Page 5 of Devilry

“Have fun,” she sings. “And call me if you can’t find anything else.”

“You know I’m allergic to fun.” Meghann snorts, the sister gene guaranteeing a laugh to all my bad jokes. “Megs.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m here if you need me.”

“I know. Now,” her voice picks up, hiding her anguish. “Go get ready. Have fun tonight, and don’t scare off potential new friends.”

Chuckling at how well she knows me, I don’t bother defending myself. “Love you, Megs.”

“Love you, Cole.”

Ending the call, I toss the cell phone onto my bed and begin to sift through the piles of clothing in front of me. I would never admit it to anyone, but I might have a slight apparel obsession. I mean, nobody needs as much clothing as I have, but I just can’t seem to part with any of it.

Finding what I want, I lay it gently across the made up mattress and go on a hunt for the rest of the shit I’ll need. Once my shoes, belt, and socks have been found and neatly placed at the foot of the bed, I head to the bathroom.

After tidying up my short and usually well-manicured beard, I jump in the shower. It takes all of three minutes for me to clean myself up, because if you aren’t having shower sex, there’s really no reason to be in there for any longer.

Forty-five minutes later I’m standing in front of the maître d, waiting to be ushered to what I assume is a nearby function room.

“Sir, could I please have your name?” she asks.

“Cole,” I supply. “Cole Huxley.”

“Thank you, Mr. Huxley.” She slides the black ballpoint pen through my name and lowers the clipboard. “If you could follow the waiter.” She gestures to a young man dressed in a white button-down shirt and black slacks standing beside her. “Peter will take you through to the rest of the party.”

Straightening my tie, I run my hands down my suit jacket and undo the buttons. Looking down, I ensure my dress shirt is tucked in correctly and swiftly slip my hands into my pockets. I follow Peter and get a wonderful view of his firm ass. There’s nothing like a man dressed in well-fitted pants, but seeing as he’s probably just turned eighteen, and that isn’t my style, I don’t let my gaze linger too long.

From what I’ve been told, King University has hired new teaching staff for almost every single department. As one of the most prestigious schools in the country, this is a huge opportunity for anyone who is trying to climb up the career food chain.

Offering only a handful of scholarships to freshmen students every year, the school population mainly consists of snotty, bratty, rich kids, whose parents are either the older versions of their children, or they jumped through hoops to have them attend here.

Pushing the heavy door with his shoulder, Peter steps inside and holds it open for me. “Everyone’s toward the back of the room.”

In a few long strides, I’m closer to the crowd. I met a few important people at the interview, and hope they’re here to see that I showed up. Scanning each set of eyes for someone familiar, I come up blank and decide that parking myself at the bar is always a safe bet.

“Can I have a gin and tonic, please?” I ask. “Preferably Hendrick’s.”

“Not a problem.”

Turning away from the bartender, I look back out to the crowd one more time, appreciating the opulent decor. Silver satin is draped in a perfect design across the length of the high ceilings, looking like waves on a beach overhead. Topped off with large, eye-catching chandeliers and matching table centerpieces, you would almost think it’s a wedding.

“You look lost.” A soft, female voice sounds from beside me. I turn to find a beautiful, tall, brunette leaning against the marble bar top.

Returning, the bartender lays out two napkins and places both our drinks in front of us.

“Thanks.” I tip my head up to him in gratitude before he retreats to serve other guests. I look back at the gorgeous woman, who seems as equally unimpressed about being here as I am. “No, I’m in the right place.”

“Are you new?”

“What gave it away?” I take a much-needed sip of my drink.

“I don’t know, maybe because we’re the only two people staying at the bar.” She holds up her glass. “Or it’s because you look as awkward as I feel.”

“I’m Cole.” I offer her my hand.

She takes it. “I’m Harper.”

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