Page 30 of Good Vibes Only
7
McKayla
“Maybe I like you?”
With those words and one flash of his perfect smile, Brett twisted my stomach into knots—no matter how much I wished I’d feltnothinginstead. Because I knew better than to believe him.
You don’t like me, you ass,I thought as I danced the night away with Sofia and the other WAGs.
And I knew it, too, becausehourshad passed since he’d said those words and declared his intent to talk to me later.
And had he found me? Had he even looked for me at all?
Nope.
It’s not like he had to look far, either—sure, his house is big, but it’s notthatbig. I saw him all night, joking around with his friends, flirting with the gaggle of fake-as-hell girls from Instagram, who couldn’t keep their hands off him and kept laughingwaytoo hard at every little thing that came out of his mouth …
Believe me. I wasn’t surprised. It was par for the course for guys like him. This hot-and-cold routine was straight out of the playbook that all fuckboys live by. And yet it’s the oldest trick in their book for a reason: because as much as we hate it and are loathe to admit it,it works.
Just not on me.
Because I knowallabout his type.
Okay, so I was wrong about him being a trust fund kid—but really, being apro athleteisn’t much different, if you really think about it.
What I did find a little surprising, however, was howannoyedI felt that he hadn’t come after me. Because why even lie about liking me and wanting to talk to me if you weren’t going to make an effort to follow through? Seriously, what was the point?
I already know you’re full of shit, dude! You’re not fooling anybody!
And yet still, as the night got later and the music louder and the crowd drunker, I found myself always glancing in his direction, hoping he would finally notice me and our eyes would lock from across the room, and he’d flash his pretty smile before he kicked it into gear tofinallycome talk to me and make his move …
Sofia caught me slyly scanning the room for a certain someone while we danced. I could tell by the look in her eye she knew exactly who I was looking for.
“Admit it already!” she shouted in my ear so I could hear her over the music. “You like him!”
I shouted back. “Do not!”
The way she fluttered and rolled her eyes meant,Liar. I don’t believe you.
The way I rolled my eyes in response meant,Sorry, but if I were to shout out all the reasons I don’t like Brett, I’d rupture your eardrum.
Not sure if she got all that. But who cares.
BecauseIknow it’s true.
Why would I like Brett? Sure, he’s handsome as hell, and any girl would love to get her hands all over his chiseled, rippling muscles. But good looks and a hot bod can only get a man so far. He was the source of all my problems and frustrations. Him and that stupid brewery, and their constant banging and hammering and drilling …
Nah. I didn’t like him. In fact, I couldn’t stand him.
That’s what I was thinking, anyway, until I felt a big, warm presence smoothly slide behind me a split second later. The green, oaky scent of his cologne—I’d smelled it on him earlier—hit my senses. Excitement rushed through me, and my eager heart jumped into my throat.
Finally,I thought.
Notbecause I liked him.
But … maybe because I wantedhimto likeme?
I don’t know. Maybe something’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m not nearly as immune to his games as I thought I was. Maybe I’m damaged?
