The Impact of You. Kendall Ryan

this is doing absolutely fucking nothing for me. I attempt a smile, but my face feels tight and unnatural. I grip her arms and haul her up, bending to whisper near her ear. ‘Sorry, baby. Not tonight.’ Disappointment crosses her features, but she nods, and walks away.

      A year ago this would have been my favorite way to spend a Saturday night. Girls? Check. Drinking? Check. Raging party with my friends? Double Check. Not so much anymore. I don’t miss drinking too much and waking up next to someone I can’t remember.

      But the main reason this holds no appeal? I was plastered the night I got the call from my dad last semester. I had to wait until morning before attempting the three-hour drive home to see my mom, all pale and gray in that hospital bed. After spending a tortured night, shattered without any way to fix it, drinking becomes a far less important priority.

      My best friend Trey leans over. ‘Damn man, you don’t even have to try. It’s like you set off some radar that attracts them. Come. Fuck. Me,’ he says in a robotic voice.

      I shove his shoulder. ‘Shut up, you know it’s not my fault.’

      ‘No, the superior genetics bred into you by the Congressman and the MILF ensure you get ass easily and often.’ He shakes his head. ‘Fucking lucky bastard.’

      I chuckle, brushing off his comment. The truth is I didn’t ask for the attention, and I rarely sleep around anymore. But I’d earned my reputation during my freshman and sophomore years banging pretty much every girl in sight. And now I don’t do much to dispel the rumors. It’s nice, though, not be on the outs with one guy or another in the house because of whose girlfriend or sister I’d slept with. I’m actually enjoying the reprieve.

      I look up and spot a pretty dark-haired girl in the corner. She isn’t dressed like the other girls here – her tits and ass aren’t on display—and strangely it makes her even more attractive. Her eyes widen and she forces a smile. It’s obvious this isn’t her scene.

      I take comfort knowing I’m not the only one faking it tonight. She’s not the type of girl the old me would’ve bothered with. Meaning her panties aren’t ready to drop to her knees at my command. But somehow that only makes me more interested. She tugs at the hem of her pink shirt, looking ready to flee.

      ‘Just wanted to warn you…Stacia’s here and was looking for you earlier,’ Trey says.

      Shit fuck. ‘Just what I wanted to deal with tonight. Drunk Stacia.’ Sloppy Stacia, crying Stacia, horny Stacia, take your pick. She’s usually at least one, if not all of the above.

      ‘You guys broken up again?’

      ‘For good this time.’

      He raises his glass in a mock salute. ‘Stay strong, man.’

      I plan to. We’ve broken up and gotten back to together so many times, I don’t know which way is up with that girl. We dated for a year. Why? I couldn’t tell you. I never liked her personality, but I did like her body. Still do, if I’m being honest. And she always shared that with me freely. But hanging out, listening to her talk about inconsequential bullshit… gah, even the sound of her voice frays my nerves.

      I glance around the room, looking for the pretty dark-haired girl again. Not spotting her, I lean back against the wall so I can see into the kitchen. People fill pretty much every square inch of the kitchen, living and dining rooms – the only rooms we keep unlocked during parties. And the line for the bathroom is too long, so she couldn’t have gone in there. Considering her friends are still dancing in the center of the living room, spilling beer onto our already disgusting carpeting, I know she’s not far. That girl looks far too innocent to be wandering around a frat house alone. Damn. I hand Trey my beer and go off in search of her.

      I step onto the back deck, and it’s so dark out, I don’t see her at first. The moon is just a sliver and she’s facing away from me, sitting on the bottom step. Reddish-brown hair cascades over her shoulders, falling nearly to her waist and blending in against the dark sky. Her back stiffens at the sound of the music flooding the peaceful night. I close the sliding glass door behind me, muting the noise but not blocking it out completely.

      The T.I. song playing inside is about giving her whatever she’d like. A testament I currently share, looking at this pretty little thing in front of me.

      She turns and catches my eyes. Her expression isn’t the reaction I’m expecting. She seems mildly annoyed…bothered by my presence. It’s not the usual effect I have on females.

      ‘You shouldn’t be out here alone.’ I take a step closer.

      ‘Why, are you planning on trying something? Because I can scream really loud.’

      The old me would’ve made some comment about getting her sexy ass in my bed to see exactly how loud I could make her scream, but somehow I know she’s not looking for me to be that guy. It’s refreshing. I move closer to her into the cool night air, relieved that I don’t have to put on the smooth guy act.

      ‘Can I join you?’ I ask.

      She eyes me carefully, her gaze lingering a moment too long. For a second I wonder if she’s going to say no. I can’t remember the last time a girl said no to me. She chews on her lip, trying to read me, then clasps her hands together in her lap. ‘You can stay, if you behave yourself.’

      I chuckle softly. What was she expecting me to do? She either has major trust issues, or she’s caught wind of my reputation. ‘Do you have mace on you? Maybe a rape whistle tucked under your shirt?’

      Her eyes narrow slightly. ‘Ha, ha,’ she says dryly.

      I sink to the bottom step beside her and suddenly question what the hell I’m doing out here with her. This girl is sure as fuck too sweet for me to mess around with. But I know that isn’t what I want tonight. If it was, I’d be upstairs in my bedroom with the blond from earlier, and maybe her brunette friend too.

      ‘I’m Jase.’ I extend my hand toward her.

      She looks at it, but makes no move to give me hers.

      ‘I’ll just call you Whistle if you don’t tell me your name.’

      Her eyes are still blazing on mine as she straightens her shoulders. ‘If you’re trying to pick me up, save us both the time. My answer’s no.’

      My shoulders vibrate with a soft laugh. ‘Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, Whistle? I wasn’t going to ask you out, but your little speech was cute.’

      She fixes her mouth in a tight line. ‘My name’s Avery.’

      I’ve never met an Avery. The name is pretty, and unique – just like her. Her makeup is natural, subtle compared to the high sheen gloss of the blond’s lips from earlier. She’s pretty but not overdone.

      ‘I haven’t seen you here before.’

      ‘That’s because I don’t typically come to these things.’

      She picks up her cup of beer, but doesn’t drink from it. It’s like she needs something to do with her hands. I know the feeling. I feel oddly clumsy and unsure around her – not something I’m used to.

      I don’t need to ask why she doesn’t come to frat parties. It’s obvious this isn’t her scene. ‘Do you need another drink?’

      She shakes her head. ‘Who am I kidding? I’m not going to drink this.’ She dumps the contents of the cup into the grass before setting the empty cup beside her.

      ‘Not a fan of beer? I think I could find you something else if you want it…’

      ‘I’m not a fan of drinking, really.’ Her voice is soft, like there’s some faraway memory pulling at her attention.

      Now that I’ve turned to face her, I can’t look away. Her eyes are a mesmerizing shade of green and her hair looks faintly red when it catches the light. She has soft, delicate features, high cheek bones, a full mouth and pretty wide-set eyes.