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By:Bella Jewel

h my god, I love your dress!”

This comes from Sally, who is sitting in the front with Pete. She is supermodel gorgeous. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned skin and legs that go on for-freaking-ever. I adore her. She’s the sweetest girl who has no idea how gorgeous she really is. Her personality is addictive, and you can talk to her about anything.

“You look stunning, Sal.” I smile.

She flushes. “Oh, this old thing.”

This old thing is a dress that looks amazing on her. It’s baby blue, dips low at the front and accentuates all her curves.

Pete puts his foot on it and we launch forward with a laugh. We chat like crazy people the entire way to the club. When we’re there, Pete turns. He hands out fake IDs. I don’t know how he got those; I don’t want to know. My mom would kill me if she knew I was out clubbing. She thinks we’re going to a late dinner.

“If anyone busts you,” Pete says, “you don’t know who gave them to you.”

We all swear it and then climb out of the car and line up. As we get closer, my heart kicks up a notch. What if they figure us out? How the hell am I going to explain that one away? I bite my bottom lip and shift uncomfortably. “Will you stop it?” Melanie whispers in my ear. “You look like you’re packing.”

“Packing?” I squeak.



She giggles softly. “Smile, act cool; they won’t know.”

I take a deep breath and plaster a smile on my face. When we reach the bouncer he thrusts a beefy hand at us, eyes hard. I pull my ID out and hand it to him. He stares down at it and my stomach twists angrily. He looks up at me, then down at it again. Oh god, he knows. I’m so busted.

“Go through,” he mutters, thrusting it at me.

Say what?

Melanie doesn’t let me think about it. She smiles a dazzling smile and shoves me through.

“Oh my god, we got in!” I cry when we’re inside.

She winks at me. “Told you.”

We weave through the crowd until we reach the bar. Melanie orders tequila shots for herself, Sally and I. We shoot them down and then squeeze into a booth with the guys. We’re in the middle of laughing and drinking when Melanie shoves my shoulder. “Hot guy, three o’clock.”

I blink and turn.

“That’s ten o’clock!”

With a chuckle, I turn the other way and see the guy she’s talking about.

“He’s looking at you,” she yells into my ear.

He certainly is looking at me. He’s standing at the bar, leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. He’s got his eyes trained on me, and half a smirk on his face. From this distance, I can see he’s got sandy, maybe light brown hair that’s a few inches long and messy. He’s got piercing eyes, I can tell that even from here. What color they are, I don’t know. He’s tall and he’s ripped, even behind his tight black tee.

“Go and talk to him.”

I turn and gape at Melanie. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he might not be looking at me.”

He so was.

“He’s looking at you.” She looks past me. “Oh, look, he’s coming over.”

“Shit,” I stammer.

“You’ve gotten yourself some attention.” Jamison laughs.

“Eat me, Jamison.”

I turn slowly back just in time to see uber-hot dude stop at the booth. He stares down at me, and I can now see his eyes are somewhere between crystal blue and gray. They’re an odd color, but they’re stunning. His hair is sandy. He’s got a strong face, square jaw and full lips. God, yum.

“Ah, hi,” I call.

“You want to dance?” he asks, and oh, his voice is as husky as I guessed it would be.

“She sure does,” Melanie says, shoving me towards him.

I slide out of the booth, shooting her a glare, and then I turn on my best smile and face hot stuff. He reaches out, hooking his arm around my waist. Oh boy. He brings me close and then backs, yes backs, us onto the dance floor. Holy hotness. Then he starts moving with me and everything in my entire world stops because the man can move. All hips, all big strong hands, all sexy.

“What’s your name?” he murmurs into my ear as we move.

I shudder and I’m about to blurt it out, but instead I decide to get sexy. So, I smile and say, “We don’t need names. I am whoever you want me to be.”

He grins.

I’m smitten.



“Holy wow!” Melanie cries, lifting a black dress out of my suitcase. “Where did you get this little number?”

I grin at her. “Last semester at that cute shop on Main Street.”

“Serious?” She pouts. “I never find anything good there.”

“You can borrow it.”

She curls her upper lip at me. “Honey, you got more booty than me. It’d never fit.”

“Hey,” I cry, turning and staring at my ass in the mirror. “My booty isn’t that bad.”

She rolls her eyes. “No, it’s awesome, and I’m a stick insect. I want that booty.”

She totally has booty.

“You girls packed?”

We both turn to see Jack leaning against the doorframe. I straighten quickly, not wanting him to see me checking out my own ass. “Hey Jack,” I chirp.

He grins and Melanie actually sighs. Shame on her. He’s an old man. Okay, he’s not that old, but still . . .

“You want me to take some bags?”

He nods to the pile of four bags already on the floor. Melanie doesn’t pack light.


He walks in and lifts all four bags before turning and striding out as if they weighed no more than a couple of stuffed toys.

“Dude.” Melanie sighs. “Your step-dad is hot.”

“Grosse, Mel.” I cringe.

“Come on, you’re not related. Admit it. He’s hot.”

I frown. Ugh. “No.”

“I hope his sons are as hot as him.”

Good lord.

“Leave them alone,” I say, snatching the black dress out of her hands and stuffing it into my suitcase before sitting on it to close it.

Jack returns a few minutes later and takes it, then Melanie and I follow him down the hall. It’s been the longest week; the school days seemed to drag and as time went by, Melanie ramped up the excitement levels. She’s so excited about the prospect of being away, and I must admit I’m warming to the idea. After all, there’s a city close