Page 5 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
Just before the green-eyed monster can seize me, Hercules gallops out of nowhere to walk beside Greenly and Donovan. I inhale sharply and hold my breath. He’s so yummy. Dark pants hug his strong athletic thighs, and a black short-sleeved shirt shows off his hilly chest and biceps. The sight of him always has the ability to take my mind to places it never goes with other boys. Like now. As I again stare into his sexy eyes, I can picture him on top of me, and I’m wondering what it would be like to have him take my virginity. I smile at him tentatively. I think he does the same, but I can’t be sure.
The parade is almost over. Just to show how special they are, Greenly leads Hercules and Donovan to the main lobby. She flashes a bracelet at the doorman, who lets her in. Donovan, with his nose stuck up in the air, does the same and follows behind her. When they’re both inside, they turn toward the glass door and search for Hercules, who has peeled away from them. He’s saying something to the guard, and he and the muscular man are looking at me.
The guard nods, and Hercules walks in through the entrance reserved for the rest of us. I like that about him, and frankly, our brief interaction is enough to satisfy me not only for the rest of the night but forever. Smiling and happy, I step out of line and take a step.
“Paisley Grove?” a husky voice calls.
I whip around. The guard is walking toward me. My head spins so fast that I fight the urge to pass out.
He stops. “You’re in. Follow me.”
For some reason, my feet won't move.Did Hercules just arrange my entrance into the party? And if so, what does that mean for us?
“You should go,” one of the girls who was standing behind me says. I glance at her. I don’t recognize her even though she clearly knows who I am.
I turn my attention back to the guard, who’s waiting for me to walk in the wrong direction—the right direction would be to go back home and slip into bed and be fast asleep before my parents return. But as if my feet and brain are on automatic pilot, I skip the line and head to the gateway that leads to the boy of my dreams.
Chapter Four
Bad Boys
Paisley Grove
Fifteen Minutes Later
The bass that’s playing thumps like a perpetually rising heartbeat. I like the song and wonder who the artist is as I finally find a comfortable nook against the wall, where I can see all the action, and position myself in it. The party is wall-to-wall packed. The lights are low. And there’s a lot going on. Heads bob up and down and this way and that to my right, where people are dancing. Bodies coil around each other provocatively. I wonder if Hercules and Greenly have made their way to the dance floor and are among those dry-humping each other in plain sight. Students I recognize who are not old enough to drink are downing glasses of alcohol. I try to place all the faces I see. I’m not being ignored as much as I thought I would be. People are looking at me, and I wonder if it’s because they’re trying to figure out if I’m me or someone else. Apparently, I don’t look the same tonight. There are a lot of faces I don’t recognize. The house is decorated nicely, though—more contemporary than ours by a mile. Partygoers lounge easily on the massive sectionals and ottomans. Conversation is lively. I don’t know who to speak to or what to do. And still, Hercules is nowhere in sight.
“Wait, PG? No way, Paisley Grove?” O’Brien Klein says, stopping in the middle of passing by. He’s tall and lanky—about six feet, four inches—and obviously tipsy. O’Brien plays basketball for our school. I heard he’s a good athlete but not the best. The scholarship players are the reason our school is number three in the state. He’s not one of them. His father owns a food-manufacturing company, and therefore, his tuition is paid in full. However, I’ve noticed how cocky he can be, strolling through the hallways like he owns the world. He’s never paid me any attention, and I’ve been okay with that.
I raise my hand lazily to say hi. Of all the people here tonight, he’s the only one who has spoken to me, so I can’t blow him off like I want to.
He flashes a slanted smile as his appreciative gaze slips up and down my body. “You look hot, PG. I knew you had it in you.”
“Who’s PG?” I ask, annoyed by the fact that he changed my name into an acronym.
“You’re PG, Paisley Grove,” he says, sounding as if he didn’t detect an ounce of my irritation. “Hey, can I get you a drink?”
I shake my head adamantly. Since I smell alcohol on his breath, I assume he wants to fetch me a cocktail too. “I don’t drink.”
I’ve had a drink at Treasure’s parties, usually no more than one strawberry or cherry margarita. And Treasure was always around just in case I became tipsy and lost even a kernel of inhibition. Tonight, I’m alone. I would never make myself so vulnerable. I don’t want to end up doing anything to embarrass myself or the family. I’ve already broken the rules by lying to my parents.
“Okay,” he says, and I’m surprised he accepted my decision so easily. “But what made you finally come out tonight? You’ve been MIA all year, playing with your computer, right?” His smile is less crafty and more charming, and I study it a bit longer to see if I can discover an ounce of sarcasm in it. So far, I can’t see it.
“Kind of,” I say, deciding to tell the truth.
“You’re smart and pretty. I like that in a girl.”
I didn’t mean for my mouth to fall open.Is O’Brien Klein, of all people, trying to hit on me?
He steps closer, and my eyes grow wide with surprise. “Hey, how come we’ve never gone out, grabbed some coffee or something? You drink coffee, don’t you?”
I nod. You can’t keep the hours I keep, writing programs, and not drink coffee—strong coffee.But now what do I say?I want to keep our conversation going. If he hadn’t said anything to me, I’d still be standing here, feeling awkward and all alone.
“So where are you going to college?” I ask.
He presses his lips into a tight smile. “I don’t know. I’m taking the year off to travel. Wanna come?” His eyebrows flit upward as he takes notice of the lower half of my body. I’m starting to think there’s a double entendre in his question. Once again, he’s rendered me speechless.
“Congratulations, though, on your scholarship. I heard about it,” he says.
