Nothing But Trouble (Malibu University Series)(25)

“Well, I’m not,” I clarify. No matter how handsome he is. And that, he is––with intense, dark blue eyes and full lips that soften his overly angular features.

“N-neither am I,” Dora concurs.

“Me three,” Blake adds.

The only one conspicuously silent on the subject is Zoe who is presently surveying the crowd in an attempt to pretend she didn’t hear us. Her face grows tighter the closer he gets.

“Zoe––” Peterman calls out and Zoe’s head whips around, her shy smile blossoming into a full one. I’ve never seen her look so…vulnerable. Or genuinely happy for that matter. Which answers some of my questions and produces more.

“Hey, P.K.”

Set in a severe line, his lips part to reveal optic white teeth while his warm gaze takes its sweet time moving over her face. “Wanna go over notes tomorrow?”

His deep, smooth voice makes something as boring as studying sound sexy. And going by the look on Zoe’s face, I’m pretty sure I just heard her designer panties go up in flames.

A beat later he seems to recall that they are not in a bubble. His indigo eyes move to me and Dora and a question mark appears in them. One Zoe is quick to answer. “Brock, this is Dora and Alice. You know Blake.”

His chin tips up. “Ladies.” His attention immediately returns to Zoe. “How’s late afternoon? We can meet at the library?”

She looks up at him with so much undisguised awe that it almost feels like we’re intruding on an intimate moment.

“Brock––” yet another deep voice murmurs.

A tall black guy walks up and I’m instantly struck by his eyes. Large, golden, and rimmed in something darker. I can’t get a good read on the color because it seems to change with the way they catch light. They’re mesmerizing. And he just caught me staring. Great.

“Shane––Zoe, Dora, Blake, and…”

“Alice,” I finish for him.

Shane’s questioning gaze tags Brock’s. “Phone-tree girl?”

Phone-tree girl? I’m confused.

One corner of Brock’s mouth hikes up and he nods. Which only confuses me more. Shane smiles. It’s brief and brilliant, and so precious I can see why he doles it out in very small portions. “’Sup, ladies.” His attention immediately returns to Brock, expression turning grim. “Caught a couple of dudes doing bumps in the bathroom.”

Brock’s face darkens. “Ours?”

Shane shakes his head. “Never seen them before.”

“Do me a favor and toss them out.” Shane starts to leave and Brock catches him by the arm. “Take Quinn and Cole with you.”

Shane nods and a beat later he melds into the crowd.

“I am a golden god!” someone shouts from the second-floor balcony.

All heads tilt back to witness a guy standing on the railing. Wild curly blond hair. Chest bare with his arms spread wide. His body is a patchwork of carved muscles that descend into a deep V at the edge of his low-slung board shorts. An intricate tattoo covers his left pec, snakes over his shoulder, and down his arm.

“Way to rip off Almost Famous, dude,” a male voice emerges from the crowd.

“I fucking hate these parties,” Brock groans.

“Jump, jump, jump,” the chants start.

Scowling, Brock brackets his lush mouth with his hands and shouts back, “Do NOT jump. You’ll break your neck, asshole.” He glances back at Zoe and says, “Be right back,” before walking off to deal with his friend.

“Dallas Van Zant is a certified idiot,” Zoe mutters.

“He’s not that bad,” Dora counters.

Well, this is curious. All three of us turn to stare at her. Wide and innocent, her big brown eyes dart back and forth between us.

“What? We have English lit together.” She shrugs. “He’s a lot smarter than people think.”

No stutter. Her adamant defense of him also noteworthy. Hmm.

I bookmark it, save the questions for later because Dallas (smarter than people think) cannonballs into the pool and displaces most of the water onto the people crowded around it. We scrabble away in time to avoid getting hit. The group of girls standing nearby, however––not so lucky. They scream as they bear the brunt of it.

“Most of the time,” Dora amends.

“Zo-ho, trolling for dick as usual,” a male voice calls out, loud enough for everybody around us to hear.

Zoe stiffens. Her hard stare veers to a guy who slowly approaches with two others right behind him.

He’s stocky. With espresso dark hair and even darker eyes hidden beneath the flat brim of a Malibu University Baseball team cap. All three are wearing Under Armour shirts painted to their ripped chest, silky shorts hanging to their knees.

Brock returns almost simultaneously and wedges himself between Zoe and the trio, essentially creating a human wall.

Zoe flips the troublemaker off and he returns a sly half smile. More of a leer. This guy is objectively attractive, but seems almost a cartoon villain with all the posturing.

“The bird? Really, Zo-ho, that’s the best you can do?” he says with a humorless chuckle.

Zoe tilts her head, slouches. The epitome of lazy indifference. “I wasn’t flipping you off, Kellan. I was showing the girls the size of your dick.” Scanning our frozen expressions, she showcases her finger. “This is what it looks like hard. I can’t recommend it.”