Page 64 of The Boy I Hate

He scrunched up his nose and took a large gulp of his drink. “I was hoping you’d forgottenaboutthat.”

She laughed. “I have a memory like an elephant. You’re pretty muchscrewed.”

He bit his lower lip and looked down to his feet. “I was afraidofthat.”

She ginned at him, then lifted her shoulders in a “Sorry to tell ya” motion, as the bartender set her drink down before her. Devon was older—maybe by five or six years, but the last time she’d seen him he was a scrawny teenager. One both she and Renee had acrushon.

“You look…” He eyed her up and down. “All grown up,Samantha.”

She took a long sip of her Martini and smiled. “Do you live around here?” she asked, taking the cocktail stick and scraping an olive off with herteeth.

He nodded. “Manhattan,andyou?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m still in LA, though I’m not sure why at the moment. This city isbeautiful.”

He laughed heartily, sounding exactly how she remembered him. Robust and sincere… and possibly a little bit nerdy if that waspossible.

She turned in her seat to take another drink, as another man came to fill the seat between them—but she barely noticed. Because Tristan appeared on the rooftop at that exactmoment.

His eyes locked on hers right away. Possessive, brilliant blue, and caused a physical reaction to form in her belly. He raked his eyes up and down her figure, then began walking down the steps toward her. He looked as though he wanted to ravish her, though she didn’t blame him. She wanted to ravage him as well. Because for every inch Tristan Montgomery lacked in polish, he made up for in pure sex appeal. He wore tight faded jeans, a tight white V-neck t-shirt, and a black blazer that somehow made his shoulders look evenbroader.

“Where in LA do you live?” the man who’d joined them saidtoher.

She turned in her seat to give him her attention. “Sherman Oaks.” She swallowed. “Are youfamiliar?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I was just trying to steal your attention away from whoever stole it.” He grinned. “I’m Mark, by the way. One of thegroomsmen.”

She glanced down to the bar, knowing she was blushing, and downed the rest of her martini. “Samantha,” shereplied.

“Ahhhh… The maid of honor. Renee has told me about you.” He held out his hand, and leaned back againstthebar.

Suddenly, Samantha realized Mark was the one of the men Renee was trying to set her up with. She could see why. He was built, good looking, and had a voice like shredded sandpaper. Husky, sexy… She shookhishand.

“You’re the artist, right?” he asked then, cutting off her train ofthought.

She nodded, catching a glimpse of Tristan out of the corner of her eye. He already had at least three girls around him. One a ballerina that danced in Renee’s company, a brunette who looked harmless enough, and a redheadedhussy.

“I’m a sculptor. Howaboutyou?”

“Firefighter.”

Devon leaned forward again, butting into her new conversation. “I think I remember hearing about that. What type of sculptures doyoudo?”

She cleared her throat, slightly thrown from watching Tristan… But then she turned around, and a sense of calmness overtook her. “Modern—yet recognizable.” She grinned. That was one of the quotes written about her work at the gallery opening. Modern—yet recognizable. She loved it. Because that’s always what she strivedtobe.

“I like that,” Mark stated. “Do you happen to have any images ofyourwork?”

Her brows furrowed, and she opened her clutch to pull out her phone, but quickly remembered. “No, actually—normally I do, but my phone got wet…” But her words trailed away as she saw Tristan watching her again. “All I have with me is the piece in my room that I made for Renee—it’s theirweddinggift.”

Mark took a sip of his beer, almost studying her. “I’d love to see that,later.”

She raised her eyebrows, aware he was asking to come to her room, and she shook her head. But just then the DJ’s voice sounded through the speakers, saving her from giving any sort of reply. He was calling everyone to the dance floor, beckoning them, with his arms above his head, to come closer. Samantha immediately rose from her seat, excusing herself from the two men, and weaved her way through thecrowd.

The DJ was standing in the middle of the dance floor and waited until most everyone had moved closer. “Good evening, ladies and gentleman. As you all may know, we’re here to celebrate the last single days of both Phin and Renee. Untraditionally, they have decided to join their parties together, and share their last night with all of you. Every one of you is special to them, and they want you to get to know one another. So look around, say hello, and find a new best friend. To help you get started, we have a game! I have a couple of assistants walking around handing out pen and paper. Take one. Walk around the room and get to know one another. You’ll need to gather both first and last names, plus the answer to one simple question: how do they know the bride or groom? Easy, right? Though if you’d noticed, there are no clipboards provided. Get creative. Backs—or fronts, make a perfectly acceptablesurface.”

A roar erupted from the crowd, and a guy across the stage ripped his shirt off and pointed to hischest.

The DJ laughed and patted him on the back. “To sweeten the pot, the person with the mostcorrectinformation at the end of the night will win a prize. A two week, all-expenses paid trip to Europe, graciously donated by the groom’sparents.”

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