Page 2 of The Good Student (Straight No More #2)

THE PARTY CONTINUES in full swing, but my mind keeps drifting back to my encounter with Asher.

I catch myself watching him more times than I'd care to admit, tracking his movements through the crowd.

Just making sure he's not causing trouble , I tell myself, even as my eyes linger on the way he throws his head back when he laughs.

Asher catches me looking once, and the bastard has the audacity to slowly lick his lips before turning away like I don't even exist. The dismissal shouldn't bother me, but it does.

"Dance with me!" Monica tugs on my arm, and I gratefully let myself be pulled onto the makeshift dance floor, desperate for the distraction.

Two songs later, my shirt sticking to my back from the heat of too many bodies packed together, I collapse onto an empty couch. I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the cushions.

"You look like you could use this."

My eyes snap open to find Asher standing over me, holding out a beer. The condensation drips down the bottle, catching the party lights.

"I'm good." I make no move to take it.

"Come on," Asher drops onto the couch next to me, close enough that our thighs almost touch. "I promise it's not poisoned."

"The fact that you felt the need to specify that isn't exactly reassuring."

Asher's lips quirk up. "Careful there, Philip. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were actually capable of being funny."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were actually capable of taking a hint." But I take the beer anyway, if only to have something to do with my hands.

"Oh, I can take hints." Asher shifts, angling his body toward me. "I just choose to ignore the ones I don't like."

"That's called being an asshole."

"That's called being persistent." Asher's eyes drift down to my mouth as I take a sip of beer. "Besides, something tells me you'd be worth the effort."

I nearly choke on my drink. "Jesus, do you ever quit?"

"Not when I see something I want." Asher's voice drops lower. "And I bet you're a good fuck. You've got that repressed energy about you."

"You're insane."

"Maybe." Asher shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the accusation.

My attention drifts to the party around us, noticing how many people are watching Asher—wanting gazes from both guys and girls tracking his every move. It's irritating how magnetic he is, how he draws attention without even trying.

And yeah, okay, I can sort of see why. Objectively speaking, Asher's attractive—all broad shoulders and defined arms barely contained by his t-shirt, sharp jawline and eyes that seem to see right through you. His presence fills up space in a way that's hard to ignore.

Fuck, stop looking at him like that.

But it's too late—Asher's caught me staring again. His smile turns predatory. "Like what you see? It's up for grabs if you want it."

I force out a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as strained as it feels. "No, thank you."

"Suit yourself." Asher stands, stretching in a way that makes his shirt ride up slightly. "But you'll change your mind soon enough."

As I watch him walk away, I can't decide what pisses me off more—Asher's cocky presumption that I'll eventually give in, or the fact that half the party seems to follow him with their eyes like he's some kind of god.

What makes him so special anyway ? I take an angry swig of my beer. Sure, he's good-looking and charismatic, but he's also an insufferable dick who clearly needs to be knocked down a peg or twelve.

The beer tastes bitter in my mouth as I realize I've spent the last five minutes thinking about Asher again. Get it together, man. He's just trying to get in your head .

Problem is, he's already there.