Dylan reaches for the notebook, but I slap his hand away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jesse walk past our table. As if he senses my stare, he turns his head to look at me and tosses a wink in my direction before turning back around. I roll my eyes. I don’t know why I told him Dylan was my boyfriend. I guess I just wanted him to know that I wasn’t lusting after him like the rest of the females in a two-hundred-mile radius.
That’s not entirely true, though, is it? He’s a fine specimen, I won’t deny that. But he’s exactly the type of guy I should avoid.
“Who’s that?” Dylan asks, looking him up and down, seemingly unimpressed.
“That is Jesse Shepherd.” I recognized him right away. He looks older than I remember. Taller and more muscular, with cheekbones sharper than razorblades. I used to see him around town before he went away for college. We’ve even spoken before, but clearly, I didn’t make much of an impression on him.
There was a brief moment that I thought he might be different from the rest of the jocks he hung around. Something about him didn’t seem to fit. He acted the part. He definitely looked the part with his lacrosse jacket over broad shoulders and a tapered waist. Cocky smile firmly in place. But he had an edge to him. His eyes held a hardness that made me wonder if there was more lurking beneath that pretty exterior. But then he opened his mouth, ripping that theory to shreds.
“Friend of yours?” Dylan asks, watching him with an unreadable expression.
“God, no,” I say, peeling my gaze from him. “So, what’s new with you?”
“The Attic shut down a few months back, so we’ve been trying to find another place to play.”
“No way.” Dylan and his band played there every single week. The Attic was their home. It was the place locals and tourists alike went to drink and listen to live music. “How the hell did that happen?” That place was always packed.
“Not sure. We showed up to play one night and the parking lot was empty. All the lights were off and the doors were locked.”
“That’s messed up.”
“We’ll find something.”
I nod, knowing they will. Dylan is the real deal.
“For now, it’s pizza joints and random events.” He leans back in his chair, bringing his hands behind his head, taking a deep breath. “What’s next in the life of Albert?” Albert. I roll my eyes at the nickname. He used to call me Al for short, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, it somehow morphed into Albert. Never mind the fact that it has the same number of syllables as Allie.
I look over to the help wanted sign hanging on the wall, biting on my lower lip. “A job, for starters.”
* * *
“WE DON’T HAVE TO STAY long if you’re not into it,” Halston promises as she leads us through a crowded living room. It smells like sweat, Victoria’s Secret body spray, and desperation in here.
“I’m fine.” College parties aren’t my scene, but Halston loves this shit, and since she’s one of the two real friends I have in River’s Edge, I’ll try my best to conceal my resting bitch face and enjoy it.
“Maybe tonight you’ll find the perfect candidate.” She wiggles her brows. She’s made it her mission in life to get me laid. At eighteen years old, I’m the only virgin I know. I’m not saving myself for the perfect guy, but one I could actually stand to be around would be nice.
I roll my eyes. “Doubtful. If I were going to hook up, it wouldn’t be with anyone who’d hang out here.”
“That’s exactly why this is the perfect place to find a one-night stand to practice on,” she argues. “You won’t fall for any of these boys.”
Well, there is that.
Reaching back for my hand, Halston pulls me through the room where the main party seems to be taking place. I catch myself bobbing my head to some catchy pop song—“Youngblood,” I think—and roll my eyes at myself. Dad would never let me live this down if he were here. While I get my impeccable taste in music from him, I’ve also been known to enjoy a top forty song or two. So sue me.
I shake off the sadness that tries to creep in at the thought of my dad. He wouldn’t want that. He was always after me to get some friends my age. He wanted me to have the college experience, which brings me to another reason I’m here, going against my loner tendencies.
“So. Many. Boys!” Halston gives an excited squeal and I laugh, shaking my head. If boy crazy were in the dictionary, a picture of Halston would sit next to the definition. She’s the complete opposite of me, with her lean body and legs for days. Dark hair curled to perfection, a creamy complexion with a perfectly-placed beauty mark on her cheek. She could have any guy in here, and she knows it.
We scan the crowd of drunken frat boys until she sets her sights on a guy with too-tight khakis and no shirt standing next to the keg with a circle of admiring females around him.
“I’m parched,” she states with a gleam in her eyes, and then she’s tugging at my wrist once again.
“For the boy or the beer?” I yell over the noise.
“Both. Definitely both.”