Save Yourself by H.G. Lynch Read Free Book Online Page A

out of my head. Even the thought of his name, of his intense eyes, of his smile, made me squirm with desire for him. He was like a magnet, drawing me in irresistibly. I couldn’t fight his pull. No matter how dangerous he might be.
    Finally, I swore, shoved the receipt-invite into my jacket pocket, grabbed my bag, and scribbled a note to Evie, who was out with James again. They were supposedly seeing a movie but most likely sitting in the back of the cinema with her tongue down his throat. But hey, who was I to judge? I was about to go to some random guy’s house for a party just because I thought he was hot.
    Hormones—One. Common sense—Nil.
     
    The address on the invite was on the edge of the seedy part of town, and the block of flats in front of me looked like the home of drug dealers, pimps, and a possible murderer. Standing on the street, shivering in my Doc Martens, I was starting to second-guess my decision to come.
    I could hear loud rock music pounding from one of the upper floor windows, laughter and cigarette smoke pouring out into the chilly night. Down the street, a pub was spilling light and drunks onto the pavement. I knew that, if I didn’t make up my mind soon, one of those men would spot me, and I’d probably be in trouble. Sure, I could easily outrun any of them, but still…why risk it?
    Sighing, I made up my mind. Determinedly, I strode up to the door of the block of flats and pressed the service button. It buzzed, and I pushed open the front door. The inside of the building looked as grimy and seedy as the outside, and there was a strong smell of piss permeating the air. I held my breath, stomped up the concrete stairs to the third floor and found the number of the address written on the invite. From the noise coming from within, it was definitely the right place.
    That was my last chance to back out, to turn around and go home. I should just forget about Brogan—but I knew I couldn’t. That guy was under my skin already, and I figured the only way to get him out was to get the insatiable craving for him out of my system.
    I raised my hand to knock on the door, but before I could, it swung open, letting out a blast of warm air and loud music. Brogan stood on the threshold, grinning down at me, looking delectable in a tight black t-shirt and ragged blue jeans. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, his eyes sweeping over me, and I flushed. How could he make me want him so badly just by looking at me?
    “Well, well, well,” he murmured, his voice low and clear over the thumping music and chatter from inside. “I was wondering when you would show up.”
    I noticed he said when , not if . As if there was no doubt that I would turn up. He was just that cocky. I smirked at him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I only came because my better offer cancelled at the last minute,” I lied, cocking one hip with attitude.
    Brogan smiled, as if he knew I was lying, and said, “Oh, really. Well, I guess you’d better come in then. I’d hate for you to have dressed up for nothing.”
    Inside, the flat was surprisingly spacious, but I guessed that was because of the lack of furniture. Besides the sofa, an old boxy TV, and the kitchen appliances, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of home comforts. The floor was bare wood planks, warped and stained, and the walls were painted dark granite grey. The colourful attire of the party guests livened the place up a bit. There were girls in neon tutus or hot pink spandex, and guys wearing either much the same as Brogan—though they didn’t look nearly as good—or shorts and bright body-paint splattered on their bare chests.
    Music blared from an iPod docking station in the kitchen, where a huge dude with a blonde ponytail and facial tats changed the track from Rammstein to some dance tune. The people dancing and grinding in the living room didn’t seem to notice the change.
    Brogan scowled and yelled over to him, “Hey, Jet, what the hell is this