to fuck me, not to have a conversation.
But Crisis had sent me many meaningless texts. Some of the conversations he started were ridiculous like the one about the cucumbers and, once, he went on for a dozen texts about no longer getting the tiny packages of peanuts handed out on flights.
“You hear about the Tear Asunder guys showing up?”
I didn’t say anything. I had no intention of telling some guy about my association with the band.
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped as he pushed away from the wall so he could face me. “You serious? You don’t know Tear Asunder? The rock band?” Obviously, he took my silence for I’d never heard of the band. I stayed quiet, no need to burst his bubble. “Sculpt is the lead singer and used to be an illegal underground fighter and Ream is the lead guitarist and had some melt down last year, but that was squashed. Probably paid off the reporters. Can’t figure out why the drummer and bass guitarist are crashing our party.”
I shrugged and sipped my beer. Neither did I.
He nodded to the crowd where Crisis was. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.” Well, he might be right about that. “He treats chicks like trash. What an asshole.”
I stiffened and the tiny invisible hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. “You ever think the chicks are using him?” Where was my silence? But I was pissed-off and pissed-off trumped silence. “That he’s the one being treated like trash? Because from what I’ve seen all over the internet, it’s the chicks bragging about having slept with Crisis, not the other way around.” Probably, a lot were false reports but, either way, those chicks he slept with . . . that was their choice. They sure as hell weren’t tied down and forced to spread their legs.
“Thanks, Ice.”
Crisis strolled toward us having obviously heard my speech. He didn’t bother introducing himself to Kevin; instead, he moved past him, kissed the top of my head then looped his arm around my waist. “I’m flattered you’d stick up for me.”
“I wasn’t sticking up for you.”
Kevin’s eyes were on Crisis’ arm around my waist. “You know one another?”
“Sort of,” I said at the same time as Crisis said with a definite, “Yes.”
Crisis tugged me closer. “I’m her favorite trash.” I choked on my beer and had to put my hand over my mouth to stop it from spraying Kevin.
Kevin looked like he swallowed a bottle of hot sauce as his eyes widened and mouth gaped looking from me to Crisis.
“You’re dating him?”
“God, no,” I said.
Crisis leaned into me, bowing his head so that his breath swept across my cheek. “Cupcake, really? You embarrassed to admit you’re going out with a smokin’ hot rock star?”
I smacked him in the chest and he grinned.
Kevin looked at us, his face with blotches of red. “Umm, well. I’ll see you in class. I better go . . .” He raised his half-full cup. “Need another.”
“Later,” Crisis said, all the while grinning.
“Can you let go of me now?” His fingers slid from my waist to trickle across my lower back then finally fell away. I expected relief, but I was discovering that when Crisis touched me, I didn’t get that anxious feeling like spiders were crawling all over me.
It was comforting. And despite his man-whore reputation and his crude mouth, I didn’t feel like an object. Shit, I had words scored into my wrist to remind me of the fact.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Crisis said and linked his fingers with mine. “Where did your friend go?”
“She’s with Dillon.” I tugged on my hand, trying to free it from his. He merely tightened his hold and chuckled. I obviously didn’t find it funny. “Crisis. I don’t want to be seen with you.” He certainly didn’t like that as he scowled something fierce. And I didn’t like it when he scowled.
“First time a chick has ever said that to me. Why not, Ice?”
“Because . . .” And that was all I had at the moment. His grip was firm, his hand a little rough as he had callouses on the tips of his fingers. But the inner part of his palm was warm and soft like velvet.
We stared at one another for a moment and I got shivers . . . good shivers. Ones that made my heart race.
He was first to break away. “Well, I want to be seen with you. But I’ll let you have that . . . for now.” He let my hand go, but he kept close, within arm’s reach, as we made our way into the house and through the crowd.
The music was loud and thumping inside, as were the shouts. My step faltered as my mind tried to play dirty with me again.
I am not running.