Page 1 of The Wrong Side of Kai
1
“So, what’s Harrison really like?”
The vodka in my mouth almost ends up on the floor. I gulp it back and turn to face Chyna. She’s perched on the edge of the countertop, surrounded by bottles, swinging her legs back and forth. She has an eyebrow raised high as she fights back a laugh. It’s an abrupt change in topic from our previous pondering over where the other girls might have bought their cute outfits from.
I nonchalantly raise my drink to her, a mix of soda and too much cheap vodka, and shrug. “Above average. He definitely knows what he’s doing.”
Chyna releases that laugh. “I meant his personality.”
“Oh, then kind of boring.”
My eyes flicker back to the living room. I can’t stand her, but Madison Romy does always throw a good party every couple months when her parents leave town for business. Right now, her parents are in Florida, so the Romy house has turned into a social hotspot. A lot of our senior class is here, too many bodies weaving around one another and too many voices yelling out at once. The music is loud, the bass thumping. Only Maddie Romy has a house big enough to host parties like this. The kind of parties where the alcohol never runs out, where no parents ever turn up, where everyone is game for anything. They were fun at first, but now they’re just. . . predictable. And predictable is boring.
I lay eyes on Harrison Boyd. He’s leaning against the far wall, chugging beer as he jokes around with some of the guys from the team. He scratches his temple. Like he always does. He looks up through the crowd and spots me watching him. A smirk toys at his mouth, and he flashes me a knowing wink. We’ve been hooking up for the past two months, so I know exactly what that wink means. It’s become so familiar, so routine. It means we’ll sneak upstairs at some point. It means his lips will find mine.
I smile back at him, deliberately coy, then flick my hair over my shoulder and turn away, focusing back on Chyna. Harrison isn’t the only one who can flirt. “Do I keep playing hard to get?”
“You can keep trying,” Chyna says as she slides off the countertop, “but you’re going to crack as soon as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.” She deepens her voice and leans into me, angling her body against mine. “Hey, Vanessa. It’sme, Harrison. How you doin’, baby?”
I push her off me, trying to muffle my giggles. “Shhh!” Others in the kitchen are shooting us weird looks. It’s not like my fling with Harrison Boyd is a secret, but I still don’t need everyone all up in my business. I slam the rest of my drink then toss my cup into the trash. “I’m gonna go talk to him.” I fiddle with my hair, fluffing up my bouncy curls, then pull out my lip gloss and apply it. I want to look my best for Harrison. We’ve been carefully avoiding one another all night, and yet again,I’mthe one who has to give in and make the first move. It would be nice if he took the initiative every once in a while, but Harrison is a little too cocky to do the chasing.
“Go get it, girl,” Chyna says, cheering me on. “Isaiah is picking us up later, so don’t disappear on me, okay? Oh, and be safe.”
“As always,” I say, then pout my glossed lips and blow her a kiss with my hand. She catches it, pretends to slip it under her dress, then blows me one back. It’s something we’ve always done.
In freshman year, Chyna’s dad got a new job in Cincinnati and the day she left, we blew each other kisses and pretended to hide them so we could hold onto them forever. They dramatically moved away, but then her dad quit that new job three months later, and back home the Tates came. Chyna and I have never stopped blowing kisses to each other since.
I leave the kitchen and make my way over to Harrison. It’s nearing midnight, so I don’t have much time before Chyna’s brother picks us up. Some people are already slumped on the couches, fighting to stay awake, while for everyone else, the party buzz has yet to wear off. I’m feeling upfront, and now it’s time to make my move. Harrison and I always play hard to get, always flirt from a distance, always make out like there’s nothing going on, even when we know that very soon I’ll be tearing off his clothes and he’ll be tearing off mine.
I touch the ends of my hair as I approach Harrison and his friends, adjusting my skirt to keep my hands busy. Hike it up a little higher, revealing more of my legs, but then—
Ow.
I collide against something, then a drink splashes onto me and a cup is crushed between my body and someone else’s. My tunnel vision for Harrison breaks as I regain my full line of sight, the rest of the party comes back into focus, and my eyes shoot up to the person in front of me.
I don’t instantly recognize the guy, which is unusual, because I have a pretty good awareness of everyone in my senior class. He takes a step back from me as he stares down at his jeans, clearly unimpressed by the sight of liquid seeping through the denim.
“Vanessa,” I hear Chyna saying, her voice scolding as though I’m a toddler she’s babysitting. She approaches me from behind, wraps a hand around my elbow, and yanks me back. “Sorry, she’s a little clumsy,” she says sheepishly on my behalf, then she leans in closer to my ear and mumbles, “You’ve got to watch where you’re going, girl.”
The guy lifts his head to look at me. Even though I can fully see his face now, I still don’t recognize him. His blue eyes stand out against the warm bronze of his skin, and his curls are cropped short, shaved at the sides but heavier at the top. He doesn’t go to Westerville North – if he did, he wouldn’t be a stranger to me.
“Yeah, Vanessa,” he says mockingly, and my name carries a certain weight to it, almost like he is amused rather than agitated. He narrows his eyebrows and I can’t help but focus on the one brow that has a slit shaved into it. “Watch out.” His lips twist into a smirk, and then he saunters past Chyna and me before blurring into the crowd in the kitchen.
I sniff at the air, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne before it evaporates, then blink at Chyna. “Whowasthat?”
“Does it matter?” Chyna says. She gestures in the direction of the lounge where I was supposed to be heading. “Are you going to get Harrison or not?”
Right. Harrison.
I take a second to compose myself then set off again. Harrison and his friends are still joking around together, and I elbow my way into the circle, pushing in between Noah Diaz and Anthony Vincent. Harrison’s gaze instantly meets mine.
“Harrison, your booty call is here,” Anthony teases, nudging his shoulder into Harrison’s. Noah only glances down at the ground and swigs his beer. Not too long ago, I was fooling around withhim. But it’s not a big deal. The guys I get with know the score. They know it’s only a fling and they know I come with an expiration date.
“Aw, don’t be jealous, Ant,” I say with a grin, then sling my arm around his shoulder and plant a kiss on his cheek.
“Hey,” Harrison says, clearing his throat. He presses his lips together, feigning disapproval, though I watch his mouth twitch as he tries not to smile. The best part about flings? There’s no jealousy. No trying to control someone else’s behavior. We don’t owe each other anything.
My gaze meets his and I tilt my head to one side, keeping my expression neutral. “Oh. Do you need something?”
