Broken Hill High (Broken Hill High #1)(3)

We park halfway up the street and get out of the car. Music is heard the second we step out into the fresh air and we get walking with grins on our faces. Brooke and I squish our way through the people standing by the front door and push our way inside. There are bodies everywhere with little red cups scattered on every possible surface. It’s exactly what I need for the last Friday night before returning to school.

Brooke’s hand clutches onto mine as we weave our way through the bodies. “Drink?” she calls back to me.

I smile and nod, knowing there’s no way she’ll hear me over the sound of the music.

She continues leading me through the big house until we find the dining table which is filled to the brim with every kind of liquor under the sun. Brooke grabs two red cups from the pile and reaches for the vodka. “Not for me,” I tell her. “Just soda.”

“No way,” she says before going to fill my cup.

I snatch my cup away and go about making my own drink. “I’m the sensible one tonight. I mean, unless your skank ass doesn’t want to get home tonight.”

“Who said anything about going home?” she laughs. “I’m starting senior year with a bang.”

“You mean you’re starting senior year by getting banged.”

A grin rips across her face as she continues filling up her cup before clinking it against mine. “One could only be so lucky,” she tells me moments before a familiar set of squeals is heard behind us.

I twirl around to see Bec and Courtney, two of our best friends, both already drunk off their asses. “You guys made it,” Bec says as she pulls me in for a hug before leaning over to Brooke and doing the same.

“Of course, we made it,” I laugh. “As if we were going to miss this.”

“I know,” Courtney says with a sly grin. “I’ve already snooped around. This place is awesome, but I can’t figure out which is his room.”

“You’re probably wasting your time. I’m sure it would be locked,” I tell her as my eyes start sweeping around the room in search for that one particular footballer who can offer me the juiciness of his good looks.

“Hey,” Courtney says, pointing her finger into my chest. “Don’t kill my vibe like that.”

“Alright, alright,” I laugh. “Keep your panties on.”

I turn back to the table to finish filling my cup when the bottle I’m holding is plucked straight out of my hand. My head snaps up. “Hey, what do you think -” Shit.

I look into the eyes of none other than Nate Ryder standing next to his best friend Parker. He’s the boy I grew up with. The boy who’s no longer a boy, but a man. I mean, he’s drop dead gorgeous in all the right ways. Tall? Check. Muscled? Check. Deep, smoldering eyes that could burn a woman’s underwear right off her body? Check. Not to mention, he’s the school bad boy. The guy you’d never bring home to mommy and daddy.

Our parents have been friends since they were teenagers, so Nate and his younger brother Jesse have been thrown in my face since the day I was born. It wasn’t always so bad. We used to be pretty good friends, up until his balls dropped and being an asshole became his MO. I guess that happened around the same time that I grew boobies and stopped kicking the ball around with him.

The girls hush into silence around me, waiting to see what Nate does as his eyes narrow into slits on me. My heart begins to race and my palms begin to sweat. It’s then I notice not only my friends have grown quiet, but everyone in the room. That’s just what happens when Nate is around, he draws the attention of everyone. He’s just that guy.

It’s always a guessing game with him. Is he going to ignore me? Play some ridiculous prank on me? Hell, maybe his goal is to humiliate me so bad that I don’t bother showing my face on Monday morning.

“You got a problem?” he says with that signature grin that makes me want to throat punch him. His eyes sparkle with the challenge and I find myself shrinking back from him.

I have two options here. I can either call him on his bullshit which would not go well for me as Nate Ryder does not get called out, especially in front of so many people. Or my other option, ignore him like the plague and save myself the embarrassment of whatever he has planned for me.

I’ve never been the one to back down. I’ve got one hell of a backbone, but with Nate, it’s just not worth it. Not wanting to pussy out, but also not wanting to declare a war with the designated bad boy, I send him a glare and cross my arms over my chest, silently letting him know exactly what I’m thinking.

His eyes instantly drop down to my boobs and I resist smirking at him. I’ve got a nice chest, I’m not going to deny it and I can tell by the appreciation in his eyes that he thinks so too, but the way he continues looking up and down my body like I’m a piece of meat has me wanting to launch myself at him, fists and all, but I won’t show a weakness. Not in front of him.

Nate’s eyes come back to mine and his smirk makes him look like the world’s biggest douche bag. He makes a show of reaching across the table for a red cup, making sure his arm grazes across my chest in the process which sends an electric shock straight through me, making me want to throw up, but I won’t. Not here. Not now.

He slowly pours himself a drink before placing the bottle back down on the bench, far out of my reach, just as you’d expect of any other asshole. “You just about done?” I question.

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