The Hot Guy Brigade surrounded me. A lot of people believed that the Hot Guy Brigade was a myth. Nothing more than a campus urban legend, kind of like the story about the homecoming queen who'd pitched herself out of one of the dorm windows because she was tripping balls on LSD or crack, or she had fallen in the shower and busted her head open or something. Who knew? The story changed every time I heard it, but unlike the supposed dead chick who haunted Gardiner Hall, the Hot Guy Brigade was a real living and breathing thing—several things to be exact. Several hot things. It was rare that they were all together nowadays, which is why they'd become sort of campus lore, but wow-wee, when they got together, it was a whole lot of eye candy.
And it was probably the closest to perfection I'd ever get in my lifetime—that and the miracle makeup called Dermablend, because it almost covered the scar on my face.
We were all piled into Avery Morgansten's apartment. Based on the rock on her ring finger, she was well on her way to getting a last-name change, and although I didn't know her well, really didn't know anyone except Teresa, I was happy for her. Anytime I'd been around her, she was always sweet. She could be a little quiet sometimes and seemed to disappear into her own head, but anyone could tell she and her fiancé, Cameron Hamilton, were deeply in love by the way they watched each other.
Like the way he was watching her now, as if there were no other woman in the world but her. Even though they were sitting together, Cam on the couch and Avery in his lap, those bright blue eyes were fixed on her as she laughed at something his sister Teresa said.
If I had to rank the Hot Guy Brigade, I'd say that Cam was the president. It wasn't just his looks, but also his personality. No one felt odd or left out around him. He had this warmth that was absolutely contagious.
Secretly, and I’d totally take it to my grave, I envied Avery. I barely even knew her, but I coveted what she had—the gorgeous hot guy, who was also genuinely a good guy, who still could make you feel comfortable around him. That was rare.
“Want another drink?”
I dipped my head to the left and then back, toward the voice of Jase Winstead, and my breath caught a little. Here was the opposite of Cam—extremely good-looking, but totally did not make me feel comfy when my eyes locked with his deep gray ones. With his swarthy skin, longish brown hair, and almost unreal, model good looks, he’d be the lieutenant of the Hot Guy Brigade. He was by far the sexiest out of all of them, and he could be supersweet, like now, but he wasn’t as easygoing or charming as Cam, which was why Cam held top position.
“Nah, I’m good.” I raised my half-full bottle of beer I’d been sipping since I’d gotten there. “But thanks.”
He smiled and then moved off, circling his arms around Teresa’s waist. She cocked her head back against his chest as she placed her hands on his arms. His face softened.
Yeah, I was a wee bit envious of Teresa, too.
I’d never been in a serious relationship. There hadn’t been any dates in high school. The scar on my face had been a hell of a lot more vibrant then, something no miracle makeup could camouflage . . . and high school kids, yeah, they could be unforgiving when it came to very visible flaws. And even if someone could look past that, with the way my life had been back then, there hadn’t been room or time for a date let alone a relationship.
Then there had been Jonathan King. He was in my history class freshman year, really cute guy and we’d hit it off. For obvious reasons, I’d been reluctant to go out with him when he asked, but damn, he’d been persistent and I’d finally said yes.