Like they belonged.
I stepped back and for a few moments I stared at the photos and then turned away with a heavy sigh. The clock on the nightstand told me that it was way too early in the evening to call it a night, and despite unloading everything, I wasn’t tired. My mind wandered to Nick and what he had said yesterday about the bar he worked at. When I drove out to get groceries last night, I had seen it.
Biting down on my lip, I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. Why not go out and have a drink? And a drink could lead somewhere quite fun. I was a hundred percent full supporter of no-strings-attached hookups. However, I never understood, and never would, the double standard that existed. It was okay for the guys to take charge of their pleasure, but not women?
Not in my world.
If Nick happened to be there and he happened to be as flirty as he was yesterday, then tonight . . . well tonight could become very interesting.
I was so going to take Nick home with me tonight and do all kinds of bad things to him—naked and fun things that should burn my ears right off my head. Or at least cause embarrassment since I was visualizing said things in a public spot.
I wasn’t.
Not in the very least.
A case of instalust had hit me hard. I was attracted to this guy on a pure primal level, and I was woman enough to admit that.
Moss-colored eyes met mine once more. Thick lashes lowered, shielding those extraordinary light green peepers. God, I’ve always had a thing for guys with dark hair and light eyes. Such a startling contrast that did very unhealthy things to all my interesting pulse points. I’d never really seen someone with his eye color. They were definitely green, but whenever he stepped out from under the bright lights over the bar and into the shadows, the color seemed to shift to an aqua blue.
Those eyes gave him some great bonus points.
“I’m way too curious, so I’ve got to ask. What in the world brings you to Plymouth Meeting, Steph?”
At the sound of the familiar voice, I twisted around on the bar stool and looked up, finding myself staring into the baby blues that belonged to Cameron Hamilton. When I first walked into Mona’s, I was shocked to see a few people I’d gone to college with. I was still stunned over the fact that Cam and crew were here, several hours away from their normal stomping ground, which had been Shepherd University.
I’d said hello and quickly skedaddled my butt over to the bar even though I could tell they had a ton of questions, but honestly, seeing them had knocked me off guard. I wasn’t expecting to find anyone I knew and I sure as hell wasn’t expecting it to be not one but two guys whom I’d . . . well, been real close to at one point in time.
Talk about a wee bit awkward, considering I never really knew where I stood when it came to Cam and Jase Winstead’s girlfriends. I’d discovered, a long time ago, that a lot of girls inherently weren’t fond of other females their boyfriends had been involved with, no matter the seriousness of the prior relationship or lack thereof. Not every girl was like that, but most . . . yeah, most were.
Which was something I found . . . well, really fucking stupid.
Most girls were some guy’s ex at some point in their life. So they were just hating on themselves.
So I tried to stay out of their paths when we were all at Shepherd, and that worked right up until the night I’d found Teresa—Jase’s girlfriend and Cam’s little sister—screaming hysterically after she found the body of her dorm mate. Ever since then, even though Jase and I hung out casually for a little while, Teresa had been bound and determined to be my friend. It did weird me out, and reminded me of a girl I had become friends with my junior year at Shepherd—Lauren Leonard.
Ugh. Just thinking her name made me want to throw my drink in someone’s face. She had pretended to be friends with me when she really just hated my guts because the guy she dated had kissed me a year before they even met.
And it hadn’t even been that remarkable of a kiss, surely not worth all the drama Lauren brought to my doorstep.
“I could ask you the same question,” I said finally, picking up my glass.
An easy grin appeared as Cam leaned against the bar, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “You know Calla Fritz, right?”
“I know of her.” I glanced over to where the pretty blond girl stood with her arm around the waist of a guy that had military written all over him. I would know. My dad had that look. The look that screamed, I know how to break every bone in your body, but I have a strong moral code that prevents me from doing that . . . unless you threaten one of my own. The guy with russet, wavy hair was really rocking said look.