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"Where's Daemon?" the blonde airhead asked me with exasperation once she rushed over having spotted me in the mist of the crowd.
I did an eye-roll. Did she seriously have to ask?
"I don't know," I snapped. Having Drake Andrews cupping up a feel just minutes ago had left me in a bad mood and looking at the cliche version of the most popular girl in school, who might I add ignored me if she hadn't been looking for my best-friend, was not helping.
"He said he was going to the bathroom," she continued on as if I hadn't said a word, before biting her over-painted rose red lips.
I smirked, knowing full well what was happening.
Daemon spotted a hotter girl than the one standing before me, claimed he needed to go to the bathroom and was now probably hooking up with said hotter girl in ironically the bathroom or one of the seven rooms in Guy Daniel's mansion of a house.
"Once you see him tell him I'm gonna be outside getting some air," she said before disappearing into the crowd once again.
I lifted the drink of spiked cola and drank it, feeling the burning sensation as the alcohol flooded my system.
Daemon, Daemon, Daemon. What was I gonna do with you? I wondered to myself as I chanced a glance to the stainless steel wall clock on the... wall.
11:49 pm.
He should be down any minute. After all, he was my ride home and he knew I had a midnight hour curfew.
Daemon Matthews. My best-friend since those nappy days. My whacked up friend who knew nothing about commitment. The player of the school. That title had left me in more unsavory situations than I choose to be in.
He'd flirt back and forth, sleep with a girl then sleep with the girl's best friend the next day. Fun to say-not- I was left to clean up his mess for him.
'No, sorry Daemon is unavailable at the time being.'
'Yes, he is very sorry.'
'No, Daemon was too drunk.'
And my personal favourite, 'Daemon's moved to Switzerland.'
I've cleaned up more messes than I could count. That's me.
Santana Klaus. No joke. That is my name and don't be running your mouth off teasing me about being named after the jolly white-haired old man that goes around the world in one night handing out free shit.
I would've stood out alone in a room thanks to my stupid name, but add being acquainted with Daemon and everyone recognized me if not knew my name.
I was the girl every girl admired for being so tight with the guy every girl and some guys wanted. And in seven minutes, I was going to be the girl who was going to be grounded until she turned thirty.
11:53 pm.
Shit, Daemon. Where the eff are you?
Hooking up with an airhead, doofus! I answered my own question.
Pulling out my phone, I started composing a message to mom.
Might be a few minutes late. Sorry-
"Sorry, sorry, sorry San," I hear my best-friend scream out before he comes blundering down the stairs, still conspicuously shrugging on his black polo shirt.
I scowl at him.
I could definitely see the appeal to him. I wasn't blind y'know.
Dark curls mussed over messily in an undeniably appealing way. Blue eyes that would make any one melt and a rocking body that was currently hidden by the shirt hugging his toned waist and low-riding jeans that appeared to have been yanked on hurriedly.
He spots me in the crowd and heads over, the crowd parting.
He puts on a 100-watt smile, his dimples making an unscheduled appearance.
"Sorry San. I had business to attend to," he apologizes.
"I can see that." My eyes wander to a brunette with bedroom eyes that had just descended her make-up and clothes in a complete disarray with hair not hiding the fact that she'd just been completely lost in lust minutes ago.
Daemon doesn't bother to look behind him. That's his M.O after all. Once he gets you or you get him for one night, you're invisible to you again, no matter how attractive you are.
"Forgive me?" He plasters on his version of puppy dog eyes which is sexier and effective than the normal one.
"Give me the keys to the Jag and we'll call it even," I hold out my hand for the keys, hoping against hope he'd let me have it.
A scowl appears on his face. "I love you and all San, but I will not let anyone drive the Jag."
Dammit!
"Worth trying, right?" I start walking towards the front door after a swift glance at the clock again.
11:56 pm.
"Hurry up Daemon! You've got exactly under three minutes to get me home or I'll slice off a particular anatomy of yours in your sleep. So let's hope the Jag can make it."
"You wound me San. Of course the Jag can make it!" He rushes after me, ignoring the yells that echo after him. "Besides," he smirks as he stands beside me, "you love me too much to do anything to my prized member." Pressing a kiss on my cheek he gets into his car, leaving me in the cold of the night.
My breath halts as the smile on my face from seconds before disappears.
If only you knew how right you were.
A/N:
Thank you so much for taking the time to chance a read on this book. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment on what you think of BFP!!!
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Best Friends with the Player ✔️ (The Player #1)
Teen Fictionplayer (n) : a male who is skilled at seducing women and is only interested in sex. Santana Marie Klaus has always had a crush on her best friend, Daemon Matthews ever since he saved her from a big bully making fun of her pigtails. A c...