Twisted(39)

And those drinks were all alcoholic.

She didn’t balk when one of the senior guys pressed a bottle into her hand. Why should she? She could tolerate her liquor. She’d been sneaking sips from her mother’s stash since she was ten. Yet another reason her mom had said she was such a bad influence on her little sister.

What kind of example are you setting for Molly? Drinking and slutting around.

At the pang in her chest, she lifted the beer and took a sip. Bad influence. Right. That was her label, so she’d wear it proudly.

“This is incredible,” Stacey said, bumping into her side. “There are so many sexy guys here, oh my gawd, I can’t stand it.”

Jazz giggled, and not from her friend’s statement. Stacey’s glazed eyes and slack mouth gave her a shell-shocked appearance. Of course that also might’ve been from the pills she’d been popping on her way over, claiming they were some kind of muscle relaxant for bad cramps.

“Who’re you planning on nailing tonight?” Jazz asked, leaning her head on Stacey’s shoulder as she took another gulp. This beer didn’t taste like any she’d had before. It had a metallic flavor to it rather than a yeasty one. But if it worked to ease her nerves about putting the moves on Gray—any kind of moves at all—she was down with it.

“Who am I not planning on nailing is a better question.” Stacey patted Jazz’s head like a child’s before she snagged a beer from the same senior who had hooked up Jazz with one a few moments ago. He’d reloaded both hands with a pair of bottles that were already uncapped.

Jazz took another bolstering sip, fearing repercussions, but instead of seeming pissed, he stopped and turned back to give them both a leisurely look. “You two come as a set?” he asked, licking his lips.

Shaking her head, Jazz stumbled back. “N-no, of course not.”

She wasn’t positive what he was asking, though she had a pretty good idea. A girl didn’t land in a handful of foster homes in two years without picking up a thing or two about the dirty, depraved things that people did for fun. And heck, she wasn’t slamming it. If more than one person was your scene, aces. But she only had one guy in mind. Even Toby didn’t garner more of her interest than a passing thought.

Stacey shot her a sharp glance. “Depends what you have in mind, Mike.” Her tone turned flirtatious. “You bring some party favors with you tonight?”

Jazz backed up again, straight into a hard chest. “Hey there. You heading somewhere?”

She looked up at Toby’s smiling face and her stomach tumbled. It wasn’t desire that caused that shaken-marble sensation in her belly, but nausea. “No. I don’t think so.” Was she? How was she supposed to remember?

He chuckled. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

“’Kay.”

The noise was getting to her. The music wasn’t something she was familiar with, all screaming guitars backed by a vocalist who shrieked more than sang. Normally she enjoyed any kind of rock or metal. Not tonight. Her temples were pounding like hammers into wood. She swallowed to wet her dry throat before remembering she still held a bottle in her boneless fingers. She took another swig, letting the off-tasting liquid flow down her throat. Why was her face so hot all of a sudden?

“Jasmine, isn’t it?” He leaned down and ruffled the hair she’d teased into blue spikes at her crown. “You want to go somewhere a bit quieter? Maybe we could talk a little, get to know each other.”

“Okay.” She nodded again and regretted it when her head spun. Jesus, she was becoming a lightweight. Couldn’t even handle one beer. She let out a tipsy giggle, pleased at how Toby steadied her with his iron fingers. God, his strength was hot.

But when he started to head toward the stairs, she planted her boots on the carpeted floor. “Uh uh. Don’t know you. Can’t go upstairs with you ’til you buy me dinner.”

His amused smile made her offer a goofy smile back. At least it felt goofy to try to make her lips work. “Is that so?”

She firmed her wobbly chin. “Yes. My mom taught me that.”

“Your mom sounds like a smart woman.” He flashed her a lethal smile, one she’d heard the girls talking about as a panty-dampener. She couldn’t tell if she was still wearing panties, never mind if they were wet. “How about the basement? Other people are down there, but it’ll be easier to get better acquainted.”

It was getting harder to argue. Maybe she shouldn’t. She wanted so badly to make friends, and here was a chance.

She glanced over her shoulder to tell Stacey she’d be downstairs. Except Stacey wasn’t anywhere in sight. And neither was Mike.