Hard to Get by Emma Carlson Berne Page A

patio.
    â€œOut of my way!” he yelled. He lowered his head and ran full speed through the doorway, pumping his arms like an Olympic sprinter. From my position by the drinks table, I could just glimpse the back of his shirt disappearing in a splash of water as he jumped, fully clothed, into the pool.
    About two feet away, a couple I didn’t recognize was stretched full-length on a wide leather sofa. The girl kept trying to kiss the guy’s neck, but he was concentratingon stuffing chips into his mouth while lying down. I personally might find that a turnoff, but the girl apparently didn’t. As I watched, she abandoned her efforts to give him the world’s biggest hickey and instead focused on unbuttoning his shirt.
    I turned back to the drinks table, which already looked like someone had driven a truck over it, and poked around for a clean cup, finally finding a few hiding under a pile of spilled corn chips.
    â€œVal!”
    I turned around. Kelly was standing behind me, clutching a bona fide Greek god by the sleeve. He looked like he could have been carved from marble.
    â€œThis is Craig,” Kelly said. “He goes to Our Lady of Mercy.”
    â€œWow, hi, Val.” The god smiled devastatingly.
    I wasn’t sure exactly what the “wow” was for since I wasn’t feeling particularly “wow,” but hey, maybe this guy was into the boring look.
    â€œHey,” I replied. I couldn’t help smiling at him in return.
    Kelly released the Greek god’s arm as if planting him there and took a step back.
    â€œCan I get you a drink, Val?” the god asked. He was standing so close I could smell his Acqua di Parma cologne. And let me tell you, it wasn’t at all unpleasant.
    â€œSure,” I murmured, looking into his eyes. I could feel a little smile creeping over my lips.
    He reached over and gently took the plastic cup from my hand, then slowly filled it with Diet Coke from an almost-empty two liter. He handed the brimming cup of soda to me along with another blinding white grin.
    â€œThanks,” I murmured, accepting the cup and automatically edging closer to him. I smiled into his big brown eyes. “Are you going to have a drink too?” I asked, raising my eyebrows a little and curling the edges of my mouth up in a way that never failed.
    â€œSure,” he breathed.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kelly standing a few feet away, watching the two of us intently and grinning widely. In the back of my mind, a little alarm bell rang faintly, but the presence of the living, breathing deity was just too distracting.
    I sipped from the cup and then offeredit to the god. He was just reaching out his hand when a voice exploded in my ear.
    â€œHey there!”
    I jumped and dropped the cup of soda, which splashed all over the Greek god’s Diesel jeans, spreading a large wet patch over his crotch—a really unfortunate place for a stain.
    â€œCrap!” he yelled, jumping back. Becca was standing next to me, apparently having shot up through the floor, breathing like she’d just run a 5K. She looked from the Greek god, now gazing hopelessly at his
sopping pants, to me standing wide-eyed with my fingers still clutched in the shape of the cup.
    â€œVal!” Becca exclaimed. “What are you doing?” She stared at me hard, her eyebrows raised.
    â€œUh,” I stammered. “Um, doing?” Darn it! Three hours into the GNBP and I was already screwing it up. Next to her, Kelly had dropped the Cheshire cat grin and was mopily scraping dirty cups into a trash bag.
    â€œYes,” Becca enunciated. “Doing.”
    â€œOh! Doing! ” I glanced at the Greek god. “Right. Um, nothing?” I bared my teeth at her ingratiatingly.
    â€œThat’s right.” She nodded, taking me by the arm. “Nothing is the right answer. Come on—look, C.J. has just gotten here and she’s wearing the sluttiest shirt