Cruel Prince (Royal Hearts Academy, #1)(45)

He pops the collar of his shirt. “I mean, I do have a dope sense of fashion.” He slings an arm around my shoulders and another one around Sawyer’s, leading us to the Mediterranean-style villa that’s bumping house music. “But we can talk more about that later. First, let me give you two the run down. Some skeevy dudes are here, so always make and pour your own drinks. If you set it down, leave it and make another one. Christian stocks enough booze to keep a third world country drunk for months.”

I’m not a drinker, but good to know.

“People fuck on the second floor. If a bedroom door is closed, take it somewhere else or wait your turn for a free one.” He pauses. “Also, don’t drink the punch.”

Sawyer swivels her head to look at him. “Because it’s spiked?”

“No,” Oakley answers with a grin. “Because Cole once got so drunk, he thought it was a urinal.”

“Gross,” Sawyer says, echoing my thoughts.

He laughs to himself as we approach the entrance. “Nah. He kept calling it the golden nectar of the gods and daring people to take a sip. It was funny as fuck…until a few chicks fell for it and asked why it was warm and tasted funny.” His eyebrows dance. “Then it was hysterical.”

Sawyer and I exchange another appalled glance as he turns the knob.

The moment Oakley opens the front door, it’s utter pandemonium.

There’s a monsoon of people in various areas of the house, and everyone we pass has a red Solo cup in their hands.

To the right of us, some people are dancing and having a good time, while others are trying to dance and having a terrible time.

A few couples are fighting…others are making out on whatever surface they can find.

I can tell Sawyer is even more overwhelmed than I am because her jaw damn near hit the floor the second we walked in.

“Is it always like this?” she questions.

“What?” Oakley shouts above the music as he makes a beeline for a table full of liquor.

“I said, is it always like this?”

Oakley splashes a generous helping of amber liquid in a cup. “Sometimes. It dies down a little as the night goes on. You’ll see.”

Sawyer takes an empty cup from the stack and peruses the table. “Is there anything here with an alcohol percentage under five?”

Oakley takes a long swig before reaching for the whiskey again. “Fuck if I know.”

I spot a half-empty bottle of soda hidden behind a pitcher and grab it. “Here.”

After taking a cautious whiff, she fills up two cups. “So what should we do now? To be honest, I’m already kind of bored.”

She hands me one of the cups and I take a sip. “Me too. Not to mention, the music sucks.”

Oakley rolls his eyes. “That’s because you’re both sober.”

Sawyer holds up her keys. “That’s because I’m driving.”

Oakley looks at me. “What’s your excuse?”

I’d like to stay alert and oriented in a house where most of the people I know are my enemies.

“Just not a big drinker,” I settle on.

“Yo,” a deep voice bellows from across the room.

I don’t miss the way Sawyer cringes as he walks up to our circle.

“Yup, this party officially blows.”

Evidently my friend is not a fan of Cole Covington.

Can’t say I blame her. The star quarterback might be beautiful, but he’s obnoxious and cocky as hell.

It also hurts to look at him, because he’s a walking apparition of his twin.

A cruel glimmer at a future that will never be.

A sad reminder of what once was.

I’m not sure how Cole—or Jace and his family—cope with it.

“What’s the matter, Dylan?” Those sharp green eyes of his glare daggers at me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

For once, I’m rendered speechless.

Sawyer isn’t, though. “Lay off her, Covington.”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite nerd.” His face lights up in a mocking grin as he takes her in. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Are you sure you’re not lost, sweetness?” Leaning in, he tilts his beer bottle toward the exit. “Bible study is down the road.”

Crossing her arms, she stares him down. “Please. You wouldn’t know a study group if it slapped you upside the head and crawled up your ass.”

He licks the tip of his beer bottle suggestively. “Oh, baby. I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Her face scrunches in disgust. “God, you’re such a pig.”

Cole zeroes in on her chest and bites his lip. “Oink, oin—”

A girl I recognize from Britney’s posse sidles up to him mid-sentence and he puts his arm around her. “Hey, sexy. Thought I was meeting you in the hot tub?”

She starts to speak, but Cole diverts his attention to something behind us. “About time you finished.”

My stupid, traitorous heart jumps into a sprint when I see Jace coming down the staircase.

He’s wearing a black Henley that does delicious things to his sculpted arms, and well-fitted jeans that hang low on hips.

His face, as usual, is goddamn perfect. Even more so with the fine dusting of stubble lining his jaw tonight.