Page 36 of Envy

Two guys stand on either side of one girl as she takes turns French kissing them.

A ping-pong table is in the back. The girls are topless. Their breasts bounce harder than the ball every time they swing the paddle.

If this is an Ohio frat party, I can only imagine the type of party Garret throws. Orgies must be an understatement.

“Let’s get a drink,” Amy suggests, pulling me through the throng of people.

Curious glances follow me as Amy pushes through. They all must be from Ohio, because I have yet to see anyone from Kenyan.

Amy reaches the kitchen and grabs two beers from a bucket of ice. She pops the top off with a bottle opener and hands me one while she chugs the other.

A guy with light green eyes looks over. It’s hard not to get lost in their bright depths. I’m not sure if it’s a trick of the light. A guy with brown hair slaps him on the shoulder playfully.

Green Eyes nudges his head in our direction, says something to his friend, and they both head over.

“Do you know them?” Amy asks, taking another sip of her beer.

“No.”

“They’re kind of cute,” she says. “They have to play football.”

I understand why she made that assumption. These guys are not small by any means. They are big—with large hands and wide necks—the type that play football.

“Hey,” Green Eyes says when he reaches me.

His friend watches Amy with interest.

“Hi,” I reply a bit awkwardly.

I tune out Amy and the other guy. We stare at each other for a few seconds.

I’m not sure why he walked over, but all I can think is that he must want something. Or he’s just curious. Recognition wraps around me like a blanket. It’s like I’ve seen him before but neverreallypaid attention.

My focus sharpens on the guy in front of me—his green eyes, the tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose. The way his mouth lifts higher on one side when he grins. He’s not Garret by any means. He doesn’t make my heart hammer in my throat. He doesn’t make me wonder how it would feel if he kissed me. If I was the Darkthorn he called to make him bleed.

This guy is different in every sense. He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t look at me with disgust. He’s looking at me like I’m human—a girl at a college party.

“Your name is Rose, right?”

How does he know my name?

Then his voicedigs the memory out.The diner. The guy with the cowboy hat.

“Yes,” is all I manage to say.

“I’m sorry about the other night. I didn’t get to give you my name since we were so rudely interrupted.”

He holds out his hand, and I take it, almost dropping my beer. If he notices, he doesn’t point it out. His hand is rough but firm.

“I’m Leo. Short for Leonidas.”

“Spartan!” his friend chimes in.

I arch a brow. Leo smiles. “My mom had a thing for the movie300.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I nod. I’ve never watched the movie, but I don’t want to sound clueless.

“Where’s your cowboy hat?” I ask instead.

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