Page 15 of Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 1)

The words of others mean jack.

Promises are a way of ending an unwanted conversation.

And lies make our world go round.

“You good in what you have on? ‘Cause her guy will be here in a few minutes.”

I look down at my joggers and black long sleeve. “Kinda party we talkin’?”

She grins. “House party for spoiled assholes. Huge, flaunty house and hoes galore. You think the jerks at our school come off privileged? These people are so flaunty they could give Beverly Hills a run for their money.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back,” I tell her and head for the house.

Last thing I want is to draw attention to myself and if these people are as flashy as she’s letting on, then they’ll pick me and my baggy sweats out in the crowd in an instant. At least with pants I can shoot for invisible.

I walk past the girls playing around in the living room and make my way to my room, pulling out a pair of jeans and a white tank that hits just above my stomach. I grab my grey and black flannel and throw it over, stuff some cash in my back pocket, my pocket knife in my front, and head out the door.

And speaking of cash, I’m gonna need to talk with Bass again before I get too low.

Right when I reach the girls, Victoria’s boyfriend pulls up – a guy I recognize from school.

“Hey, baby,” he greets her and gives us a small wave.

She pulls the seat forward in his ancient, two-door and we silently climb into the back.

I ignore the conversation on the way over, quietly considering what I’m willing to spend on what’s probably shitty weed in the first place while I note the street names the entire way over – never know when you might need to find your own way back. Before I realize it, we’re pulling behind a pile of cars on a huge court.

“Damn.”

Nira nods and climbs out ahead of me.

I look from the group of people on the lawn to the ones walking up a driveway the size of two basketball courts.

We get halfway up the driveway when Victoria turns to me with her freaky, narrowed stink eyes. “Don’t mention being from Brayshaw.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said,” she snaps before stomping off, her man trailing behind her and I can’t help but laugh.

Nira shakes her head, at Victoria or me, I don’t know or care, and veers left.

I look over to see the other girls from the group home gathered near the porch, beers in hand, but I don’t join. Instead, I make my way through the open garage and into the giant ass house.

Music blares from all around. Clearly, there’s some badass sound system set up in the walls – the base surrounds you.

Dozens upon dozens of teenagers are scattered around, dancing, drinking, and laughing with their friends.

I’m knocked to the side as I squeeze past a dancing couple, and the girl spins to glare as if she didn’t just bump into me, but before she can pop off, the guy pulls her back in.

I make my way around the corner to the open kitchen where a group of guys are playing a card game at the table, cigars hanging from most of their mouths.

The blond one in the center catches my eye and winks before dropping his cards on the table, apparently winning his hand if the others’ groans tell me anything. He must consider me impressed because a smirk is thrown my way next.

I offer a wink and continue past, taking it upon myself to grab a water bottle from the ice bucket on the counter.

As I spin back around, blondie steps in front of me. “And who might you be, sweetness?”

“A figment of your imagination.” I grin, attempting to side step him, but he slides with me.

“My imagination has always been damn good to me,” he teases.

“I bet.” I laugh lightly. “I’d also bet you don’t have to use it all too often.” I purposely let my eyes graze over his physique – he’s firm in all the right places. “Or do the girls not fall at the man of the house’s feet?” I throw out my guess and he smiles, telling me without words I’m right.

“Well, sweetness, you’re still standing so I must be off my game tonight.” He crosses his arms, smirking down at me. “Or maybe your ball’s in the other court.” His eyes drop to my chest, pausing for a slight second before quickly traveling over my outfit.

I pop a careless shoulder and step around him, spinning to walk backward as he turns to face me. “Maybe. Guess you’ll never know.”

“Never say never, new girl.”

A crease lines my forehead, and his chin lifts an inch.

When I say nothing, taking another step away, he takes one closer.