Page 3 of Masquerade Mistake

“Seriously? That place is full of drunk people in masks, plus a weird dinosaur. I’m here with the prettiest girl from the party. Why would I want to leave?”

I ducked my head at the compliment, but he reached over and tilted my chin toward him.

“You don’t think you’re pretty?” he asked.

“I mean, I don’t think I’m ugly,” I said. “But I don’t exactly have people lined up to date me.”

Make that zero people. I mean, I’d had boyfriends, but not a lot of luck with them. There was my first boyfriend my sophomore year, but dates with him were hanging in his bedroom trying to fend off his roaming hands. Then there was the guy in my junior year who pressured me to put out for three months until he finally gave up trying. He dumped me for someone who would. And my most recent boyfriend, Jed Thomas, took me to senior prom and thought my cherry was his reward for the night. He stopped speaking to me after that night.

A count of three strikes. And there I was, the day of my senior graduation, my virginity still intact. It wasn’t that I was saving myself for anything. It was just that, when it came down to it, I felt like there needed to be some kind of spark. The only three guys who had tried were just…boring. No substance. Their minds only on one thing.

I peeked over at the masked guy next to me, and he was looking at me like I was completely crazy.

“What?” I asked, a nervous giggle escaping my lips.

“Just that…you have to know how beautiful you are. I mean, doesn’t your boyfriend tell you?”

I laughed hard at this. “Wow,” I said once I caught my breath, “that was smooth. I guess this is the part where I tell you I don’t have a boyfriend, and where I ask what your girlfriend would think of you sitting here, flirting with me.”

His grin intensified. He leaned a little closer. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said. His hand slipped forward, then took mine. “So, mystery single girl, tell me…why are you leaving Sunset Bay, and what will you do at UCSD?”

For the next hour, I told him everything about me—except my name. I told him I was going as an English major, partly because I was good at it and partly because it was versatile, but mostly just to see somewhere new that wasn’t too far from home. I would still be in SoCal, but hours away. I told him how I spent my days, which lately was just cleaning house and reading books, the latter of the two being my favorite way to pass the time. He never once asked me about my family, which I was grateful for. I wish I’d thought to do the same, because when I did, his expression darkened.

“It’s just my mom,” he finally said, and both of us left it at that.

He told me about his job waiting tables, and his hopes to one day own his own restaurant. I asked if he cooked, and he shrugged.

“I’m not bad at it,” he said, the same way I’d said I wasn’t ugly. It let me know that he was probably great at it.

I learned that he had already graduated from my high school last year, had been away at college in Denver, but was now on break. He’d heard about the party through a friend and thought it sounded fun.

“Be honest, you were just there to pick up chicks, weren’t you?” I nudged his shoulder, and he nudged mine right back.

“Mission accomplished,” he joked. But then he turned serious, “Okay, honestly, I was there for a hookup. But when I offered you a ride home, that was literally all I was offering. I’m not trying to hook up with you.”

“Oh.” I slide my hand from his, then regret my reaction. I was stupidly giving myself away. And over what? Because the guy didn’t want to have a casual fling in the front seat of his car? I had spent my whole dating life fending off casual flings. And now I was disappointed?

“Hey there, Sparky, that’s not what I meant.” He reached over and took my hand again, waiting until I finally looked at him. “You’re fucking hot, probably way out of my league. I would nail you if I thought I had half a chance, I didn’t want you to think that was the only reason I rescued you from that party.”

“God, you must think I’m so pathetic.” My cheeks felt flush, my ears burning. “I–”

But I didn’t get to say another word, because his mouth was on mine. My mind took a while to catch up, but my body knew exactly what to do. I met each draw of his tongue, each way his teeth tugged at my lip and I nipped at his. My hands found his neck and his found my waist, and when I finally came to my senses, I realized I was cupping his face as we spoke a new language into each other’s mouths.

This was what I was looking for. The spark. I didn’t know this guy—I didn’t even know his name—but I would be damned if I let this opportunity pass us by.

He was the one who stopped, like a brick wall in front of a racing stallion. I panted, feeling my core tighten with need in a way I’d never felt before.

“Keep going,” I pleaded. I was completely beyond trying to be coy. Just his kiss was making me desperate.

Our eyes locked as we breathed heavy within the confines of his car, and I recognized the same need reflected in his expression.

“How much did you drink?” he asked.

This time I wasn’t offended. I recognized the questions he wasn’t asking. Are you in the right frame of mind to say yes? Will you regret this tomorrow?

Would I? No. What I would regret is waking up tomorrow to the knowledge that, once again, Claire Myers had played it safe. I would regret going to college at the end of summer still a virgin, and possibly, just replaying my high school years in another location.

I would regret not taking a chance to do something a little reckless, even though I’d never been so sure about anyone in my entire life as this nameless, faceless boy in the seat next to me.