Page 12 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

“You look so different, it was hard to believe it was even you at first,” he said. “I feel like saying that you look better is an insult to how you usually look, but I’ll admit the red hair is sexy as hell, and your legs and your…” His gaze dipped to my cleavage, and I fought the urge to cover it up. Maybe I should’ve brought, like, a tiny scarf. Just a little something. “If you’re asking if guys will notice you at this party, the answer is yes. Trust me on that.”

There was an edge to his voice I hadn’t heard before and it sent an unexpected dart of heat through me. I tried to swallow, but it wasn’t really working, so I settled for nodding.Relax. He’s just complimenting your new look, and you desperately needed the reassurance—that’s it.

Beck turned up the music, and we didn’t talk much on the way to the Quad. When we got there, he squeezed into a narrow gap at the end of a packed parking lot that I wasn’t even sure was legal, unhooked his seatbelt, and turned to me. “If you change your mind about this, or decide you’re over the party at any time, just let me know. And I know you want to let loose, but there are guys out there who’ll try to take advantage. That’s why, with every drink you have, the closer I’ll be. Try not to pukeonme, okay?”

“Ew. I know the other night I said that was the goal, but stop me before I get quite that far. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Beck met me at the back of the Land Rover and we wove in and out of cars toward the large squat building with a line of people streaming into it. The bass from the music boomed out, so loud the beats echoed under my skin. I wanted so badly not to be nervous—to believe my new look was all it took to take on the party crowd—but my frayed nerves weren’t convinced. If anything, they were unraveling faster and faster with each step closer to the front door.

An icy breeze hit me and I shivered—another con for wearing so little clothing.

Beck placed his hand on the small of my back, the contact calming my nerves and the heat from his touch taking the edge off the cold. With the shoes on, I was three inches taller than usual, but he still had several inches on me. The added height gave me a closer view of the blond scruff dusting his strong jawline, though.

By the time we reached the door, even the fact that Beck’s hand remained on my back didn’t stop my stomach from tying itself in knots again. My thoughts turned to how relaxing a night on the couch in my comfy clothes would have been. A movie or a book required no panicking about what to do or say. No wondering how far I’d bend before accidentally flashing someone.

“Your college party experience awaits,” Beck said. Then he studied me, no doubt seeing the worry etched across my features. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

I took a deep breath, the frigid air burning my throat on the way down, then squared my shoulders. “Nope. I’m doing this. Just, uh, stay close. Okay?”

“Sure thing.”

The music grew even louder as we stepped inside, and the buzz of simultaneous conversations mixed in. People crowded the center of the space, dancing to the beat. Pairs, large groups, smaller groups, the wallflowers—they were all here, spread throughout the room.

“Lyla?”

I pulled my attention off the gyrating bodies and turned to Beck, who was gesturing me in the other direction. My ankle wobbled slightly, and I inwardly cursed the heels. Careful of where I stepped, I followed Beck’s familiar hat through the crowd. There was a large table in the corner covered in alcohol.

Beck put his hand on my back again, and leaned in close, talking loud to be heard over the music. “You ever have beer before?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty gross, but I’ve been assured it’s an acquired taste.”

“Hang tight. We’ll start with something that tastes better and will get you buzzed fast, and then we’ll work up to the keg stand.”

The smile, combined with the hand on my back and a whiff of his cologne sent a flutter through my stomach.

What the what? First the strange reaction in the car, then thinking about his eyes and his scruff, and now I’m getting butterflies? Don’t go doing that to me, body.

“Sounds good.” Clearly, my senses were in overdrive or something. As I watched Beck move over to the table, I tried to think if he’d ever touched me so often before.

No, because we’re usually sitting on his couch eating ice cream and watching movies. And before that we mostly studied. But he usually opens doors for me when we go places.Maybe I’d just always worn too many clothes to notice his hand on my back. Either way, I knew better than to get flutters over Beck Davenport. The guy had longer relationships with cereal boxes than girls, and I wouldn’t even be on his radar in that area, looking for only temporary fun or not. We were just two chemistry nerds who’d built a friendship out of our mutual love of effortless hangouts involving movies and food—he was a closet nerd, whereas I let my love of science hang out there for the world to see.

But not tonight.

“Hey,” a guy near me said, and I looked to my right and then my left. There wasn’t anyone else super close by, and the few who were near us were involved in other conversations.

“Me?” I asked, still not quite trusting he was talking to me.

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Yeah, you. I’m CJ. I saw you across the room and had to come and say hi.”

“Oh. Thanks. Cool. Lyla. That’s my name.”

He seemed to be waiting for something else, and I kicked myself for not looking up good party conversation starters. Finding it hard to meet his steady gaze, I glanced down and noticed some gray and white cat hair on my shirt. I wiped at it. “Sorry. My cat, Einstein, always sheds. Not that I’m a crazy cat lady or anything. I’ve just got the one. I mean, I had two when I was in junior high, but they both died. Not at the same time, or that would’ve been awful. It was still pretty sad. But now I have Einstein, and he’s super mellow, not to mention, like, the cutest cat ever.”

CJ nodded awkwardly, and I knew I should’ve stuck with keeping my mouth shut. After another weird beat where he just blinked at me, he walked away. Beck was standing off to the side, two red plastic cups in hand.

“Dead cats? You said you had a hard time talking to guys, but shit, Debbie Downer, I had no idea.”

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