More Than Lies (More Than #1)(5)

Lucky bastards.

“It is,” I finally agree after unbuckling my seat belt. He does the same, and I’m guessing he’s expecting me to invite him in. There is a party going on inside, after all. It’s a Friday night and at just past ten this place is just getting started. There’s always a party happening on the weekends at the house. I’d be rude not to invite him in. Hell, maybe he might find a girl better suited for him than me. There is someone for everyone, or so Mrs. Braden, Shawn’s mom, is always telling me. I’m just not convinced that person exists for me. Well, at least not the one I want.

If you can’t have the one you want, then what’s the point?

“Want to come inside?” I’m surprised to find myself actually not annoyed by this idea. I’m sure this guy isn’t as bad as I have imagined. So what if his parents are friends with mine. Does that mean he’s self-centered like they are? No, of course not, and I’m being unfair to the guy. I should at least give him a chance, right?

But this isn’t the first time my mother has swindled me into going out with a guy.

As I’m thinking this I hear him respond: “Sure.” I look him over once more before opening the car door and climbing out of his yellow corvette.

Wonder if he realizes the “yellow” screams “look at me I’m a douche”? Probably not. I’m guessing that thought never entered his head.

I silently laugh to myself.

Reality is, I’m simply not attracted to him. If I was, I wouldn’t be making fun of his car in my head. I doubt the thought of douchery would’ve even popped up. Fact is, no amount of spending additional time with this guy is going to change that. Now I’m regretting the invite. Oh, well, too late. As I round the car, he’s hanging back, waiting for me to lead the way, so I do just that. The moment he places his palm on the small of my back, my body stiffens. I speed up slightly, trying to give him the hint that I don’t like him touching me. To my dismay, he does the same and places his hand back in the same spot.

Take a hint, dude.

As I open the front door we’re greeted with a blast of loud music. A smile graces my face as we walk over the threshold. I love music, especially loud, screaming obnoxious melodies. I’m a rock-n-roll and metal with a side of country and a dash of Harry Connick Jr. kind of girl. My mood is already tipping up for the better as I step out of the way to allow Preston to enter.

After I close the door, I kick off my purple heels that match my dress, leaving them by the entranceway.

“Remove your shoes,” I order. Preston gives me a questioning glance, but complies.

“There are always a ton of people coming and going around here,” I start to explain. “The house belongs to one of my roommate’s grandparents. The first time a party was thrown here the floors had to be redone the following week. Do you know how much it costs to have someone sand and re-polish the floors in a house that’s all wood?” I don’t give him a chance for a response. “A lot.” And it was. That was almost a decade ago when Shane and Trent lived here, but still. I don’t even want to imagine what it would cost today.

I lead Preston down the hallway, bypassing the living room to my right, and head straight toward the kitchen. The smell of grease and cheese infiltrate my nose before my eyes land on the mass array of pizza boxes everywhere.

This is going to be a fun clean-up for me tomorrow. Ugh.

“Want something to drink?” I toss over my shoulder as I enter the kitchen, walking to the junk desk where I plug my iPhone into the charger. As I pivot, heads look our way. Mason has his arm thrown over a petite redhead I’ve never seen before. It’s not unusual. He’s got a different bedmate every week. I halfheartedly smile as my man-whore of a roommate gives me a knowing shrug. Matt has his girlfriend, Amanda, tucked in front of him. He nods my way while Amanda scrunches up her nose. It’s a failed battle on Matt’s part. His girlfriend and I will never be friends, but since he is my BFF, I’ll make nice with her even when she’s being a catty bitch—which is often.

I turn my attention back to my guest, awaiting his reply. “Drink?” I ask again, with a touch of annoyance at having to repeat myself. His head is slow to turn. I glance around him, noting that he’s caught the attention of one of Amanda’s friends that she brought for the weekend from Mississippi State.

“Yes, please. A glass of white wine would be good.” Is it appropriate to roll your eyes in front of your date? Nope, I don’t think it is. I go for a sympathetic smile.

“We don’t have win—”

“I have Sauvignon Blanc,” Amanda interrupts as she presses off Matt’s chest. “You want?”

“Absolutely, thank you.”

Well, isn’t he just so well freakin’ mannered.

“Aren’t you going to introduce all of us to your new friend, Taralynn?” Amanda pins me with a stare as she pulls the refrigerator door open, grabbing the bottle with one hand and closing it with the other. She successfully plays the nice card when she wants to impress someone.

“Everyone, this is Preston,” I reply with an even tone. “Preston, everyone.”

Am I being rude? Probably, but it’s not like he’s going to be around after tonight. I did the one date thing to make my mother happy. There’s zero potential for a relationship with him, so I don’t feel the need to tell him everyone’s name. Heck, I’m not even sure who everyone is. Sure, many of these people are over most weekends, but they aren’t exactly my friends. I socialize with them a little, but I don’t know them as well as Matt and Mason do. I know the ones that live in our neighborhood or frequent the local pub I work at, but the others? No clue. I’m sure most go to Ole Miss like Matt, Mason, and me, but it’s a big campus, and I’m too busy for much of a social life beyond hanging with my roommates.