Page 4 of We Were Something
“To expensive, top-shelf quality,” I say, my lips turning up at the sides.
He takes a step closer to me, clinking his glass against mine before I take a long, refreshing sip. He watches me for just a moment before taking his own swig.
I don’t know what it is about this man and this…I don’t know…strangely flirtatious interaction, but it has me hoping this night is salvageable. I wasn’t looking for a hookup when I first got here—too many old friends from the past and none of them my type—but this guy…
He seems different than the boys I normally meet.
Somehow.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I say, realizing I suddenly want to know who he is more than anything else.
“Logan.” His strong hand reaches out toward me. “Nice to meet you.”
Shifting my drink to the other hand, I grin as I slip my palm against his, enjoying the firm grip and warmth of him pressed against my skin.
“And you as well. I’m—”
“Paige.”
One of my eyebrows rises, and I say the only thing that comes to mind. “I’m sure I would remember if we’d met before.”
He chuckles and shakes his head then eyes me quickly up and down. “Not officially. I’m sitting at a table with some of your friends. Ben and Remmy? You sat down with us for a little bit earlier.”
My nose scrunches up without my permission. I might be on better terms with my friend Wyatt’s older brother and his fiancée—enough to be curious about the gargantuan bling I saw on her left ring finger when she arrived earlier tonight—but that doesn’t mean I’d go so far as to call them friends.
There’s a bit of bad blood between myself and Remmy, a history. It’s hard to like someone when you feel like they’re the worst thing to ever happen to your best friend. But thankfully, she’s moved on, leaving Lennon and Lucas alone, so it’s time I start to move on as well, I guess.
The fact that she’s engaged to theotherCalloway, though…it still blows my mind. I never could have imagined something like that happening in a million years. But having seen them together a few times now, it makes sense, in some weird way.
“I wouldn’t call usfriends,” I tell him, trying to find the most honest yet diplomatic way to frame it. “There’s just a lot of…history,” I answer. “Hermosa Beach is nothing if not a town full of baggage.”
That’s when he gives me a grin I can feel down into my toes. “Now, isn’t that the truth.”
“Sounds like you have your own experience to speak from.”
He bobs his head and takes a long sip of his drink. “I guess you could say that.”
We stand in silence for a moment longer, eyeing each other flirtatiously before I take a step closer to him, my drink in hand.
Maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through my system, or maybe it’s just the way his eyes are roving over me in a way I’m not familiar with—like he wants to look but feels like he shouldn’t. Regardless, I feel emboldened and can think of nothing other than finding a way to spend more time gazing into his eyes.
Hopefully from beneath him.
Or on top.
I’m a well-rounded kind of girl.
“So,” I say, my eyes dropping to his mouth, his lips plump and beautiful. “What bringsyouhere tonight, Logan? Are you someone’s arm candy, or are you an alum as well?”
“I’m an alum,” he tells me. Then he chuckles and shakes his head, though he continues to watch me. “Quite a few years before you, I’m assuming.”
I bite my lip, enjoying the way he can’t seem to stop watching me. The way his eyes drink in my every curve and line, almost like he can’t help himself.
I’m not self-absorbed enough to assume I meet the tastes ofeveryperson on the planet, but the way I look is definitely the right mixture to garner the attention of many men and quite a few women. And men like to look at me.
My older sister took after my father—tall, lanky, model features—but I’m the spitting image of my mother back when she was in her youth. Barely hitting 5’1” on a good day, wide smile, big brown eyes, thick hair that hasn’t seen its true natural color since I was in junior high. I may be short in stature, but I have the right amount of curves on this petite figure to strike men in just the right spot.
Though if you were to ask her, my mother would likely say just about every feature on my body is wrong.
