Filthy English (39 page)

“Why? What’s wrong with him?”

He narrowed his eyes, a flash of annoyance on his face. “
Are
you interested?”

“Get real. I study. I work. I sleep.” Occasionally I have sex.

He nodded, his expression growing serious. “Maybe it’s time to move on and trust someone.”

I arched a brow. “But
not
Declan?”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. He held his hands up as if to placate me. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s cool. But you’re exactly his type, physically any way, and I saw the way he looked at you. He’s on the rebound, and I just don’t want you to get hurt. He’s a senior and popular—and well, no one knows
you
.”

“Wow. That hurt. Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I crossed my arms.

He groaned. “It’s just . . . I’ve seen him go through girls like frat boys and their beer. He’s a user and once he’s done with you, he’ll toss you out. You need a nice guy.”

My mouth tightened. “I thought Colby was a nice guy and look how that turned out.” I sighed. “Are you actually jealous?”

He flushed. “I just know how guys think. Declan’s a jerk and you need to avoid him and not do anything stupid.”

“And if by stupid you mean let a guy get me drunk so he can do whatever he wants—I think I learned my lesson.” Blake and I had been arguing a lot lately, and it was always about stupid stuff. Something was off between us. “Whatever. I’m going to find a restroom.”

Shelley’s eyes were big as I turned to walk away, but Blake grabbed my hand and pulled me back. He grimaced, hazel eyes apologetic. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. It’s just—I remember what you looked like, all messed up and crying, and then you tried—”

“Just stop,” I snipped. “Please. I don’t need reminders of my mistakes.”

He reddened, his shoulders dipping down. “I can’t do anything right by you tonight. Forgive me, Elizabeth?”

God, what was wrong with me? He’d always been there for me.

“Of course. I’m sorry for snapping,” I said as his big body leaned in to give me a hug. We embraced tightly, his strong arms encircling my waist as I tilted my head up and met his eyes. They were glistening with some kind of emotion I took as remorse.

“It’s okay,” I murmured and kissed his cheek.

We pulled apart but not before I saw Declan look over his shoulder at us from his place in line at the bar. A strange expression crossed his face, but then it was just as quickly gone.

I couldn’t help but notice that my gaze wasn’t the only one following him around the patio. Almost all the girls. And a few of the guys. He laughed at something someone said on the way back to us, his long legs eating up the ground in big strides. People everywhere clapped him on the back as if congratulating him. He’d nod and smile. Those who didn’t know him seemed to scurry to move, nodding their heads at him, giving him passage.

He had
presence
, as Mom would say.

My mom had dated a string of men with presence—drug problems, felonies, heavy fists.

I groaned. I was spending way too much time analyzing this guy.

But my mouth had other ideas. “So what exactly is Declan’s type,” I asked Blake, turning my eyes to him.

“Blond hair, long legs, smart. Mostly sorority girls with attitudes and rich daddies. In fact, his ex, Nadia, is here somewhere.” He gazed around at the crowd as if to find her.

I snorted. “Rich girls? I’m here on an academic scholarship. I think I’m safe.”

“Safe from what?” Declan asked me as he approached us. I startled. He’d moved a lot faster than I’d thought. He handed me a chilled bottle of water, his warm hands again connecting with mine, his fingers lingering.

Sparks went off on my skin.

Did he carry some kind of electrical current machine around in his pocket?

He handed a Solo cup of beer to Shelley.

I tried to focus my eyes away from him, but the darn things kept returning to him, searching his face and taking in the details. He had a three-inch white scar above his right eyebrow and I found myself wanting to touch it, to trace it with my fingers and ask him what had happened. He was preoccupied with me too, giving me long glances but then looking away and rolling his neck as if what he saw in me made his shoulders tight.

Ha. I bet he had a line of girls waiting to work those kinks out.

But still that didn’t stop me from following him to the back of the yard when he suggested it, saying we could talk without everyone in our face.

Blake went off to dance with one of the fraternity little sisters. Shelley checked with me to make sure I was okay and when I told her I was fine, she and Dax headed out to dance.

We stood with our backs against the fence and watched the party, laughing every now and then at something crazy someone would do in the pool or on the dance floor.

“Do you think we’re the only sober people here?” I asked. I’d noticed he’d been drinking water too.

He shrugged. “My father drinks a lot, and I don’t want to be anything like him.”

I heard the tension in his voice, and because I wanted to ease him, I opened up. “Hmm, no family is perfect. My dad’s in prison—or at least the man my mom tells me is my dad. I’ve never met him, but he’s there for murder.”

His mouth parted, a look of surprise on his face. That I was the spawn of a killer? “Bugger, that must have been tough.”

“He beat a guy to death in an alley outside a bar while he was on probation for selling drugs. He got life.” My gut tightened as I took in his black eye. “My mom says he was a hothead. Maybe it’s a good thing I never knew him. People who use their fists scare me.”

His body tensed at that, but it didn’t stop me from babbling on and on. Maybe it was because he was a stranger, and I figured I’d never see him again. “My mom, on the other hand, wanted to be a Vegas showgirl but then she got pregnant with me. I guess you could say I ruined her life.” I shrugged, pushing those memories away. “So, how did you end up here? Are you an athlete?” My eyes lingered on his broad chest. Again.

He grinned. “No.”

Oh.

“I’m originally from London. My mum was English and my dad’s American—he was the ambassador to England years ago.” He seemed to gather himself, adjusting his stance, his eyes suddenly everywhere except on me. “They divorced when I was a toddler, and when I was ten, Mum died from cancer. Dax and I moved here to Raleigh to live with my dad. I guess you can say we’ve been Americanized in the past few years. At least I got a dual citizenship out of the union.” Hardness grew in his eyes. “He ripped everything away from us and then forgot we existed when he got remarried. I don’t see him often. He doesn’t care.”

I held my water bottle up. “A toast to shitty parents.”

A large blue dragonfly landed on my arm, its stick-like body vibrating. I’m not the kind of girl who screams bloody murder when an insect shows up. The artist in me preferred to study everything in great detail.

“Oh. Look how pretty it is,” I said, but he’d already seen it and had leaned in closer, the smell of him male and potent.

“It tickles,” I giggled after a while, and he shooed the creature away, his gentleness surprising me.

He watched it fly away and then sent me a considering glance. “It’s funny—every time I see a dragonfly, I think it’s my mum’s spirit. She loved them. Crazy-like. She even had this charm bracelet someone had given her, and you’d think she’d have different things on it, but all she bought were dragonfly charms. She had magnets, knickknacks, even paintings.” He rubbed his jawline. “On the day of her funeral, we were at the burial and one landed on Dax and then flew over to me. It hovered around us the entire time and wouldn’t leave. It was strange yet comforting—” He swallowed and then continued. “The day my father showed up at our house to move us here, one followed our car for miles. Weird, right? I—I just always think it’s her looking out for me.”

“That’s beautiful. Is that why you have the tattoo on your neck?”

“Yeah. To always have her with me.”

Him, him, him
, my body said.
Pick him tonight.

I fidgeted, switching my water from one hand to the other.

“Hey, you okay? Did my story bother you?” His eyes watched me, landing on my lips.

I licked them. “Uh, no, it’s just we seem to have this
thing
, like a connection, and I was wondering if maybe, you know, if you weren’t busy later, and you know, if you aren’t with anyone else, and if you think it’s cool, and if you’re attracted to me and like sex, then perhaps you could come back to my place?”

I closed my eyes in horror. Kill me now. Shit, shit, shit. That came out so wrong.

I popped my eyes open to see Blake jogging over to us. Thank God. Someone to rescue me from my stupidity.

I chanced a look at Declan for a reaction to my offer, but his face was a cool mask as he watched Blake approach us.

Had he even heard me? What was up with him?

Blake stopped in front of me, not looking at Declan. “Come on, you love this song. Let’s go dance,” he insisted, grabbing my hand and tugging.

I cleared my throat and got my nerve back up. “Why don’t we all go out and dance? Declan?”

Declan sent me a conflicted look, his eyes going to my hand enclosed in Blake’s and then back to my face. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No, thanks,” he said coolly.

What was that?

“Go on. I’ll be out there in a minute,” I told Blake, who immediately sent me a sulky look but stalked back to the dance floor.

I turned to Declan. “Why don’t you want to dance? No rhythm?” I grinned to lighten the suddenly dark mood he seemed to be in.

“Are you Blake’s girl?” His words were clipped.

“No. I don’t date anyone. I have fun, that’s it. And in case you missed it, I just propositioned you. Horribly.”

His face softened as he touched my hair briefly and then dropped his hand. “You shocked the hell out of me, you know. It was surprisingly . . . earnest and cute.”

Cute?
The worse adjective ever for a girl. A death knell sounded.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I got caught up in the night and you . . .” Obviously, he wasn’t interested.

“Don’t think I’m not into you,” he said rather huskily.

“But?”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Whatever. I should be running like hell from a guy like you anyway.”

His eyes zeroed back in on mine. “Why?”

“Long story.”

He shifted closer to me, his hand brushing mine. “Maybe you can tell me that story someday.”

And then out of the blue, tears pricked at my eyes at his tenderness, and I hurriedly blinked them away before he noticed.

He exhaled, seeming to be uncertain about how to proceed. “Look, I’ve seen you around on campus. You keep to yourself and underneath you seem, well, fragile—and honestly, I like my girls and sex hard. I’d be all over you, and somehow I’m sensing you aren’t down with that.” His intense eyes searched mine. “Putting everything out there, I just broke up with someone a few months back, and I wouldn’t want to use you.”

I got hung up on
I like it hard
, and repeating it in my head made sweat pop out.

“Maybe I want to use you, and I’m not fragile. No one hurts me anymore,” I said, but before he could reply to that, Shelley yelled from the dance floor.

“Elizabeth, get your ass out here and dance with me.” Her arms waved at me to come on, her lithe body gyrating around several partners.

When I turned back to Declan, a pretty girl with blond hair cut in a sharp bob had come up and crooked her arm through his. Thin with big boobs, she wore stilettos and a soft periwinkle dress that probably cost more than my rent.

She took a look at me, dismissed me with a sniff, and turned to Declan.

“Hey, babe, I need to talk to you.” She ran her fingers down his arm.

His entire body stiffened, a cold look on his face as he peered down at her. “What do you want?”

“You,” she whined. “Just give me a chance to explain . . .”

Oh
. The ex?

He flicked his eyes to me and nodded. “It was great to meet you, Elizabeth. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow?
Since when?

He sent me one final look, turned, and walked away with the other girl.

Just like that, my night with Declan was over.

Was I disappointed?
Yes
.

Was I going to let it ruin my first college party?
No
.

Declan

Elizabeth Bennett was the most awkward person to ever come to a frat party.

Not only had she came through the door like she was going to an execution, but she’d asked me to shag her in the most unsophisticated manner I’d ever seen in my days at Whitman. I could live for the next hundred years and my ears would never hear a come-on
that
bad.

Weird or not, no one could deny she was hot as hell. The entire time we’d talked, I hadn’t been able to stop staring at her blue eyes or the way her dress plunged down to the deep V between her breasts—which was frustrating.

I wasn’t here to meet some girl and start something. I didn’t need the distraction.

And the Blake dude?

What in the bloody hell?

He was crazy in love with her, and she had no clue. Or did she?