Page 2 of Anti-Hero (Kensingtons: The Next Generation #2)

Well, not my girl. But my … something.

Anticipation accelerates my heart rate into an uneven staccato as her steps continue straight this way.

I don’t have many problems .

But Collins Tate would be my favorite quandary even if I had hundreds to contend with.

There’s no surprise on her face when she reaches the table—only resignation—which means she spotted me earlier and our lack of interaction so far was purposeful on her part.

“Sorry that took so long,” Collins says, smiling apologetically at Perry. “There was a line.”

“No problem. Your champagne didn’t try to run off while you were gone.” He grins at his own lame joke.

I glance at Flynn, who’s wearing a reluctantly impressed look on his face. Perry is a decent-looking guy, I guess, but I’ve never seen him flirt with a woman before. I doubt Flynn has either.

My jaw tightens again. I’m entirely still, outwardly calm yet fully tensed. Like a sprinter poised on the block, waiting for the starting gun to fire off. My bloodstream hums with pure adrenaline.

“Hey. I’m Flynn.”

I say nothing as Flynn introduces himself to Collins.

They’ve met before—Lili invited Collins to my grandmother’s famous Fourth of July party the year they graduated—but I’m unsurprised Flynn doesn’t remember.

I usually throw my own less stuffy party during my grandmother’s annual bash that isn’t conducive to a clear recollection of the holiday.

“Collins. Nice to meet you.”

They shake hands right in front of me, but Flynn is the only one who glances my way afterward. He’s waiting for me to introduce myself.

I’m waiting, too, but not for him.

Her dress is blue, I decide.

“Next time, use the restrooms by the spa,” Flynn advises, filling the brief pause. “Not many people know about those. Local secret.” He winks conspiratorially.

Flynn—like me—has been to many events here before. The Hamptons’ most exclusive parties are held at this hotel or at Atlantic Crest Country Club.

“Good to know. Thanks.” Collins picks up her champagne flute with long, delicate fingers.

I’ve never seen her play before, but I can picture her sitting at a piano so easily. Can practically hear the notes she’d press echo in my head.

Then, my thoughts swerve. I imagine those hands sliding off ivory keys.

Running down my chest, fisting my cock. A sudden bolt of heat sizzles down my spine, which I attempt to douse with a long sip of scotch.

The effect is more like tossing gasoline on smoldering embers since she’s still intentionally ignoring me.

“Is this your first visit to the Hamptons?”

Flynn was the one who asked the question, but Collins looks at me, not him, as she answers, “No. I’ve been here before.”

I hold her gaze, waiting. For a few seconds, it feels like the global population has dwindled down to two.

She swallows once before adding, “Hi, Kit.”

Satisfaction swirls with adrenaline as I smirk at her. “Hey. Nice ball gown, Monty.”

Collins purses her lips. She’s never taken a single compliment I’ve given her as anything other than a veiled insult. Or maybe she’s mad about the nickname. “Thank you. That suit almost makes you look like an adult.”

My smile widens. “Perfect. I told my tailor tonight’s dress code was overgrown teenager . ”

The last time I saw Collins Tate was the same time Flynn did. A little over two years ago and approximately five miles from here, at my grandparents’ Hamptons estate.

When Collins arrived at the party, I picked a stupid argument that ended with her calling me an overgrown teenager and stalking off. Not an inaccurate description or even an unwarranted one, but unpleasant, coming from the one woman I really wanted to view me as a man.

Unfortunately, I do revert to a teenager around her. Or worse. A juvenile, teasing a pretty girl on the playground because he doesn’t know how else to hold her attention.

“How do you two know each other?” Flynn wonders, brow crinkling with obvious confusion.

Our social circles overlap so much that they’re essentially the same sphere. Side effect of being best friends since you were in diapers.

“I’m friends with his older sister,” Collins replies before I can.

The emphasis she places on older is impossible to miss.

Also unnecessary. I only have one sister.

But I’m unsurprised she chose that particular adjective.

Collins loves acting like the eighteen months that separate our birthdays are an eon of maturity.

To be fair, she’s rarely seen me act like a responsible adult.

Most women find my nonchalance charming.

Flynn snaps his fingers, then exclaims, “Oh, that’s right ! You’re the hot-dog girl!”

“I’m what?” Collins smiles indulgently, but the way her fingers pinch the stem of her champagne flute betrays her annoyance. The thin glass looks liable to snap, so anger might be more accurate.

I haven’t forgotten the topic I argued with Collins about the last time we spoke, but I wish Flynn’s alcohol amnesia had lasted longer.

“You’re the girl who got into the argument with Kit about hot dogs,” my best friend continues, grinning. “Pretty impressive actually. For Kensington’s many faults, he’s one hell of a debater.”

“I appreciate the compliment.” Collins is still smiling, and it’s still her fake one. “But I don’t remember that.” She smooths her hair, even though there’s not a single strand out of place.

Liar , sits ready at the tip of my tongue. I’m certain she remembers, and I’m equally positive we could stand here all night and she’d never admit it. Stubborn is the third word I’d use to describe her, right after devastatingly gorgeous .

I swish the amber contents in my glass, watching the scotch splash up the sides and drip back down. “Did windy Chicago blow you all the way back to the East Coast, Collins?”

“Something like that.” She glances away after that vague reply to my raging curiosity, likely looking for an escape route from continued conversation with me.

Collins Tate is hell on a man’s confidence. Good thing I’ve got plenty to spare.

“I didn’t know you lived in Chicago!”

I basically forgot about Perry’s presence, but he clearly hasn’t forgotten about Collins’s.

He’s beaming at her as he adds, “I went to Northwestern for law school. Great city, Chicago.”

Collins nods. “It is.”

Her agreement is more matter-of-fact than containing any real conviction.

“And yet you’re both in New York right now,” I say. “So, Chicago must not be that great.”

Collins glares.

I grin, holding eye contact as I slowly lift my glass to take another sip.

“Kit! How are you?”

I turn to see Fran, one of Lili’s childhood friends, approaching. “Hey, Fran,” I greet easily, giving her a quick hug.

Fran’s like family. Lili has had the same core group of friends forever, so I grew up seeing some combination of them at every event my family attended. They’re all part of the opulent, glittering world people are desperate to gain access to.

She squeezes my biceps. “Damn. Someone’s been working out. I bet you look even better in a swimsuit than wearing a suit , suit. Now I’m extra mad I missed the Red, White, and Blue party this year.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, you missed out.”

“ Really missed out,” Flynn adds. “Kit outdid himself this year.”

Multiple pairs of eyes are on me, but I can still feel the extra weight of hers.

Fran hugs Flynn, too, then glances at Collins. “Hi! You look so familiar. Have we met before?”

Collins nods. “A couple of years ago, I think. Lili invited me to her graduation party. We were at Yale together before she transferred to Columbia.”

Fran nods enthusiastically. “That must be it! I’m Fran. Lili and I have been friends since …” She glances at me. “Since before you were born, I think?”

I shrug. “You’re asking me if I remember my pre-existence?”

“Good point.” Fran giggles before refocusing on Collins. “Anyway, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you again,” Collins echoes. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

She’s uncomfortable in this room. Collins didn’t grow up in this world. She’s not angling to join it either, which makes her presence tonight especially strange.

Fran introduces herself to Perry, then spins back toward me. “Tripp and Jasper are over here. Come say hi.” She grabs my hand and tows me toward the center of the room, where more of Lili’s friends are standing, without waiting for a response.

I let Fran pull me away from the table. Flynn can fend for himself. And it can’t hurt to show Collins that someone finds my company enjoyable. The fact that it happens to be one of my older sister’s friends is simply a bonus.

Collins Tate’s opinion of me clearly hasn’t changed in the two years since we last saw each other.

Chances are high that it never will. I should probably grow the hell up and accept that.

The two boyfriends of hers I’ve met were dull bores.

Her type seems to be straitlaced guys who are earnest and unmemorable and agreeable.

Me? I’m more of an antihero.