Page 39 of Unsteady

I might look slightly overdressed in a sea of denim and leather, but I look a thousand times hotter than I actually feel, not to mention that the dress makes it much easier to get in and out of this party with what I came for—a quick distraction.

Which my traitorous mind is now thinking should be the hotshot who has appeared at my side like a wish granted.

“Because, it’s almost one in the morning and you don’t even look buzzed.”

“How do I look then, hotshot?” I ask, smirking despite my earlier self-promises to forget about the boy with the blues.

“Like you’re in pain,” he snaps out, more fire in him now that he’s had in our previous interactions. The snippiness of his statements and the gleam in his eyes, only make me suddenly warmer, flushing red across my pale skin.

Like you’re in pain.

Jesus Christ.

Is that how it goes then? All the depth of truth I’ve seen from his eyes and his obvious panic is only reflected back at me—where I saw through him so easily, he can now see through me, like some twisted, broken mirror.

“Way to ruin a party mood,” I manage to grit out beneath a sudden suffocating wave of nausea before turning to knock at the door again, praying for an escape from the torment of his warm chocolate eyes.

“You weren’t in a party mood.”

“No?” I snap, eyes squinting towards him over my shoulder, tossing my ponytail with the swiftness of my movement. “Why do you think—”

The door bursts open, a tipsy Rora stumbles out, giggling and hiccupping like a drunken little fairy. She spots us both, her eyes going wide as she finishes fixing the strapless striped top to her matching shorts set, before pulling at her tall pale cream boots that give her an extra few inches over me she doesn’t truly need.

Grabbing me around the shoulders, she leans in and offers her hand to Rhys who takes it gently.

“I’m Rora.” She smirks, continuing to side-eye me and wiggle her eyebrows.

“Rhys,” he offers. His smile towards her is dazzling, and I see tipsy, overly romantic Rora looking a little star struck.

“Rora.” I smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. “Can you give us a minute? I’ll come down and meet you, and we can go.”

“I thought you and Sean—”

My hand slaps over her freshly re-glossed lips, before pulling it swiftly away and wiping the sticky residue on my bare legs. Rora frowns dramatically at me, her cheeks burning as she takes in my face while I dutifully ignore the heat of Rhys’ gaze on my skin.

“Tell Sean I changed my mind. Since your English class buddy is hanging around, maybe you can talk to him.”

Rora’s face only flushes further as she giggles and backs up to hold onto the wall—but it isn’t a wall she’s grabbed, it’s a boy. One I also recognize.

The tall, lean and muscular body comes to a halt, letting Aurora completely mold to him as she stumbles and holds onto him. He settles his hands on her hips to catch her stumbling, his boyish face glinting with stars in his eyes like a perfect prize just fell into his lap—and, in all fairness, it kind of did.

“Sorry,” Rora breathes out, her face tilting up towards him. Her curls cascade down her back, the flower clips I spent an hour meticulously putting in sliding down the strands, barely keeping them half up now.

The man holding her bursts another wide smile, his famous one that every girl at this party—hell, nearly every girl on campus—has succumbed to before. It’s not hard to guess why—a tall, muscular hockey god himself, yes—but Matt Fredderic looks like pure gold. A handsome face, somehow angular and soft at the same time, with carved smile lines like a supermodel version of a young Heath Ledger.

It definitely doesn’t help that he’s dressed like he walked off some Greek style vacation ad, the white linen short sleeve button-up offsetting his golden skin and unbuttoned loosely at the top, a chain and medallion of gold glinting in the dim hall light.

“You’re good, princess.” His mouth curves, hands touching the ends of her curls that draw all the way down her back. “Need some help?”

“Nope,” I snap out, grabbing Rora’s hand and yanking her away from trouble with a capital T. I know for a fact that if she were sober, her entire body would’ve jerked away from this man the second she accidentally brushed him. “No funny business, sleeping beauty—now, go. I’ll come find you.”

Rora grumbles at the nickname, but releases where she’s still holding the playboy behind her on his wrist and slinks down the stairs, albeit unsteadily. Matt watches her with that same little glimmer in his eyes.

“Absolutely not,” both Rhys and I say quickly and at exactly the same time.

“I didn’t do anything!” he barks, hands raising high in surrender. “I was only up here looking for your dumbass.” He points an accusatory finger at Rhys. “Text Reiner back, he doesn’t believe me that I don’t have you drunk off your ass.”

“I’ll tell him we’ll be home soon.”

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