“And that’s why we’re going to be the best of friends,” she announces as she walks over to me. Her dress is fire-engine red, and it also shimmers under the light as she moves. “Don’t worry about a thing, Ara. You will have the most amazing school year. We’re seniors. We’re meant to cause a little bit of trouble.”
And that’s what worries me.
By the time we get to the party, it’s in full swing. There are students filling every available space. The living room has a table set up where guys are playing beer pong, and we move through the house into the kitchen where we find bottles of alcohol strewn along the countertop. Some labels I recognize, others I don’t.
Marleigh grabs two Solo cups, and we fill them with beer from a keg near the sink. The bubbly liquid is bitter tasting, but I sip it down anyway. Marleigh slips her hand in mine, our fingers laced as she pulls me out into the backyard which looks like it could host a music concert it’s so big. I’m not sure how many acres of land this is, but it’s much more than I’m used to coming from the city.
A hot tub filled with almost-naked bodies is positioned over to the right of the swimming pool, which looks rather inviting with blue lights illuminating it. Girls and guys surround it, sitting on loungers and bean bags while holding drinks in their hands.
There are large vibrating speakers positioned around the outdoor area, giving off the feel of surround sound. The bass rumbles through me; a dance song I don’t recognize blares at the guests.
“There he is,” Marleigh hisses in my ear, pointing at the bar beside the pool. The guy in question has two full sleeves of ink. His dark hair looks black from here, and he’s wearing a pair of black, torn jeans which hang from his tapered hips. Lifting my eyes, I trace them along his toned abs, up to broad shoulders, and find a smile that’s bright and welcoming.
“Who’s that?” I gesture with my chin toward the guy. His dark hair and eyes with olive skin make him look Mediterranean. Rugged bad boy. That’s what he reminds me of. The complete opposite of Mr. Donati.
“Ahren,” she says right in my ear. “Come, we’ll go and say hello.” Before I have time to refuse her, she drags me along, pulling me all the way down to the garden until we reach him. He’s standing with a few other guys, but the moment he notices us, he practically ignores his friends and focuses on Marleigh and me.
“Beautiful women at the party. I like it,” he says. His voice is a husky tone, which rumbles right through me as deeply as the music does.
“Hi, Ahren,” Marleigh greets. Her smile is electric. “How are you?”
“Leigh. I’m good, behaving badly, just like everyone expects me to. Always nice to see you.” He tips his head in welcome, then roves his gaze over to me. “And your friend is …?”
“This is Arabella,” Marleigh introduces me. “She’s new to Black Mountain,” she excitedly informs him.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, offering me his hand, which I accept. His grip is firm, commanding. I can’t deny he’s gorgeous, and the cocky smirk that graces his lips makes my stomach flutter wildly.
“Nice to meet you too. Quite the party you have here.”
“Not me. I’m merely a VIP guest. This is all Alistor’s doing. He likes to go all out and then some.” He waves his hand around, a smile on his lips, and I realize I’m staring when he glances at me once more. Marleigh was right. He could be my type. Perhaps I should give this a chance. “Ah, well, I didn’t think you’d be here,” Ahren says, his gaze flitting over my shoulder at the person behind us.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The scent of cologne hits me right in the nose—masculine and spice. It’s familiar. I’ve gotten lost in it each time I’ve walked into history class. The heat of him is right behind me, and as I twist on my heel, I find him glaring down at me.
“Mr. Donati.” I voice his name in a whisper that causes me to cringe inwardly. “You’re …” I turn to Ahren, then to Marleigh who’s grinning at me like a fool. She knew he’d be here? No, she couldn’t have. She would’ve told me. But then again, why would she? I didn’t tell her I’ve been thinking about this man nonstop since I walked right into his solid chest on my first day of school.
“It’s Elian,” he finally says, breaking through my inward hysterical panic. “We’re not at school, and I always try to ensure that I keep my personal and professional life separate.” Even though he tells us this, there’s still an air of authority wafting from him. I doubt this man knows how to let his hair down.
He’s dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt, which has a few buttons undone at the top, showing off the smooth, tanned skin underneath. With that small glimpse of flesh, I can’t stop staring at the way he looks less put together from the way he normally does in class.
“Be careful tonight, girls,” he warns us. “And don’t overdo those.” His stare locks on the Solo cup in my hands, which still has beer in it.
“Oh, come on, Eli,” Ahren says from behind me. “It’s a party. Don’t be a spoil sport. They can have one or two drinks.” I can practically feel
