Capture the Moment (Moments #1)

3. Cleo

three

Cleo

The Uber pulls up to a medium-sized gray craftsman-style house littered with students, blaring loud music. People are scattered everywhere–some on the porch, others on the lawn. Georgia squeezes my hand as if to reassure me that we’re going to be fine as we approach the front door.

I hadn’t even noticed we’d been holding hands but the small squeeze does its job and I almost instantly feel better. It’s not every day that a hot guy invites me to a party…

What if everyone thinks I’m weird?

The girl dressed like a pink Teletubby with bows…

Ugh, this self-hatred has to end, but when? I haven’t stopped hating myself since that night and I don’t think that I ever will. Nothing could ever stop me from hating myself after what I’d done.

As we enter the house, the warm and ragged smells of alcohol and weed engulf me. There’s loud rap music blasting from the speakers and we have to push our way through the crowds of people, but still, I couldn’t help but notice that the house is strangely clean.

There were no weird stains from God knows what. Zero holes in the wall. Most of the drinks made their way on coasters…

What kind of college party is this?

The main wall in the living room is decorated with vinyl records and trophies in a neat array. There are small plants along shelves in the hallway and little LEGO sets placed in random spots throughout the downstairs. My eye catches on a large photograph of Sir Ruffskers, Jace’s scary ass Pomeranian back at home, and I cringe at my memories of running from the animal.

Despite the current hazy state from the smokers in here, you can tell the guys are pretty neat.

“They’re super neat for men!” Georgia replies to the statement I hadn’t known I’d spoken aloud as we make our way to the cooler, I grab a water while she gets a can of Sam Adams.

“You’d think this place would look like a pigsty, especially with guys living here” I joke although I don’t believe myself.

Jace Heart is probably the tidiest man I’ve ever met in my entire life. In middle school, I once colored outside the line in one of his adult coloring books (that he has because he’s a dweeb) and he nearly castrated me.

I don’t know if that’s possible since I’m a girl and all but I will never give Jace the opportunity to find out if it is.

“Ugh do not speak of that devil in my presence, Cleo. I’m trying to have a good night without seeing him.” Georgia groans as if this subject is her least favorite topic.

But I know the truth. Georgia loves Jace—platonically, of course. But she loves him nonetheless and it’s obvious to me. She can never get enough of the idiot no matter how much she tries to act like she hates him.

“You love—”

Georgia’s phone dinging interrupts me as her face brightens. “Hold that thought, Darius just got here… I’m going to go meet up with him. Be right back.” And with that, she’s gone.

In the blink of an eye, I’ve been ditched for a 6’2” football players dick.

She’d lasted a good...six minutes.

Looking around the empty sitting room that I found myself in, the air grows thick as realization settles in.

The one person that I knew is gone.

I haven’t seen Jace or even his handsome friend yet, and fuck is it hot in here? I need something sweet, something to take my mind from this sudden heat that I’m feeling .

My feet feel as if they’re being controlled by a toddler as I stumble my way into the kitchen. I’m instantly relieved to see it’s empty. My vision tunnels and my feet stagger as I move toward the walk-in pantry. My mouth curves as I open the door only to drop back down.

What the fuck is this?

Chia seeds?

Whole grain granola?

Protein Penne Noodles?!

Where the fuck is the sugar? The goodies? Why is there only healthy food here? Is that… Oh my God. Who in their right mind is eating Cookies and Cream flavored sea moss?

I’m going to hurl.

This is preposterous on so many levels. Not only are there zero sweets, but the sweets these lunatics have are healthy .

“Where the fuck is the sugar?” I groan, moving over various forms of protein pasta before putting them back in their rightful spot.

“It’s not kept in there,” a humored voice calls back.

“Well, obviously. Help me look, I really need something sweet to bring me down.” My tone is clipped, and I could honestly care less how rude I must seem. I think I’m going to go crazy if I don’t get some semblance of sugar in me soon.

Who in their right minds eats Cookies and Cream sea moss when they're trying to get drunk?

“Such a princess…” The man chuckles, and with my back still to him, I chuck up the middle finger. That shot of tequila from earlier is definitely giving me more confidence than I usually have. The man sniffs a laugh as he says, “Third cabinet on the bottom left, there’s a bag of powdered donuts and a few different types of cookies down there.”

I sigh, turning to face my intruder more annoyed than happy he’d helped.

“I would’ve found them eventually,” I say, taking a step closer to the tall man. Recognition slowly dawns on me as I stare at the handsome guy in front of me. I hadn’t paid him any attention earlier, I’d only been able to catch a glimpse then, and could feel his stare on me. But now that he's standing in front of me, he’s all that my eyes can focus on and I am not complaining.

He has the most beautiful baby blue eyes that I’ve ever seen. They’re cloudy like a summer beach day right before a storm with hints of gray and black swirling in his irises. His face is every artist's wet dream—angular and symmetrical like a Greek God. I almost smile at the slight shift in his nose, it’d been nearly perfect but up close you can tell he’d probably broken it before. He smirks down at me, eyes glowing with something I can’t quite place, and then he’s stepping even closer into my space.

“Two pairs of eyes will always better than one.” He shrugs mockingly whilst giving me those same weird eyes.

Are those…are those fuck me eyes?

No. Nope. Uh-uh.

Can’t do this, especially not with this one, he seems like trouble. Trouble so fun it’ll have you crying on your knees as he takes you from—

NO.

Stop clit-thinking, Cleo, and get a grip. I should’ve thanked him for finding me something to munch on, and then side-stepped him and went about my merry little way.

Instead, I say, “Does that work on all the girls?” in a voice I can barely recognize as my feet propel me closer to the large man.

His eyes, so full of expression, are brimming with humor and intrigue as he chuckles lightly.

“No, but I thought I’d give it a try with you…I’m Blake, by the way, and you are?” he asks, holding out a hand as if we hadn’t seen each other earlier at The Sugar Hole.

“Not interested,” I say, donning the fakest sweet smile I can muster. I didn’t come to this school to fall for another athlete, and based on his build, I’d say he was either into football or boxing. Two sports that I want nothing to do with. For one, Ryan, my stepbrother, would kill me. And for two, I don’t do athletes anymore. Show me an engineering major or a tech guy, and I’m your girl .

As I turn on my silver heels, goosebumps litter my arms as a warm hand clasps around my upper arm sending shockwaves down my spine. My head whips to Blake and I nearly double over in laughter at the scared puppy look he has.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to grab you like that.” He scratches his neck, his cheeks reddening as he looks at his feet. The man who is probably around 6’4” looks like a dejected golden retriever as his eyes wander everywhere but me.

With a small chuckle, I brush it off. “You’re fine but, don’t just grab women without their permission. Now you have to get me a drink for the inconvenience,” I say with a smirk.

Who is this suddenly confident woman, and what has she done with the Cleo Jones that uses her brain?

Blake’s eyes widen as he stumbles and rummages the cabinets for different cocktail ingredients. I mentally capture a picture of the man as he pulls out a pink mug from the cabinet, confidently using it for his concoction.

He turns his back to me to make it before smiling coyly as he slides it to me; I look down at the dark drink and gulp before putting it up to my lips, and nearly die from whatever the fuck he put in it. It tastes like Pink Whitney and regrets. I sit the cup down as I let out a small cough.

“Never make me a drink ever again… That was one of the worst things I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“Well, what was the worst?” He teases, eyes glinting with mischief as he slides closer, taking up my space.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” The words slip from my mouth quicker than a cheetah capturing its prey.

“Oh, there’s a lot I’d like to know, Cleo .”

Wait… I didn’t…

My shock must be written across my face because he simply chuckles.

“I heard Jace call you that earlier, so I’m assuming that’s your name.” He shrugs.

“Oh, so you’re a sugar hoggin’ creeper, is that it?” I ask teasingly and I’m surprisingly unalarmed by the fact that the stranger had known me. Instead, it felt comforting. Like there was someone that I didn’t have to go through the motions of introducing myself to and slowly becoming friends with. Instead, he felt like he was already a friend.

“I’d like to think of myself as a handsome sugar hoggin’ observer , Cleo. You can call me whatever you want, Princess, but make sure you add ‘handsome’ to the front of it” He smirks cockily as I roll my eyes.

“Princess?”

“You look like one, and from what I saw earlier, you dress like one too.” He shrugs as if that’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I don’t even notice that the party is slowly dying down as he and I continue talking for what feels like five minutes. When I check the time my heart drops realizing it’s been over an hour.

“What is it?” He asks standing over me, his voice is soft and somewhat concerned as the masculine scents of cedarwood and vanilla crowd my senses. My brain fogs as I inhale deeply.

“Huh?” My voice is breathy as I look up at him, my bark-colored eyes clashing with his ocean colored ones.

My belly heats, sending spirals through my whole body as I crane my neck to get a better look at him. His stare is so imploring as if he’s searching my entire soul, picking me apart.

“You’re eyes are so—”

“Come on, Wilder! It’s drunk Jenga time! Bring her too.”