Free A Kiss Like This by Sara Ney Page A

boobs out.
    Molly taps her chin thoughtfully and loops her arm through Jenna’s. “I think we should mingle, don’t you ladies? This corner is getting boring. Let’s go chat with the guys.” She jerks her head, indicating the group of guys Weston is standing in the middle of, holding court.
    I can see him gesturing wildly from here, animated, obviously in the middle of a story. A funny story too, if the laughter surrounding him is any indication.
    Before I know it, I’m being pulled through the crowd by my two determined friends, toward a crowd of boys with whom I’m hardly familiar, let alone comfortable with. I mean, besides Weston. It’s all I can do to not dig my heels into the carpet to stop myself from being propelled forward by my wobbly arms, strong-armed against my will by both Jenna and Molly.
    I want to stomp my feet like a baby and run out of this house.
    I make a mental list of things I could be doing right now if I weren’t being dragged in a struggle cuddle toward Caleb, whose broad back is facing me, and I recite them in my head:
    1. Study for my mid-terms, which are in a few short weeks.
    2. Clean the bathroom toilet.
    3. Watch Game of Thrones on Demand. Again. For the twelfth time.
    4. Hide under my covers.
    5. Hide under my covers.
    I don’t know about you, but I’m quite partial to numbers four and five.

~ Caleb ~
    “Incoming!” Blaze announces at the top of his voice, hands cupped around his mouth to create a megaphone. “Girlfriend rapidly approaching,” he says to Weston.
    “And she’s dragging None of Your Damn Business behind her,” Stephan jokes. “Showtime, your lover looks like she’s about to barf. Maybe you should take her upstairs and introduce her to your big, cold, empty bed.”
    Luckily, I’ve already tossed back about five beers—which, combined with my large six foot three frame, hasn’t made me drunk, but it has given me a decent buzz and taken the edge off.
    I ignore Stephan.
    Feigning indifference to his barb, I reach up and readjust my ball cap, turning the brim so it faces the back of my head, and hold the brim in my palms, squeezing it to reshape the bill. I lower my hands at the same time a warm body is shoved, stumbling, into our circle. Molly and the girl with the purple hair tactlessly propel Abby so she’s standing directly in front of me.
    Someone else gives her a gentle push until she’s faltering, tripping into my personal space. Instinctively, my palms shoot out to stop her from falling, settling on her slim waist to steady her.
    Shit .
    I jerk my hands back, body stiffening from the invasion of my boundaries. But then I look down into the crown of Abby’s long, straight, rich brown hair; it’s shiny and silky and I kind of want to touch it.
    Goddamn. Beer .
    She turns her entire body then to face me, mere inches away, tilting her head and biting her lip, mortified. Her hands flutter about her helplessly, fingertips accidentally brushing my chest. Once. Twice.
    “I am so s-sorry. This is so embarrassing. My friends are… they…”
    “Are assholes?” I have to bend down so she can hear me, practically whispering in her ear. “Mine are too. Clearly.”
    Her body shivers and she nods, biting her lip before whipping her head toward the group, the action kicking up a subtle flowery scent.
    My nostrils flare.
    Shit. I can smell her damn hair.
    I don’t know if it’s the five beers I’ve had, or the music, or the amount of people crammed into the place, but it’s fucking with my common sense. So much so that I give myself permission to lean forward and deeply inhale her loose strands.
    It must have been a long, loud whiff, because Abby turns to confront me. “Did you just smell my hair ?” Her eyes are wide with disbelief, and I can tell by her dilated pupils that she’s had a few too many drinks herself.
    “Uh…” I hesitate a heartbeat too long and consider lying. “Yes?”
    As if it were possible, her clear blue eyes widen farther,