Love and Fame Games (Book 1)

18

"Oh my God! Look at what she did!" The girl whose shoes I just ruined wailed.

I blinked a few times to clear my vision, and then wiped my mouth on the sleeve of what I realized a split-second later was Matt's jacket. I took it off and handed it back to its owner, who took it with some reluctance and held it at arm's length. "Sorry," I told him.

"You are not! You did this on purpose!" The girl answered for Matt, stamped her foot, and then made a face.

I scoffed. "Why would I?"

"How should I know? But how else would you explain only getting sick on meee?"

"You're the only one dumb enough to get in my way."

A shocked expression crossed her face. She probably wasn't used to being spoken to in that manner, especially by someone so common. "Who is this person, anyway? Why isn't anyone throwing her out?"

Throw me out? Of what? This wasn't one of their private, man-made, paradise islands. These Adamson brats thought they owned everything. Their sense of entitlement made me want to throw up on her again.

"She's with us," Seth replied.

"Whatever," the girl said, and then, more sweetly, added, "take me home, babe."

This would've been the very last words she'd ever utter if I hadn't looked up then to see that she had left Seth's side and was in fact talking to her original boyfriend.

The guy sneered. "No way you're getting in my Ferrari in those shoes." He turned to Seth. "You guys suck ass and by this time tomorrow, the whole world's gonna know it."

With that parting shot, he stormed off. His girlfriend trailed after him, alternating between cooing sweetly and calling him babe, and going ew ew ew every step she took—which gave me great satisfaction. When they were gone, an older guy approached our group. He had nice features but had too much of a sleazebag-thing going to be good-looking. This was Shane, Off-Kilter's handler.

"Well done, lads," he said in a weird accent. "So glad you settled that in a peaceful manner. These folks could make things real unpleasant for us if things had gotten out of hand. The important thing is, everyone's fine."

"Excuse me?" I pointed at Seth, whose bottom lip had some blood pooling at one corner and was starting to swell. "Does that seem fine to you?"

"Who's this, then?" Shane asked.

"I swear to God, if just one more person asks me that . . ." My eyes watered and I wiped my nose with my hand. I already felt bad enough without being constantly reminded about what a nobody I was.

Seth touched my shoulder lightly. "You okay, Adrian?" I shrugged him off and he turned to Matt.

"How'd this happen? What did you do?" Seth asked, sounding angry.

"Don't look at me, man," Matt said. "Maybe it was you. Seriously, making a move on someone else's girl is pretty sickening—"

"Look who's talking—"

"He didn't do anything," Tristan said, his pleasant tone indicating that he was, as usual, oblivious to the tension around him. "That chick pretty much attacked all our faces."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah right. Even you?"

"Can you blame her?" Tristan grinned. "I mean, look at me."

"Are you trying to make me sick again?"

"Hey that's on you. It's not my fault you weren't careful and didn't pace yourself. It's an Adamson party . . . you should've known they wouldn't be serving the watered down crap you're all used to."