K. Linde - Take Me for Granted

McAvoy flipped his drumstick in his hand and nodded. His shaggy blond hair fell into his eyes, and he swished it to the side. His green eyes were perpetually bloodshot from smoking too much weed. He was tall and lanky with an I-could-not-care-less attitude, but he always managed to mellow us out. “Killer. I need a beer.”

“Me, too,” I said, nodding at my bandmates and sticking a pick into the front pocket of my jeans.

“Beer first and then bitches,” Vin said. He clapped me on the back and made his way toward the stage door that exited to the bar.

As soon as the door opened, the screaming began. I smiled and ran a hand back through my dark brown hair. After the music, this was the best part. I lived and breathed the music, but damn, the chicks I would get from doing what I loved didn’t hurt a damn thing.

I followed the rest of the guys out the door, and I was immediately surrounded by a crowd of girls. I had my pick of the litter at this party. I liked when my biggest decision of the night was blonde or brunette. The Princeton crowd was one of the best. As smart as the chicks were, they would all act dumb and turn to putty in my hands.

Even though none of us had actually gone to Princeton, I considered the League our home base. Miller had hooked us up with a semiregular deal. Now that we all lived in the area, we would play shows every other week or so. We’d moved here from the Point Pleasant area after graduation and stayed. I wasn’t even from Jersey, like the other guys. My parents had relocated from Knoxville when I was ten. That was before shit had hit the fan.

A beer was passed to me almost instantly, and as I took a swig, I slung my arm around the closest girl to me. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Kimberly,” she peeped. Her tits bounced in her top as she pressed herself against me.

My mind wandered, and I started thinking about how fast I could get her out of that top and get those tits in my hands. She looked to be a handful, but I wouldn’t mind a little bit more to motorboat tonight. Maybe one of her friends. I scanned the other girls around her. I wasn’t that picky as long as they were hot.

“Well, Kimberly, do you know that girl right there?” I asked, pointing to a girl with a nicer rack.

“My friend, Kristin?”

“Kristin, darlin’, come on over here.” I crooked my finger at her.

Her eyes widened, and she jogged over. It was a beautiful sight.

“Oh my God, you’re Grant McDermott,” Kristin groaned. Her hands went to her chest as she bent her knees and stared up at me with big brown eyes.

“That I am.” I finished off my beer, and another appeared in my hand.

A second later, Miller and McAvoy showed up with a girl carrying a tray full of shots. After tossing back a couple, I decided to cut the small talk and get down to business. Neither girl protested.

Big Tits had her tongue down my throat before I’d even wrangled her and her friend into a corner. I knew the place wasn’t crowded enough to push the other chick to her knees, but the alcohol was kicking in, and I was contemplating it. It wouldn’t be the first time I got a blow job in the League. As if she’d read my mind, the chick started working on my belt buckle, and I just fisted her hair as a thank you. At least I knew how the night was going to go. One who sucks and one who fucks. Perfection.

“Bro!” Vin called.

I broke away from Big Tits long enough to send Vin a fuck-off look as he jogged up to where I was standing. “Kind of busy right now.”

Vin scoffed at me. “You can do better.”

The girls gasped. I took another look at them and wondered why they were acting all offended. Vin was probably right. I could do better, but I’d been heading toward something pretty nice.

Oh well. Later perhaps. I nodded my head at Vin. “Truth.”

“Pig,” Kimberly grumbled, standing swiftly. She grabbed Kristin’s hand, flipped me off, and dragged her away.

I bet they’d still fuck me if I asked.

“Sorry to cockblock, but I totally just drugged some chick,” Vin said, smiling like a total dope while crossing his arms over his chest.

“You just did what?” I furrowed my brow. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“So, look, I know this chick Cheyenne. She follows us around when we tour, and she brought her fucking hot roommates with her tonight. I picked one out, but she turned me down flat.”

My eyebrows shot up. I loved pussy as much as the next guy, but even I could admit that Vin was a good-looking guy. He had the Italian guido look going for him—tan skin, shaved head, and built like a tank.

“You finally meet a chick who says no, and your response is to slip something into her drink? What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t drug girls to get them to have sex with you. You move on to the next one. Seriously, Vin, you’re the fucking scum of the earth.”

“Yeah, bro. Are you just figuring this shit out?”

Vin cracked up, laughing at himself, and all I could do was shake my head at my bandmate’s insanity.

“You’re a fucking imbecile, Vin.”

He shrugged like he didn’t fucking care, but this was low, even for him. Although he couldn’t get any girl he wanted like I could, it just seemed unnecessary. Not to mention, adding date rape to his record sounded pretty shitty.

“Just take a look at this chick though, man.”

“All right, show me which piece of ass turned down my man.”

Vin pointed out a small blonde chick standing against a column surrounded by a few other girls, nursing a pint of beer. She looked completely out of place but coherent. I watched as she buttoned and unbuttoned the top of her cardigan. She didn’t seem to be showing any side effects I would assume she’d have if Vin had really drugged her. Actually, she just appeared really uptight and vigilant. She looked like a cork, and I wanted to be the corkscrew—uncap that pressure and help her explode.

“No wonder she turned you down. The girl has a boyfriend,” I told him automatically.

“She could be a closet nymph, and I bring out her inner sex kitten,” Vin said, raising an eyebrow.

“No way. Boyfriend. I’ll find out how serious it is.” I winked at Vin and then started walking over toward the girl.

“Bro!”

I turned back around with my signature smirk already fastened into place. I was ready to go in for the kill.

“You actually going to give her to me, man?” Vin asked, concerned.

“Sure. After I’m done with her.”

I heard Vin cussing me out, but I tuned him out as I was striding toward the blonde. Vin wouldn’t mind sloppy seconds. Plus, no one kept me interested very long anyway.

“Grant McDermott is walking over here,” Cheyenne whispered. “Grant McDermott is walking over here!” She grabbed Shelby’s arm and started bouncing up and down. Her curly red hair flounced all around her. She was tall, confident, and outgoing with a killer body to boot.

Gabi paced a little. Her blonde pixie cut was as unruly as ever. She was generally quiet and had a bit of an up-in-the-clouds personality, but I still loved her. “Oh my God, he’s so gorgeous.”

“I just can’t believe it.” Shelby swished her brown hair over her shoulder. “He looks even better up close.”

“Do I have to be the one to ask?” I messed with the button on my cardigan. “Who is Grant McDermott?”

All three girls turned and stared at me at once. Yeah, I guess I’m that person.

“What planet do you live on?” Cheyenne asked. “I mean, I know Benjamin just broke up with you, but I can’t believe it addled your brain that much.”

“Aw, that’s cute, Cheyenne. You think my brain is addled.” I let my dark blue eyes grow wide as I tried to play the innocent act through my sarcasm.

“Don’t even start with me,” Cheyenne snapped.

“All right. It doesn’t matter,” Shelby said, jumping between Cheyenne and me.

“Didn’t you watch the show, Aribel?” Gabi asked.

“Um…kind of?”

Okay…I hadn’t really been paying attention. I’d had no interest in attending the concert in the first place, so I’d been going over the calculus lecture from yesterday in my head while I sipped on my beer. This just wasn’t me. I preferred quiet places, like libraries, classrooms, and the privacy of my own room. Plus, the beer was disgusting. I’d just been staring at my new pint since that creepy guy had put something in it after I refused to suck his dick—his choice of words, not mine.

“Grant McDermott is the lead singer of ContraBand,” Cheyenne filled me in with an eye roll. “He’s practically the whole reason we show up. I can just see his fingers playing across that guitar and imagine what they would do to my body.”

I held up my hand. “TMI, Cheyenne.”

“And he’s walking over here,” Gabi whispered, unnecessarily pointing him out.

I took a good, long look at Grant McDermott. He swaggered more than walked over to us with his dark-wash jeans hanging low, hugging him perfectly. Tattoos peeked out of his charcoal gray T-shirt, and dog tags hung loose from his neck. He was muscular but lean. His hair was long in the front, but it was shaved short on the sides, and looked purposely messy. His smirk was cocky and his eyes inviting.

His entire appeal from the clothes to his demeanor was contrived. Looking at my friends obsessing over him, I was pretty sure they were too far lost in a Grant McDermott haze to see through the playboy attitude.

Grant walked right through a crowd of women clamoring for his attention and straight toward me. I just stared at him with furrowed brows. He smirked when he saw that he’d caught my attention. I almost looked away, but his attention only infuriated me. I tilted my chin up and held my ground. What the hell did he want?