Really, all I want to do is go to my room and order a burger and French fries, but we’re supposed to be “partying,” and the cameras are making sure not to miss a single moment of the stupidity happening here.
I even begin to wonder if some of it is purely for marketing purposes.
Hanging close to a cameraman so he won’t tape me—I’m sure I’m wearing my most sour, tart face—I spot Mackenna by the beer pong. The amount of alcohol around here is mind-boggling. Body shots all over the place. Beer pong, drinks, booze, drugs. Even a shisha is going around.
I might try that if I were with my friends. Mel and Brooke, Kyle . . .
As it is, I won’t drop my guard for a second, especially with Mackenna Jones nearby and a thousand cameras around us. Imagine me drunk? With Mackenna nearby?
I might kill him.
I might . . . well, he’s so disgustingly male, I might feel him up while I kill him.
His lean arms are resting on the table as he waits for his opponent to throw the ball into his beer cup. His opponent happens to be one of the twins, and after he fails to make his shot, Mackenna smoothly dumps the ball into his cup, laughing while making the Viking—I think it’s Lex—drink.
Yeah, those two are pounding the booze.
I want to stop staring, but I can’t. Mackenna laughs out loud a lot, and the sound easily reaches my ears even though I’m across the room.
He’s changed in all these years. He’s still got that aura of a boy, but he’s so much a man now. I can’t stop cataloguing the differences. His jaw is squarer and slightly shadowed. Fuller lips. Thicker throat. He’s got muscles on his arms like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just so tan and . . . man. I watch as he waits for Lex to throw the ball into his beer cup again.
Then I notice that a dancer, Letitta, keeps eyeing me maliciously. She cranes her neck out like a mean bird as she comes to me. I’m disappointed to see the cameraman follow.
She hovers by my side and signals in the direction of my gaze.
“He’s such a good fuck.” Her greedy, beady little eyes slither over Mackenna, and, wow, her smile is just like I imagined Cruella De Vil’s right before she skins the fucking puppies.
An evil feeling crawls through me when I realize she, of course, has fucked that body in far more ways than I ever, in my stupid innocence, could have. I force a smile onto my face and twirl my pink strand of hair as I say, “I know, I broke him in.” I start to leave, but her voice stops me.
“You think you look cool and badass, but you don’t. Not really.”
“Thanks. I’ve been wondering what you thought about me. Now I can go rearrange my whole personality to suit you.” I look at the guy behind the camera, who’s grinning like he’s just struck gold, and I try to keep my cool, even though my anger is simmering under the surface of my skin.
She scrunches her face up until she looks like a little gremlin. “He hates your guts, girl. I swear the lyrics of ‘Pandora’s Kiss’ just needed to add the fact that he wished you dead. Why would he even look at you, if not to break you right now?”
I laugh. This kind of laugh, I’m actually used to. The kind that means I’m the opposite of happy and mirthful. “He already broke me, there’s nothing to break anymore, and when I reglued myself, I made it a priority not to put the heart back in. So it’s cool. Thanks for worrying about me. Your concern is touching.”
She jumps ahead of me and grabs one of my arms. “And yet you keep staring at him like you think he’s yours. He’s not.”
“Let go of me unless you want me to punch you,” I warn.
“Wow. You’re just like a man, aren’t you,” she says.
“Hey, Tit,” Lex calls, coming over to her and eyeing us both as though sensing we’re about to have a real live catfight, right here. I’m surprised he didn’t ease back and enjoy the view.
Maybe he isn’t such a douche bag after all.
Tit’s face switches in an instant from angry-gremlin mode to sweet-coquette mode as he comes over. He wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her on the mouth. God, I can’t believe these guys just pass around a woman like that.
Or actually, I can.
But I can’t believe they call her “Tit.”
I turn away when I catch Mackenna surveying me with a strange kind of proprietary gaze. Red plastic cup in hand, he starts walking over, and a ball of nervousness fires up in my belly as he approaches. Will you puleeze stop making me nervous, asshole? I want to yell.
“Making friends already?” he says with a smirk.
This smirk is different, though. Almost as if he’s displeased with Tit, which is ridiculous.
And suddenly I remember how, on the weekends after Thanksgiving, I’d escape with him. I remember us going to the ice rink, the day snowed in and cold. We’d watch guys making ice sculptures and we’d skate, and I loved to press close to him because he was always so warm and strong and steady on his feet. We’d see the frozen ice, stiff and white. I’d put on my skates, line up my boots, walk unsteadily into the ice. Then I’d slide over it, and he’d circle me like he was born on it. My Ice Man with silver eyes and warm skin and the world’s most perfect lips. Muscled and strong, it was always so easy for him to reach out and spin me like a top. And then he’d stop me from spinning with a hug, hold me close, and lift the ears of my cap so he could whisper, “You’re so hot you’d thaw this whole ice rink within hours.”
I even begin to wonder if some of it is purely for marketing purposes.
Hanging close to a cameraman so he won’t tape me—I’m sure I’m wearing my most sour, tart face—I spot Mackenna by the beer pong. The amount of alcohol around here is mind-boggling. Body shots all over the place. Beer pong, drinks, booze, drugs. Even a shisha is going around.
I might try that if I were with my friends. Mel and Brooke, Kyle . . .
As it is, I won’t drop my guard for a second, especially with Mackenna Jones nearby and a thousand cameras around us. Imagine me drunk? With Mackenna nearby?
I might kill him.
I might . . . well, he’s so disgustingly male, I might feel him up while I kill him.
His lean arms are resting on the table as he waits for his opponent to throw the ball into his beer cup. His opponent happens to be one of the twins, and after he fails to make his shot, Mackenna smoothly dumps the ball into his cup, laughing while making the Viking—I think it’s Lex—drink.
Yeah, those two are pounding the booze.
I want to stop staring, but I can’t. Mackenna laughs out loud a lot, and the sound easily reaches my ears even though I’m across the room.
He’s changed in all these years. He’s still got that aura of a boy, but he’s so much a man now. I can’t stop cataloguing the differences. His jaw is squarer and slightly shadowed. Fuller lips. Thicker throat. He’s got muscles on his arms like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just so tan and . . . man. I watch as he waits for Lex to throw the ball into his beer cup again.
Then I notice that a dancer, Letitta, keeps eyeing me maliciously. She cranes her neck out like a mean bird as she comes to me. I’m disappointed to see the cameraman follow.
She hovers by my side and signals in the direction of my gaze.
“He’s such a good fuck.” Her greedy, beady little eyes slither over Mackenna, and, wow, her smile is just like I imagined Cruella De Vil’s right before she skins the fucking puppies.
An evil feeling crawls through me when I realize she, of course, has fucked that body in far more ways than I ever, in my stupid innocence, could have. I force a smile onto my face and twirl my pink strand of hair as I say, “I know, I broke him in.” I start to leave, but her voice stops me.
“You think you look cool and badass, but you don’t. Not really.”
“Thanks. I’ve been wondering what you thought about me. Now I can go rearrange my whole personality to suit you.” I look at the guy behind the camera, who’s grinning like he’s just struck gold, and I try to keep my cool, even though my anger is simmering under the surface of my skin.
She scrunches her face up until she looks like a little gremlin. “He hates your guts, girl. I swear the lyrics of ‘Pandora’s Kiss’ just needed to add the fact that he wished you dead. Why would he even look at you, if not to break you right now?”
I laugh. This kind of laugh, I’m actually used to. The kind that means I’m the opposite of happy and mirthful. “He already broke me, there’s nothing to break anymore, and when I reglued myself, I made it a priority not to put the heart back in. So it’s cool. Thanks for worrying about me. Your concern is touching.”
She jumps ahead of me and grabs one of my arms. “And yet you keep staring at him like you think he’s yours. He’s not.”
“Let go of me unless you want me to punch you,” I warn.
“Wow. You’re just like a man, aren’t you,” she says.
“Hey, Tit,” Lex calls, coming over to her and eyeing us both as though sensing we’re about to have a real live catfight, right here. I’m surprised he didn’t ease back and enjoy the view.
Maybe he isn’t such a douche bag after all.
Tit’s face switches in an instant from angry-gremlin mode to sweet-coquette mode as he comes over. He wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her on the mouth. God, I can’t believe these guys just pass around a woman like that.
Or actually, I can.
But I can’t believe they call her “Tit.”
I turn away when I catch Mackenna surveying me with a strange kind of proprietary gaze. Red plastic cup in hand, he starts walking over, and a ball of nervousness fires up in my belly as he approaches. Will you puleeze stop making me nervous, asshole? I want to yell.
“Making friends already?” he says with a smirk.
This smirk is different, though. Almost as if he’s displeased with Tit, which is ridiculous.
And suddenly I remember how, on the weekends after Thanksgiving, I’d escape with him. I remember us going to the ice rink, the day snowed in and cold. We’d watch guys making ice sculptures and we’d skate, and I loved to press close to him because he was always so warm and strong and steady on his feet. We’d see the frozen ice, stiff and white. I’d put on my skates, line up my boots, walk unsteadily into the ice. Then I’d slide over it, and he’d circle me like he was born on it. My Ice Man with silver eyes and warm skin and the world’s most perfect lips. Muscled and strong, it was always so easy for him to reach out and spin me like a top. And then he’d stop me from spinning with a hug, hold me close, and lift the ears of my cap so he could whisper, “You’re so hot you’d thaw this whole ice rink within hours.”
