All For You (Boys of the South) by Marquita Valentine, The 12 NAs of Christmas

Chapter One

    West
    There’s a
reason why I haven’t been back to a party in Forrestville since
I started college, and she’s staring at me from across the
room.
    I hadn’t
expected to see McKenzie Walsh here. Although, I had planned to see
her at some point. Judging by the look on her gorgeous face, she’s
equal parts angry and surprised by my appearance.
    But then the
unthinkable happens, anger gives way to indifference. Her pointed
little chin tips up in the air and she turns away, dismissing me.
    Five years ago, that
very move would have made me tenacious in my quest to get her to
notice me. To make sure that she unequivocally knew her very
existence at Forrestville High depended on my benevolence. Like I was
some kind of god.
    Shame washes over
me, and I feel sick to my stomach. The cold beer in my hand, one of
the perks for coming tonight, looks about as appetizing as the condom
I’d seen lying on the grass by the poolhouse.
    “West Diaz in
da HOUSE!” one of my old soccer teammates yells, cupping his
hand over his mouth. He grabs the nearest chick and smacks her ass.
“WEST DOG!”
    A few guys start
barking.
    Barely managing to
suppress an eye roll, I lift up my cup in salute and follow with a
chin nod. Someone bumps my arm, jostling my red solo cup. Beer
sloshes over the rim, onto my hand.
    “Damn it,”
I growl, wiping my hand on my jeans.
    “Having fun
yet?” my buddy, Parker Morgan, asks. He gives me his usual
smile, one that’s this side of a smirk. It had been my idea to
come here, not his. In all the years we’ve been friends, he has
never come to one of these parties, because he either had to work or
had family stuff, but a big part of me suspects that he never liked
my group of friends.
    A girl rushes past
me, then freezes and pukes in a potted plant. Something crashes to
the floor. The music gets louder and my head actually begins to ache.
I search for McKenzie, but she’s disappeared.
    I exhale. “Let’s
go.” There’s no real reason to be at this party. Coming
was nothing more than a habit.
    A bad one at that.
    Parker visibly
relaxes as I set my cup down and start for the front of the house.
“We can go to my place or The Double D. Cole’s being
weird right now and he’s home with Kelly, so you might want to
opt for The Double D.”
    I slice him a
glance. “You want to go hang out at work, while you’re
off work?”
    “Practically
lived there growing up. Why should things change now?” he
jokes, only with him—every joke’s really a statement. But
I learned a long time ago not to push it. If Park wants to talk, he
will, but because we’re dudes, he won’t.
    Shrugging into my
jacket, I zip up the front and reach for the front door. It opens and
we automatically step back. Two girls walk in, one I recognize and
the other I will never forget.
    “McKenzie,”
I say and her lips thin. “I thought you left.”
    I try to take in all
of her, but end up getting flashes: Lush lips. Mile long legs.
Perfect chest. Pretty grey eyes.
    Those pretty eyes
widen for a fraction of a second, and then her chin tips up. Again. “So I’m not allowed here?”
    “Yes. I mean,
no.” Oh yeah. This is going great.
    Her eyes narrow even
more. “It’s not your house, Weston.”
    “That’s
not what I meant.” I hold up my hands. “I was surprised
to see you… twice.”
    McKenzie says
nothing, only crosses her arms over her chest. This would be a great
time to apologize and leave. Quick, easy, to-the-point, and all this
guilt I’ve been carrying would be gone.
    But I can’t.
The words are lodged in my throat.
    Parker coughs and
McKenzie’s best friend, Julia Thompkins, glares at him. No help
there.
    “Um, well, you
see…” Smooth,
Diaz. Real smooth. “It’s not my party, but I wouldn’t think you’d
want to be—”
    “With the same
people who threw clumps of sod at me, like a really bad Carrie remake
the last time I was at a party like this?” McKenzie asks. She’s
all defiant now,