Three |Leia Welsh|

I tug at my too-short black dress, courtesy of Ari's questionable fashion sense. My boobs are practically screaming for attention, and the damn thing keeps riding up with every step I take. And don't even get me started on these torture devices she calls sandals. They're so tight, I swear they're one sharp turn away from snapping.

And my hair? Constantly in my face, thanks to the chilly wind or my never-ending battle with the dress. It's enough to make a girl lose her mind.

Henson smirks at me, taking in the scene of a shirtless girl straddling a guy on the lawn, they're five seconds away from ripping each other's clothes off – all their clothes.

"This place seems fitting for you," Henson remarks, earning an eye roll from me.

"I feel right at home. And I'm sure Ari will be your personal knight in shining armor from these scary big jocks." I shoot back.He always finds some way to indirectly call me a slut, whether it was that one time I wore shorts to the beach or that time I didn't know he was over and was only in my towel. I swear this guy has made it his life's mission to make me hate him, and it's working.

It's ironic because Jorge, Ari's dad, told me that anytime a guy bugged me, I should slap the fuckery out of him. Except I can't exactly do that, because Ari would probably have a heart attack, she's not very big on violence.

"Cut it out, you two," Ari sashays out of the car, looking like a vision in her beige dress and freshly curled auburn hair cascading down to her shoulders. Her strapless clear heels elongate her already perfect legs, making me feel like a slut in comparison.

As we make our way inside, the thumping music assaults my eardrums, I wonder if my hearing will ever be the same again.

The first thing that catches my eye is a blonde dude with hair so slicked back it looks like he used a whole bottle of gel. He's got muscles for days, but that hair? No thank you. And then there's this tall, beefy guy in a letterman jacket, practically swallowing a girl's face near the stairs. Classy.

"I'm going to go mingle," I shout to Ari, who immediately positions herself protectively next to Henson. I bite back a snarky comment and head off into the crowd.

"SOS text me if anything happens," Ari yells after me, to which I give her a thumbs up before disappearing into the sea of bodies. I squeeze my way through the sea of bodies on the dance floor, dodging flailing arms and stepping around spilled drinks until I finally make it to the relative sanctuary of the kitchen.

Standing by the cooler of beers, I can't help but question why I even bothered to agree to come to this party in the first place.

I don't know any of the people here, and the ones who do recognize me only do so as Ari's friend. And to be honest, I'm not exactly interested in making small talk with them just because we have a mutual friend.

But, since I'm already here, I figure I might as well try to make the best of it and strike up a conversation with someone. Who knows, maybe I'll stumble upon a hidden gem among this sea of partygoers.

I scan the kitchen and my eyes fall upon a jock who's practically assaulting a tall blonde girl. They're locked in a messy, public display of affection that makes me want to gag. It's like they've completely forgotten that they're in a kitchen surrounded by other people, and they're on the verge of crossing the line from PDA to a full-blown hookup right then and there.

It's repulsive to witness, but I can't tear my eyes away. Not because it turns me on in any way, but because I'm just amazed at how shamelessly people can act when they're in the throes of lust.

"And you are?" a loud voice interrupts my thoughts, causing me to jump in surprise.

I turn around and look up to find a tall guy, clad in the WB's basketball varsity jacket. He's swaying slightly, clearly drunk, and his breath reeks of alcohol.

His eyes are an ugly brown, darting around before settling on my chest. His dirty blonde hair is so long it could probably be braided, and I cringe at the sight. I'm not exactly picky, but no. "Leia," I respond, trying to keep my cool despite the annoyance bubbling inside me.

Inwardly, I curse myself for not coming up with a fake name like Katherine or Katrina.

As I stare at him, I notice how his jacket is slightly too small for him, the sleeves riding up to reveal his hairy forearms.

The way he's standing, with one hand on his hip and the other holding a half-empty beer bottle, just screams 'douchebag' to me.

I did say I wanted to meet new people, but not this guy.

Good Lord, his eyes are still fixated on my chest, for crying out loud.

It's been a while since I've had sex, but I'm not so desperate that I'd jump into bed with a jock, especially a drunk one.

"I'm Joshua, what's a fine piece of meat like you doing here?" he slurs, making me want to gag because, first, who says 'piece of meat?' Am I a cow?

Secondly, who asks 'what are you doing here' when it's a party? What else would I be doing at a party?

And thirdly, my nostrils are burning from the gallon of axel cologne he's wearing. Who sprays that much? I didn't notice it at first, but now it feels like my eyes are gonna water.

"I'm waiting for my boyfriend while he takes a piss," I say deceitfully because this conversation is going nowhere, and I'm the least bit interested in knowing how he wants it to continue.

"You don't gotta lie to leave, baby," he says, throwing his arm around my shoulder, making me even more alarmed. His hand feels clammy and sticky, like he's been holding a beer all night. I try to discreetly brush it off, but he doesn't seem to get the hint. His grip tightens, and I can feel my skin crawl as I desperately search for an escape route.

What the hell is this guy's deal? This is why I'm not so fond of athletes. This right here.

How is it that now, of all times, nobody is in the kitchen? The couple who was making out have left, and the kitchen is so empty it's awful. My luck is just downright bad.

I would use violence but since he goes to Willowbrook, I really don't want my reputation going downhill, even though it's hit rock bottom already.

"Oh, believe me, I wouldn't lie about having a boyfriend. I mean, who wouldn't want to snatch up a catch like you?"

I force a smile that could rival a clown's and watch as he falls for it hook, line, and sinker, nodding his head in agreement like a bobblehead on steroids.

One thing is athletes have huge egos, like huge. So maybe if I just flatter him for some time, then maybe he will just leave?

He then decides to up the ante with his cocky charm and suggests, "Then why don't Cha just leave 'em for one night with me instead?"

My desperation levels are hitting an all-time high, and I seriously would've considered making a break for it if Ari wasn't at this party, probably waiting to pounce on me if I try to escape.

I also don't want to leave her here with the so-called protection of Henson. Knowing Henson, he would probably get scared from a guy just looking at him. And there's so many hormonal guys here that I wouldn't even trust a dog near them.

I quickly scan the party, desperately looking for an escape route, and then I spot him, the perfect escape, a random guy in the sea of people in the living room chatting up some girl.

The guy is wearing a black shirt that shows off his incredible muscles along with jeans that make me stare at his ass for far too long. The short sleeve shirt shows off his golden arms which are perfectly tanned and muscular.

His hair? A pitch black that almost looks blue, and since his back is turned towards us, I can't see his face, which is more of a reason to do what I'm about to do.

I point at him and lie, "There he is, my boyfriend."

The guy I'm pointing at has his back turned to us, but the one I'm trying to ditch is not buying it. He's suspicious and in complete denial, but I'm not about to let this opportunity slip away.

I take a deep breath and go all in with my ridiculous plan, 'It's all or nothing, right?' I don't have to go this far...but I don't want the basketball player to start rumors because he got rejected, because with big egos come bigger gossipers. And I'm trying to keep a real low profile for college.

I stroll confidently over to the man I had pointed out, my mind screaming at me that it's a terrible idea, but my body is already in motion.

I don't bother considering the possibility that the girl near him could be his girlfriend, because at this point, I just don't care. I reach out and grab the man's arm, spinning him around without a second thought. As I glance up at his towering figure, I have to stand on my tippy toes to reach his lips.

Without hesitating, I crash my mouth into his, not bothering to take in his appearance. I can feel him trying to pull away slightly, but I refuse to let go as I wrap my arms around his neck.

In a split second, he responds with a rough passionate kiss, the kind that would make any girl swoon. My fingers weave through his silky hair, and his strong hands grasp my hips.

The kiss is like fireworks, an explosion of emotions. He kisses me with such ferocity that my brain turns into mush. As my fingers trace the outline of his jaw, he deepens the kiss, leaving me breathless and dazed.

The guy smells like a mixture of musk and cologne, a smell that makes my brain foggy and my body weak. The way he's kissing me, I would've thought it was the end of the world.

His touch is firm but gentle, and the kiss is electrifying, sending tingles racing through my body as he boldly slips his tongue into my mouth.

I'm so lost in the sensation that I hardly notice his hands gripping my ass, tightly. His lips taste of alcohol, but I savor every delicious moment, convinced that no one else could possibly taste this good.