Fuck it. I’ll just go through the window and hope Lance—the kid who threw the party—has something to cover my balls. I crouch down, pushing on the window, but it doesn’t budge. Dropping the hat, I use both hands to pry it open and…nothing. Did she fucking lock me out?
“Fuck!” I yell, pounding on it with my fists, inadvertently gaining curious looks from the neighbors. Shit. I back up, ducking under the eave and out of sight. It dawns on me to try calling a few friends, but everyone I know is hungover or not answering, and Shep’s already back at school a couple hours away.
I lean over to grab my shoes and put those on before waiting a few minutes for my audience to disappear. I stand again, scanning the street to make sure the coast is clear, then look for an escape route. It’s only two stories. I could probably jump. But I’d rather not break my ankles if I can help it. And I might not have to, because I spot a vine-covered wooden structure with a bunch of beams supported by four posts a couple feet down that just might be my saving grace. If I could jump onto that, I could easily climb down.
Before I pussy out, I throw my hat on backwards and back up to get a running start. Cupping my dick with one hand, I bolt across the roof and jump. Luckily, I land on top of the structure on my feet, both hands gripping the lattice. The whole thing shakes and wobbles under my weight, and I hold my breath, hoping to fuck this thing doesn’t go crashing down. Once it stops, I carefully stand then hop from beam to beam. The more it shakes, the faster I go. When I’m almost at the edge, I hear a gasp.
My head snaps to the side as my hands instinctively shoot down to cover my dick. A middle-aged lady walking her Pomeranian stares right at me, mouth gaping.
“Morning, ma’am,” I shout, lifting one of my hands in greeting. Her mouth snaps shut and then she’s scooping up her dog up and speed walking away.
“Gerald!” she yells, running toward who I’m assuming is her husband watering their lawn about four houses down. His head pops up and she points in my direction. Even from here, I see the shock, then anger register on his face. He drops the hose, prowling for me.
Motherfucker. Out of time, I jump down onto the lawn and snatch my pants from the bush. I step into them and stumble when I try to pull them up as I run for my truck.
Dammit, my keys.
I frantically pat my front pockets, hoping they’re still here, and thank fuck, they are. I hop in, start the ignition, and throw the gear into drive, watching Old Man River shake his fist in my rearview mirror.
Waking up naked, stranded on a roof, and nearly getting arrested won’t go down as my best post-hookup morning. But, it’s not the worst, either.
Touché, Halston. Touché.
Halston
“Well, look who it is,” a familiar voice drawls.
Translation: I know we bumped uglies the other day, but I don’t remember your name.
My head snaps up, phone in one hand, iced coffee in the other as I walk out of the coffee shop closest to campus to see Sully and some of his friends gathered around in front of the donut joint right next door. Gray sweats, backwards hat, plain white tee stretched across his broad chest, showcasing tanned, muscular yet lean arms. He probably just rolled out of bed looking like that. Meanwhile, I woke up an hour and a half early just to be able to shower before the masses and look halfway human. And it should be fucking illegal to be that effortlessly perfect. Illegal, I tell you.
Sully breaks away from the group to walk toward me, smirking as if he can read my thoughts. For some reason, my heart does a little somersault in my chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement. He’s just a boy, Halston. A very pretty, very talented-in-the-sack boy, but a boy nonetheless. He looks me up and down, taking in my powder-blue, high-waisted skirt that flares out a few inches north of my knees and white crop top with an appreciative gleam in his eyes.
“Do you always leave your conquests in the middle of the night in compromising positions, or am I just special like that?”
I feel my cheeks get hot. It’s one thing to have a one-night stand, but it’s another thing entirely to face them in the light of day and discuss the sordid details.
“Hey, I covered you up.” I shrug, feigning indifference.
“Yeah, with my hat,” he deadpans, but there’s an amused smile playing on his lips. “You’re a real saint. How can I ever repay you?”
I laugh, sidestepping him, but he falls into step with me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Walking with you?” he says, but it sounds like a question.
I stop abruptly, turning to face him. “Look, you really don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” he asks, seeming genuinely confused.
“Just because we…” I motion between us.
“Fucked like animals?” he supplies before shoving the donut into his mouth, eating half of it in one bite. My stomach flips at his words, because that is exactly what it was. Pure, animalistic, unadulterated…
“Hung out,” I correct. “And don’t worry. I’m not going to be doodling your name with little hearts in my notebook or anything. You’re off the hook.”
“What if I want to be on the hook?” he mumbles around his mouthful. “Want some?” He holds the pink-sprinkled donut up in offering.
I wrinkle my nose in response.
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs. “What are you doing this weekend? We’re having some people over. This time at my place. You gonna be there?”
“I might have to wash my hair that day,” I say, noncommittal.
He stuffs the remainder of his donut into his mouth before plucking my phone from my hand.
“Hey—”
“Relax.” Sully taps at the screen, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, lit up with my number.
I raise a brow. “Please,” I say, tone thick with sarcasm. “Help yourself.”
“I’ll text you.” He slaps my phone back into my open palm.
A two A.M. “You up?” text, I’m sure.
He walks away backwards, giving me one last once-over. “Later, Hals.”
So, I guess he does remember my name.
Shaking my head, I try to suppress a smile, then turn for the building my humanities class is in. I look over my shoulder one last time just as two girls approach him. One after the other, they throw their arms around his neck in greeting, but his eyes seek me out, as if he feels me watching. I roll my eyes, turning away once more. I don’t get two steps before my phone vibrates in my hand.
Jealous, baby?
Not looking back this time, I throw my middle finger up in the air. I hear his loud laughter behind me, and then my phone vibrates again.
Nice outfit, btw. U should only ever wear skirts like those.
His compliment sends an unwelcomed thrill through me, but I turn my phone off and stuff it into my tan, leather backpack, refusing the urge to engage.
Zach Sullivan is going to be a problem. I can feel it.
I don’t text Sullivan back that day, or the next day, or the day after that. I don’t show up at his party, either.
“Did he say anything else?” I ask as I stand behind Allie, curling a section of her hair. She was closing at Blackbear last night when Jesse Shepherd walked in with his entourage. The night he walked her back to the dorms, he ended up bailing mid-hookup without an explanation. Sully was at Blackbear too, and apparently, he was asking about me.
“He just asked how you were,” she says.
“And you just said ‘fine’?”
“What was I supposed to say?” She shrugs. I release the curl, then pick up another chunk.
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “But something better than that.”
“What’s up with you guys?”
I hesitate, unsure if I want to voice it out loud. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know anything about him other than the fact that he’s amazing in bed. But still, there’s something there, and my built-in defense mechanism makes me pull back. “I think I like him.”
“He’s texted me a few times wanting to get together.”
“And?” she hedges, pushing, as if waiting for the punchline.
“He wanted to do daytime things. He invited me to lunch. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” Seriously. Lunch? Everyone knows that if first base is sex, second base is hanging out when the sun is up.
Allie laughs, like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “I don’t know, maybe date him?”
I snort. “Boys like him don’t date. At least not exclusively.”
“So, we’re going to this party because?”
“Because I’m a glutton for punishment.” Another weekend, another party. This time, curiosity won out, and I forced Allie to come along, once again.
“Same,” she says, standing in front of her dresser, giving her reflection a once-over.
“Think he’ll be there?” I ask. She knows we aren’t talking about Sully anymore.
She lifts a shoulder. “He lives here now. Anything is possible.”
I stand next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “We look hot. We’re going to go to this frat house, get drunk, have fun, and pretend they don’t exist.”
“You’re the boss.”
I can already tell by Allie’s crossed arms and apathetic expression that she’s unimpressed. Parties aren’t her thing, but she comes along for me. And despite the fact that she doesn’t want to face Jesse again after the way they left things, I think deep down, she’s curious. Her pride won’t let her admit as much, though. I mean, I’d want an explanation, too, if a guy I was hooking up with had the audacity to bail without an explanation, mid-topless make-out sesh, but I’d rather pluck out my own eyelashes than show it outwardly.
The house is dark, the only source of light coming from the various black lights that cast a purple glow around the living room and kitchen.
“I spy Jell-O shots!” I shout over the music. We wade through the neon-painted bodies toward the kitchen and I waste no time picking up two shots that look like they might give me some sort of superhuman strength, or the ability to climb walls once ingested. I toss the radioactive, blue shot back, the lukewarm consistency wiggling down my throat.
“Did you know this was a black light party?” Allie asks.
“Nope.” I lick the lingering sweetness from my lips. “But I’m into it.”
The sliding glass door opens, drawing my attention toward the backyard, where in walk Sully and Jesse, with a pack of groupies on their heels. Allie must notice, too, because I hear a muttered, “fuck,” from her direction.
Jesse’s aware of her presence right away, a slow, mischievous smile stretching across that chiseled face. Sully has his arm around the shoulders of a girl wearing a bikini and a jean skirt, her tits sprinkled with glow in the dark handprints, oblivious to my existence.
“Miss me, Allie Girl?” Jesse asks, coming to a stop in front of us.
“It’s Allison. And not even a little.”
I lift a brow at her snappy tone. Not many girls would talk to Jesse Shepherd that way. My girl’s got a spine and I love her for it.
“You wound me.” He clutches his chest dramatically.
“Classy,” Allie deadpans, eyes locked on his torso. He’s sporting the same artwork as everyone else here, with the addition of an arrow pointing to his crotch with the words Kylie was here scribbled above it.
“It’s a gift.” Jesse shrugs.
“Hey, Halston,” Sully says, moving toward me as his heated gaze rakes up and down my body, his eyes lingering a little too long where the hem of my skirt meets my thighs.
“Oh. Hey,” I say, indifference coating my tone before turning back to Allie. “I love this song! Let’s dance.”
I pull a laughing Allie into the crowd of sweaty bodies, fully away aware of Sully’s eyes on my every move.
“I thought you wanted to see him,” Allie says.
I lean in closer to her ear. “I’m not going to let him know that. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
I feel a chest press against my back, and I look up to see Travis, a guy I went to high school with. He’s a man whore to the max, and not one person in this town takes him seriously, but he’s attractive and dancing with him won’t hurt anything. His friend, that I don’t recognize, sidles up to Allie, slipping an arm around the small of her back. I almost snort at the look on her face, and I know she’s going to hit him the rejection in three, two, one…
“Nooope,” is all she says, causing me to laugh out loud as she slides out of his grasp. It stops being funny, however, when homeboy doesn’t take the hint and decides to try his luck again, plastering his front to her back.
“Handle your creepy friend,” I say, separating from Travis. “She said no.”
“He’s harmless,” Travis insists.
“Either you do it or I pull out my taser and handle him.”
“Looks like she’s handling herself just fine,” he says, flicking his chin in their direction. I turn back in time to see Allie shove him backwards, the drink in his hand splashing onto his shirt.
“The fuck?” he slurs angrily. He holds his arms out wide, looking down at his wet shirt.
“No means no,” Allie says, tossing him a bratty smirk.
“Whatever, you’re fucking ugly anyway,” is his super original retort.
I’m at her side in an instant, hooking my arm with hers. I give him a scathing look, daring him to say another word. He’s visibly uncomfortable now that he has an audience, his eyes shifting between us.
Thinking better of it, he mutters, “bitch,” under his breath and starts to walk away, but soon as he turns around, he comes face to face with Jesse. Before he can so much as whimper in fear, Jesse cocks a fist back and sends it straight into his face. Unfortunately, when his head snaps back and he loses his balance, he falls right into Allie, taking them both down.
The music cuts off abruptly, and someone turns on the lights. Douchebag cups his nose, blood spilling between his fingers. “What the hell, Shep?!”
Jesse lunges for him at the same tame I rush to help Allie up. Jesse grabs him by his collar with both fists and throws him away from Allie before landing another punch. Sullivan appears out of fucking nowhere, pulling Jesse off him.
“Jesus!” I shout, helping Allie up from the sticky, beer-soaked floor.
“You’re out!” Sullivan’s surprisingly threatening voice booms as he points toward the door.
“I didn’t do shit—” Drunk Guy starts, but Jesse lunges for him again, causing him to flinch, then finally, he heads for the exit.
Allie’s eyes are wide as she takes in the probing stares and not-so-hushed gossip breaking out around us like wildfire. I know better than to coddle her or ask if she’s okay right now. If I know Allison Parrish at all, I know she’s embarrassed as hell, about two seconds from bolting.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Jesse shouts, turning in a circle, effectively diverting the attention from Allie. “It’s a party. Start fucking partying.”
The music starts back up, the lights are cut, and everyone goes back to partying as if it never happened.
Just another drama-filled night in River’s Edge. Tune in next Friday to see what happens next.
Allie bends over to grab her boot that I didn’t realize had fallen off. She shoves her foot in with all the grace of an elephant before storming off.
Both Jesse and I go after her, and I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what his intentions are with Allie. He was supposed to be fun for a night, but he’s acting like a jilted boyfriend and they haven’t even sealed the deal.
Once we’re on the porch, Allie whirls around to face us. “I didn’t need your help,” she snaps.
“Don’t flatter yourself. That wasn’t for you,�
� Jesse shoots back.
“Oh, really? You just decided to pick a fight for the fun of it?”
I smirk, my eyes bouncing back and forth between them. Now I get it. This is their weird version of foreplay. They just don’t realize it yet.
“I, uh, I’m just gonna…” I interrupt, hitching a thumb behind me. Neither one of them spares me a glance. Instead, they move back through the house, set on finding another one of those Jell-O shots. Just before I reach the table, Sully intercepts me, his tall frame towering over me.
“You just couldn’t resist me, could you?”
“You caught me,” I deadpan, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “Now, move.” I sidestep him, reaching for one of the Jell-O shots.
“They’re probably going to be a while,” he says, referring to Allie and Jesse. “Wanna take this party up to the roof?”
“That was a one-time deal.”
“Come on, Halston. Why did you come here?”
I pull a face, gesturing around us. “It’s…a party?”
“And you weren’t hoping to see me? Even a teeny, tiny bit? I call bullshit.”
“Whatever you say, Zachary Binx.”
“What did you just say?”
“Zachary Binx.” I shrug. His lack of reaction tells me that he has no idea what I’m talking about. “You know. Hocus Pocus.” Everyone’s seen that movie, and when he told me his name, that was the first thing that popped into my drunken mind.
Sully’s lips stretch into an amused grin. “Uh, pretty sure you’re referring to Thackery Binx.”
“No way. What the hell kind of name is Thackery? A fake one, that’s what kind.”
“Bet.”
“You’re on.”
“Name your stakes.”
“You first.”
“If I’m right, you have to agree to hang out with me. Just hang out,” he clarifies, when my eyebrows shoot up. “And if I’m wrong…”
“When you’re wrong,” I correct, “you have to let me dress you up for the next party.”
He scoffs, tan arms folding across his chest, clearly unimpressed.
“I’m talking Oscar de la Renta dress, Louboutin heels—because let’s be honest, those bitches are so uncomfortable that I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy—a water bra…the works.”
Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology Page 27
