Slider by Stacy Borel Read Free Book Online Page A

he had died. It really did make me want to roll my eyes. But it also plagued me with intrigue.
    Just as I was about to pry my inquisitive eyes away from Turner, Keegan pointed in the direction I was standing. Oh for the love of God, I wanted to hide. What was she doing? I started to twist around to look at the other three girls. Maybe she was pointing at them. But then I saw a small tilt of Turner’s mouth rise. There was no denying that he was looking directly at me. He gave me one sharp nod and then looked down at Keegan without waiting for me to nod back. That small acknowledgement was enough to cause a case of butterflies to rise up in my tummy.
    Feeling frustrated by my reaction, I decided to make my way over to the others to see if they could distract me. Macie was hanging all over some guy that looked like he just came from the beach and . . . oh my God is he really wearing a Hawaiian shirt? Ugh, she must be really trashed if she thought this one was a winner. As I approached Erin and Jordan they grinned at me and asked if I was having a good time. I gave them an overly enthusiastic thumbs up. They must have either believed me or didn’t know me well enough to realize I was feeling out of place. I awkwardly stood with the three of them and the beach bum for about ten minutes when I felt a light tapping on my shoulder. I twisted around and saw a cute waitress with a tray in her hand a vibrant blue drink sitting in the middle of it.
    She picked the glass up and handed it to me. “Compliments of the gentleman.” She pointed in the direction of Turner.
    Keegan was nowhere around him. I didn’t give any thought to where she could have run off too. Instead I found myself watching him as he eyed me from across the room. I tentatively took the glass from her hand and didn’t bother saying thank you before she walked away. I watched with a raised brow as Turner lifted his own drink in the air as if to toast to me, then sipped it with a smile. I felt irritated that he was presumptuous enough to have a drink sent over to me. Only overly cocky men did this kind of crap. When he brought his glass away from his mouth, he regarded me, waiting for me to take a drink of my own. I had two choices. I could down the drink and try to act smooth and unfazed. Or I could hand it over to one of the girls, giving him the brush off, and try to ignore him for the rest of the night. Option two seemed appealing, however the shot I’d taken from earlier mixed with the Xanax was making me feel a little braver than normal. Option one it was. The ice clinked in the glass as I brought it up to my lips. Taking a small sip, a cold citrus flavor washed down my throat, bathing my tongue in a delicious tropical mix. Mmm, it was good. Damn it! Maybe if I drank it slowly enough, the ice would melt and dilute it. I already had that warm sensation your legs get when you know the alcohol is doing its job. I took another sip of the little blue cocktail and decided I liked it.
    I didn’t want to down the drink too quickly. Not just because I needed to keep my wits about me, but also because I wanted to savor it. There were a dozen women in this room that would fall over backwards if Turner gave them the slightest bit of attention, and for whatever reason, he was giving it to me. I knew the reality of the situation. I was a challenge. I’d turned him down. I was like Mount Everest and he saw me as something to conquer. Men loved a good game. It didn’t matter though. I wasn’t the hungry, little fish ready to devour the worm. If he thought I was, he was in the wrong damn pond. So I’d take his drink, allow the delectable flavor to wash through me, and I’d go about my business. Meeting his stare, I tipped my head in thanks, then turned away. I refused to give him any other acknowledgement.
    Funny how that was my resolve, but over the course of the next half hour, I’d swallowed the last drop and I found myself dancing in a sea of people I didn’t know.