Lucky Kisses(3)By: Addison Moore
“Forget Rush,” Grant offers while dipping a kiss to Ava’s neck. Both Ava and I do a quick nervous sweep of the vicinity for her brother, Owen. Yes, he approves of Ava dating Grant, but just barely by the skin of his overprotective teeth. Ava’s brother, Owen, and my brother, Jet, are close friends. I suppose like-minded sexual tyrants have a tendency to magnetize. But as far as Ava goes, it’s nice to have someone in the same miserable shoes when it comes to our Delta Force Big Brother Brigade. Although, in all truth, Jet would never approve of me having a boyfriend. In that respect, Ava is the lucky one—not me by a long shot.
“There are tons of decent guys in Beta house.” Now it’s Grant offering up his fraternity brothers on the penis-shaped platter. His hands creep up Ava’s sweater until they’re no longer visible, and now I’m slightly fearing for both of their necks.
“Would you two stop worrying about me and get a room already?” I give Ava a brief embrace, and Grant accidentally feels up both my boobs and hers. “Get out of here before you sponsor a big brother outrage that accidentally pulls the pin on my own brother’s sanity.”
The Black Bear happens to be both Owen’s and Jet’s favorite alcohol-laden watering hole. Case in point, that’s exactly why Ava and I only visit the Black Bear during these rare mandatory mixers. Usually, all Greek activity is bound and gagged on The Row, where all the Greeks sit neatly tucked inside their Victorian mansions. But once in a while, we cross the line in the Greek sand and intermingle with the other Whitney Briggs’ students who just so happen to haunt this piña colada paradise.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Ava blows me a kiss as Grant whisks her toward the exit.
“Do everything I would do, you little whore!” I laugh as I scream the words out, but my efforts are in vain as the 12 Deadly Sins belt out the lyrics to their latest song. That’s the one thing I do appreciate about the Black Bear—live music. And their lead singer isn’t so hard on the eyes either.
My hips begin to sway as I migrate my way over to the center of the dance floor where the rest of the girls from Kappa G have amassed, and I bump into a hard body—Lawson Kent.
That short-lived smile I was sporting is replaced with something I’m far more comfortable with, something I can’t help but do whenever the aforementioned jock strap is around—scowl.
Lawson Kent is tall, muscular to a Gibraltar fault, and built like sheetrock. Lawson is on the basketball team with Rush and Grant. Apparently, the three of them are pretty tight, which is pretty great for them, but seeing that he’s my least favorite part of the trio, I’m quick to sidestep out of his way. And much to my chagrin, he sidesteps right along with me.
“Why are you always avoiding me?” Those lime green eyes of his sizzle over my skin, and, honest to God, my face is starting to blister.
“Why are you always annoying me?” True as God. Lawson Kent’s superpower is getting under my skin and burrowing in. He’s about as welcome in my sub-dermal layer as a dust mite. He’s about as charming as the parasite, too, which seems to be why just his presence has the ability to send me into a blind rage.
He leans in until his face is inches from mine. “What exactly is it about me that pisses you off?” His lips curl up at the tips as if the idea in general somehow pleased him, and the thought has me whistling with steam like a teakettle.
“What exactly is it about me that makes you want to care?” I try to skip around him, but he blocks my move as if we’re on the court and I was holding the ball. Come to think of it, between the two of us, I’m probably the only one with balls.
“I don’t care.” His hands fly in the air as if attesting to this callous fact. “I was just wondering. Because in my experience, when a girl expends so much negative energy around me, she eventually ends up in my—”
“Laundry basket?” My brows hike to my forehead as I get up in his textbook handsome face. Everything is textbook about Lawson Kent, the basketball all-star here on scholarship. Basic good looks that have the power to lure any and every coed into his aforementioned STD-laden mattress? Check (Sans me, of course). “Don’t you ever believe for a minute that I’d land anywhere near that venereal disease-laden bedroom of yours.” I hike up on my tiptoes until we’re nose-to-nose. “And don’t ever verbally insinuate it either!”