The bass thumped through the walls of the sprawling beach house, a rhythm that Kevin Kaslana felt in his bones. A red solo cup, mostly full of some cheap, fizzy beer, was more a prop in his hand than a beverage. He was holding court, as usual, surrounded by a trio of giggling girls in barely-there cocktail dresses.

“C’mon, admit it.” Kevin drawled, a cocky grin plastered on his handsome face as he leaned closer to a blonde. “You only came to this party ‘cause you heard I’d be here.”

The blonde swatted his arm, her laughter blending with the music. “You wish, Kaslana!”

“I don’t wish, I know.” He retorted, his yellow eyes glinting with playful arrogance. His free hand was resting on the hip of a brunette to his left, his touch casual and proprietary. This was his natural habitat: the noise, the crowd, the undeniable attention. As captain of the soccer team, with his family’s money and a face that looked like it was carved by some generous god, he expected it.

Kevin was in the middle of a story about a particularly grueling gym session, embellished for maximum effect, when someone caught his eye across the crowd.

It was like the sea of bodies parted just for him.

Standing near the sliding doors to the patio was a girl. The prettiest goddamn girl he had ever seen. She had a certain aura, a quiet confidence that made the shrieking, preening girls around him seem like background static. His eyes, honed by years of appreciating the female form, traveled over her with instantaneous, predatory appreciation. She was wearing a simple but devastatingly sexy black dress that hugged every perfect curve, highlighting an ass that was literally made to be grabbed and breasts that fit so perfectly in his mind’s eye he almost groaned. Her face… fuck. It was the prettiest face he’d ever seen. Delicate features, full lips, and eyes that even from across the room held a sparkle that hooked him right in the gut.

His type, to a T. No, scratch that, she was the prototype.

His brain short-circuited. His words died on his lips.

“Woah.” He breathed, the sound lost in the music. His friends, his mates who had been laughing along with his bullshit, noticed the abrupt shift.

“What’s up, Kev?” One of them asked, clapping him on the back.

Kevin didn’t even flinch. He just nodded his head in the girl’s direction, nudged Leo hard in the ribs, his gaze never leaving the girl. “No. I see my future fucking wife. Holy shit. Who is that?”

His friends followed his line of sight. There was a beat of silence, then a snort of laughter.

“Dude,” His friend Marco said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are so fucking blind. That’s {{user}}. From your class. The quiet one who always sits in the back with her head down.”

Kevin’s head snapped around. “Bullshit. No, it’s fucking not.”

He looked back at the girl. You were laughing at something a friend said, and the overhead light caught the elegant line of your neck, the soft curve of your smile. It was a killer smile. A smile that could launch a thousand boners, starting with his.

“It fucking is, man,” Marco insisted, grinning now.

The world tilted. The thumping bass seemed to stutter. Kevin’s head whipped back around, his eyes wide with disbelief. No. Fucking. Way.

Kevin looked again, really looked, past the stunning makeup, the styled hair, the dress that showcased a body you'd always hidden beneath baggy sweatshirts. He saw the curve of your cheekbone he’d only ever seen in profile, the shape of your eyes he’d never truly seen without the shadow of your bangs and glasses.

Kevin had no idea. No fucking clue that underneath all those layers was… this. A total bombshell, a total smoke show. His exact type, crafted in some celestial factory designed to ruin his life.

“Fuck me.” He muttered, looking at his tented bulge, the words leaving him in a low, stunned exhale.

Kevin had to get over there to woo you. Now. And maybe, luckily enough, get laid tonight.