Hell Sweet, Kayla

6

Blasting music fills the crowded bar. I raise the glass to my lips, the cool beverage soothing as I down the cup in one go, all in high spirits.

"Kayla, you really don't know when to shut it, do you?" my friend cackles as I explain everything that happened in the house.

"How would I have known it was his house?" I reach for her share of the chicken wings, watching her glare at me sternly.

I poke my tongue out at her playfully as she tries to snatch the wing from my grip, failing woefully.

"Not like you eat them anyway," I add, swinging my wing in the air.

Chewing the extra spicy wings, my cheeks quickly flame up. "Cole bailed on me in a big house, then a tall sexy guy appears in front of me. I freaked out."

Wiping a tear from the spiciness, I continue eating. "I should be halfway across the world, but I'm not; so forgive me if I expected the house all to myself."

Damn, this wing is spicy.

I battle with my inner thoughts about whether to quit or win the war, glaring at the extra four wings on her plate.

She lounges back. "Uhm, hello, highly mature male alert. Could be the butler, you know." Sarcasm laces her words, forcing me to roll my eyes.

"What's up with Cole, anyway? Are you really going to spend your break with the stepbrother, or is he coming to get you after making you cancel your trip for some 'special place'?" She makes air quotes with her fingers.

"By the way, who ordered the extra spicy wings?" I try to divert, but she slides off her seat, knowing my game.

Chuckling, I watch my five-foot-nine Israeli best friend strut her sexy self toward the bar, ignoring the stares following her trail, giving me enough room to breathe without choking on my wings with her twenty-one questions.

Drumming my fingers to the rhythm of the song, I hear a voice. "Excuse me." I look up to see a blue-eyed blonde, a roguish grin on his face, dressed like a typical frat boy.

"Are you alone?" he flirts, taking Zimra's seat as I force my eyes not to roll.

Where is Zimra?

I stretch my neck to catch a view of her obvious delay. She laughs with a clubber, doing her infamous smirk when she wants to flirt dangerously or just have fun watching her admirer fall apart.

So much for only girls' night.

Sighing, I snatch a napkin and wipe my lips. "I'm not in the mood, so let's cut to the chase; I don't want to exchange numbers or be your next hookup so you can laugh about it with your friends over there." I hit the nail on the head, watching his mouth fall open in shock.

"Yeah, I saw your eyes shift to that table of all boys. So subtle, not. Now, if you will please excuse me, I am not alone." I pick up another piece of wing, savoring the afterburn taste on my tongue.

He tries to hide his shame and walks away with his beer bottle.

Not sure what possesses me to turn, I see his friends laughing at him, and our eyes meet briefly.

Scoffing, I mutter, "Boys. So predictable."

Zimra returns, darting her brown eyes between me and the guy. "What was that all about?" she asks, pointing her thumb behind her.

"Just one of the frat boys wishing he had his way." She makes a funny disgusted face at my reply and sits down again.

Clearing her throat, she gives me a pointed look. "Now, about Cole." She passes me a glass from the bottle she brought back, gulping hers down.