The Assistant Coach (BOOK 1: OMEN KING SERIES)

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Leia Welsh

I tug at my too-short black dress, courtesy of Ari's questionable fashion sense. My boobs are practically screaming for attention, and the damn thing keeps riding up with every step I take. And don't even get me started on these torture devices she calls sandals. They're so tight, I swear they're one sharp turn away from snapping.

And my hair? Constantly in my face, thanks to the chilly wind or my never-ending battle with the dress. It's enough to make a girl lose her mind.

Henson smirks at me, taking in the scene of a shirtless girl straddling a guy on the lawn, they're five seconds away from ripping each other's clothes off – all their clothes.

"This place seems fitting for you," Henson remarks, earning an eye roll from me.

"I feel right at home. And I'm sure Ari will be your personal knight in shining armor from these scary big jocks." I shoot back.He always finds some way to indirectly call me a slut, whether it was that one time I wore shorts to the beach or that time I didn't know he was over and was only in my towel. I swear this guy has made it his life's mission to make me hate him, and it's working.

It's ironic because Jorge, Ari's dad, told me that anytime a guy bugged me, I should slap the fuckery out of him. Except I can't exactly do that, because Ari would probably have a heart attack, she's not very big on violence.

"Cut it out, you two," Ari sashays out of the car, looking like a vision in her beige dress and freshly curled auburn hair cascading down to her shoulders. Her strapless clear heels elongate her already perfect legs, making me feel like a slut in comparison.

As we make our way inside, the thumping music assaults my eardrums, I wonder if my hearing will ever be the same again.

The first thing that catches my eye is a blonde dude with hair so slicked back it looks like he used a whole bottle of gel. He's got muscles for days, but that hair? No thank you. And then there's this tall, beefy guy in a letterman jacket, practically swallowing a girl's face near the stairs. Classy.

"I'm going to go mingle," I shout to Ari, who immediately positions herself protectively next to Henson. I bite back a snarky comment and head off into the crowd.

"SOS text me if anything happens," Ari yells after me, to which I give her a thumbs up before disappearing into the sea of bodies. I squeeze my way through the sea of bodies on the dance floor, dodging flailing arms and stepping around spilled drinks until I finally make it to the relative sanctuary of the kitchen.

Standing by the cooler of beers, I can't help but question why I even bothered to agree to come to this party in the first place.

I don't know any of the people here, and the ones who do recognize me only do so as Ari's friend. And to be honest, I'm not exactly interested in making small talk with them just because we have a mutual friend.

But, since I'm already here, I figure I might as well try to make the best of it and strike up a conversation with someone. Who knows, maybe I'll stumble upon a hidden gem among this sea of partygoers.

I scan the kitchen and my eyes fall upon a jock who's practically assaulting a tall blonde girl. They're locked in a messy, public display of affection that makes me want to gag. It's like they've completely forgotten that they're in a kitchen surrounded by other people, and they're on the verge of crossing the line from PDA to a full-blown hookup right then and there.

It's repulsive to witness, but I can't tear my eyes away. Not because it turns me on in any way, but because I'm just amazed at how shamelessly people can act when they're in the throes of lust.