The Peer and the Puppet (When Rivals Play, #1) (9)

All but one seemed to be having a good time. He sat far enough from the flame that I couldn’t see much of his face, but I could tell he was brooding as he stared at the water. A girlish scream tore my attention away, and I watched as a guy holding a cup with liquor pouring over the rim gave chase to a leggy blonde.

“Fresh meat!” Heads turned, and I realized I’d been spotted. The guys began to hoot and holler while the girls sized me up. I was still mostly in the shadows, but it wouldn’t matter how I looked. The guys were drunk and horny, and to the girls, that alone made me competition. I backed away when a bare-chested blond in red board shorts and his darker, lankier cohort eased closer. “Don’t be shy,” board shorts cooed. “We don’t bite.” Their wolfish grins said otherwise.

“Yeah, come party with us.”

I snorted. “You two sound like you belong in a bad vamp movie.” I ignored the snickers and focused on keeping space between us. My pursuers didn’t seem offended, but that was likely because they were completely stoned.

“I’m starting to think you’re the one who bites,” board shorts said with twinkling blues. “For future reference, I’m single.”

“Thanks for the invitation, but I’m just passing through.”

“Not without a beer, you’re not.” He was close enough now to grab my hand, and against my better judgment, I let him pull me toward the bonfire. When I stood amongst their circle, someone handed him a beer, which he then shoved in my hand.

“Got a name?”

“Four.”

He barked a laugh and then cocked his head. “That’s not a name, girl. That’s a number.”

I was careful not to look him in the eye as I shrugged. “Well, I’m Four,” I repeated. He wasn’t the first to find my name strange. No one knew why Rosalyn named me Four, and for her sake, I kept it that way.

“It’s cool. I’m Drake, and this”—he pointed to his friend with the mop of dark curls—“is Ben.”

I nodded and looked around at the rest of the group who had lost interest and returned to partying. There were maybe fifteen people, mostly male and my age.

“You’re not from around here.” Drake hadn’t bothered posing it as a question.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Your lack of entitlement.” I lifted my unopened beer can in salute. “And no offense, new friend, but those are the shittiest pair of chucks I’ve ever seen.” The stoners peered down at my dirty green and white sneakers, but there wasn’t even a hint of malice.

Feeling self-conscious, my feet shifted in the sand as I muttered, “I think they have character.”

The two of them chortled, and then Drake smoothly wrapped his arm around my neck and drew me even closer to him and the fire. The flames licking at my face, arms, and legs kept me from pushing away. It felt good against the chill at my back.

“So is everyone in Blackwood Keep rich?”

“No, but people who come to this portion of the beach usually are. Everyone thinks we’re snobs.”

“Aren’t you?”

He snorted and squeezed me against his side. “Not all of us. Beach is a beach.” His smile grew as he gazed down at me. “And some of those girls whose daddies make shit money are really hot.”

Deciding I didn’t feel like being hit on all night, I pushed away and chucked my beer in the sand. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll be going now.”

“Aw, don’t go,” he whined. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“If you mean that, let me use your phone.”

His eyebrows bunched. “Why?”

“I need a ride home.”

He quickly downed the rest of his drink and crushed the cup before tossing it in the sand. “Phone’s dead, but I’ll drive you.”

I started to turn down his offer when I heard, “You’re shitfaced, Cromwell. You won’t be driving her anywhere.”

I turned my head at the new voice. At some point, the brooder had abandoned his seat to stand closer to the flames. Green eyes stared back at me over the fire while the ocean’s breeze ruffled light brown hair.

“What do you mean, Rees?” Drake spread his arms wide and grinned. “I feel like flying.”

“Yeah, into a ditch.” He cut off Drake’s response with a sharp shake of his head and said, “She can find her own way home.” This Rees guy then dismissed me with a flick of his eyes.

Drake looked as disappointed as a stoned person could. “Sorry, Four.” He shrugged though I could see his frustration. “The Prince of Blackwood Keep has spoken.”

I didn’t care about losing a ride from Drake. Rees, otherwise known as asshole, had made a valid point, but it was clear this prince didn’t speak up out of concern. He’d merely used Drake’s intoxication as an excuse to alienate me.

I walked away but not without a backward glance. Rees’s back was turned, but I could just make out the phone plastered to his ear. I had already been forgotten.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, I reached the main road with goose bumps crawling up my bare arms. I couldn’t see more than a foot in front of me, and just as I hoped that nothing lurked in the dark, blue and red flashing lights lit up the night. Despite my relief, I kept walking until my name was called over the loudspeaker.