“I’ll be right back,” I mumble to whoever’s listening and excuse myself from the hot tub.
I push up and swing a leg over to jump out. A hiss sounds from behind me, like someone sucking air through his teeth. I turn and find Jonah with an expression that looks like pain mixed with something new I can’t name. Whatever it is makes my stomach plummet and land low. Really low. I grab my towel and head for the bathroom.
Locked inside, I flip the toilet seat closed and sit. What was that? I fan my flaming cheeks. What that was, was hot. And it had nothing to do with the water temperature. It’s happening more often: our eyes lock on each other, and the world around us fades away. But why? I can’t explain it, only that he must feel some attraction or . . . God, what is wrong with me?
I step to the mirror and let down my hair, running my fingers through the tangles. This is crazy. I have a major crush on a UFL fighter who probably looks at me and sees nothing more than a score: a na?ve girl who will fall for his charm and meet some need on a physical level. If that’s true, why hasn’t he made a move? What would I do if he did? My lips curl and my stomach flips.
Fed up with staring at my goofy grin, I wrap my towel around my waist to head back to the party. I duck my chin to my chest as I push through the door, hoping to shake my love-sick-puppy smile before I face Jonah.
“Raven, right?”
I jump at the sound of a female voice. The blond girl who came with Blake is standing just outside the bathroom. Her arms are crossed at her chest as she glares in my direction.
My smile fades. “Yes?”
She looks me up and down as if I’m covered in cockroaches. Her lips peel back in disgust. This feels so much like high school. I curl into myself.
“I’m just trying to figure out what Jonah would want with a little grease monkey like you.” Her icy stare continues to scrutinize me from bare feet to bikini top. “What are you? Eighteen? Do you really think a silly little girl like you could satisfy a man like him?”
I jerk from the truth in her statement.
The words he’s just a friend itch at the back of my throat. Something tells me we’re more than that, but uncertainty seals my lips.
But she’s right. I’m inexperienced and young. Men want women who are confident and know how to please them. My shoulders sink as I consider all the ways I’m not good enough for Jonah. Maybe she’s right and I’ve been misreading things.
“Jonah and I . . . We’re just friends. You want him, he’s yours.” My voice is dull, and my heart sinks like a lead balloon.
I push past her with every intention of getting as far away as I can before I do something stupid, like cry. A firm grip on my elbow halts my getaway. In shock, I lean away from the blonde, who is sneering inches away from my face.
“Want him?” She flashes a heartless smile that tells me she’s going to enjoy whatever she’s about to say. “I’ve had him. He fucked my brains out last week.”
I turn my face away, trying to escape the vulgarity of her words.
“Yeah, that’s right. And he screamed my name, begging me for more.” She leans in so close I can smell the liquor on her breath. “He said I had the sweetest * he’s ever tasted.”
My eyes burn, tears threatening to spill.
“Keep your filthy fucking hands off of him. He doesn’t want you. You’re nothing but a worthless piece of white trash, and he—”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
An enraged male voice breaks her concentration. In unison, we turn toward the source.
Oh, crud.
“Jonah.” His name escapes on a whisper.
His jaw is tense and ticking, his fists balled at his sides. The fierceness in his stare is terrifying, and it’s not directed at me.
“Get the hell out of my house,” he spits out through clenched teeth while glaring at Candy.
“Jonah, honey, I don’t know what you thought you heard.” Like a sneaky little viper, she tries to backpedal. “We were just having a little girl talk.” She releases her hold on me and brushes my hair over my shoulder.
Jonah’s eyes dart to mine then move back to glare at Candy. “Out. Now.” His voice trembles with rage.
Candy lifts her head and squares her shoulders. Lithely, she moves past Jonah, stopping to look him in the eye. “You’re really going to pass this up?” She looks down at me from over her shoulder. “For that?”
Her reference to me being an object rather than a person has me studying the concrete at my feet.
Jonah grumbles a reply I can’t make out. Whatever he said makes Candy finch before she struts away.
My heart is beating out of my chest. I peer at Jonah from behind my hair. His head falls forward, hands resting on his hips. I hear the sound of him breathing deep and blowing air from his mouth as if he were trying to calm down.
He looks up at me, concern etched on his face. “You okay?”
“Yes.” I’m unable to control the quiver in my voice.