“Fuck!” I jump up, rage coursing through me as I turn around, ready to fucking punch someone. But the hunched over woman giggling stops me in my tracks when I take in her drunken state.
“Can you not watch where you’re going?” I bellow over the music.
But then her head pops up and her smile falls as soon as she sees the wet spot over the crotch of my jeans. As her eyes dance up my torso and land on my face, a spark of recognition ignites and then my brain searches through the filing cabinets of my memory, locating where I know this face from, how those aqua eyes are eerily familiar.
And then it hits me as soon as her friend comes rushing up to her, reaching for her torso and standing her up straight as they both sway on their feet.
“Sydney! Jesus Christ, woman. That’s it, you’re cut off,” the friend chastises as Sydney blinks, releasing her focus on me.
Sydney. Fucking. Matthews.
Miss Perfect, the valedictorian of our graduating class, homecoming and prom queen and all-around good girl is drunk off her ass. And I just got my drink spilled in my lap because of it.
Chapter 5
Sydney
“What?” I blink momentarily, mostly because my eyes are drying out from my contacts, but also to break the staring contest with the bronze-skinned hunk standing in front of me. I swear my mouth started to water at the sight of him, or maybe that’s the indication that I’m about to puke.
“You’re done. You clearly can’t handle your liquor anymore,” Ally speaks in my ear as my head twists to face her.
“No shit, Sherlock. When’s the last time I’ve had alcohol like this? Probably our last semester in law school.” I slur my words and then hiccup as my feet get twisted up in each other, my toe getting caught on my other boot. I lose my balance, causing me to fall face first into the rock hard chest of the man with Coke on his pants—which is all my fault.
“Sydney Matthews,” he mumbles in a deep rasp that strikes a match at the apex of my thighs as his hands move on instinct to prevent me from falling. Holy hell. There are men out there that have voices like that?
But then it dawns on me. He knows my name? How the hell does this guy know me? We’re almost two hours away from Newberry and an hour and half south of Dallas. If we were slightly closer to home it would make sense for someone to recognize me, but part of the allure of coming here was that it was miles from the invisible lines that mark the boundaries of where I have to uphold the Matthews name. I came here to let loose and not fear being judged or photographed in a drunken state, but it seems the world is much smaller than I thought.
“I’m sorry,” I cough, brushing my hair from my face as I stand up and try to right myself, my hand snaking to the front of my shirt to make sure my boob isn’t popping out, my skin turning cold the instant his hands leave it. “Do I know you?”
He chuckles, a laugh that is taunting and degrading. “Of course you don’t recognize me. Why would ‘Perfect Sydney Matthews’ remember anyone who didn’t run in her same circle?”
“Excuse me?”
He scoffs and reaches for some napkins on the table, dabbing at the wetness of his pants. Luckily, they’re dark, so the spot isn’t too noticeable. But the flex of his forearm covered in ink with patches of bare skin peeking through as he moves his hands around is definitely noticeable, hypnotizing me as I forget where I am momentarily. I take the next few seconds to watch him as I vaguely hear Ally trying to garner my attention, but I’m too enraptured to care.
Dark stubble lines his jaw, piercing gold eyes waft back and forth between me and his crotch, the next area my eyes choose to focus on as I try to gauge the outline of his penis. His biceps bulge with each swipe, and the fabric of his shirt that is clinging to every ridge in his abdomen looks so soft that I want to rub my face against it. Not to mention that the backwards ball cap does it for me. It so fucking does.
Christ, Sydney. What the hell is the matter with you?
I’m thinking I’d really like to see this guy strip for me, Magic Mike style … is that too much to ask?
“Getting a good look, Princess?” His words snap me out of my perusal as I shake off the rapture I was under and take in his words.
“Princess?”
“Yeah. Or are you a queen now of your high and mighty world?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You don’t even know me!”
“Ah, but I do,” he says, bopping me on the nose and then looking to Ally. “You’d better get Miss Perfect out of here before she does more damage.”
Ally huffs in disgust. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
He laughs again, shakes his head, and then gathers his empty glass from the table. “No one of importance to you, apparently. Who knew that the valedictorian still wouldn’t know how to handle her liquor ten years later? Watch where you’re going for the rest of the night, Sydney,” he tosses at me before sauntering off, giving me a spectacular view of his ass as he walks away from us, leaving me dumbfounded as my eyes cross and suddenly there’s two of him.
“What an ass,” Ally says and then turns to me. “Do you know him?”
“Am I supposed to? He sure as hell knew who I was.”
“Maybe he just knows who
