by Jacie Lennon
“Same, girl. Same.” I take a deep breath. I reach down, grip the hem of my cover-up, and pull it over my head, fully ready to take advantage of the sun.
We lie there for about twenty minutes, soaking in the rays, before a dark shadow falls across me, making me open my eyes. A guy is standing there, one I don’t recognize. He’s tall, filled out, and wearing a signature smirk that these prep-school boys have down to a T.
“Yes?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything for a while.
“You wouldn’t happen to be amazing at beer pong, would you?” His smirk widens into a grin as I put my hand up, shielding my eyes from the sun.
“I’m actually not,” I say. “But I can pretend to be if you need a partner?”
I feel almost giddy inside at the attention. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. I hear Trixie shift next to me before the sound of her gasp reaches my ears.
“Connor?” she says, sitting up.
I watch the smirk melt off the guy’s face as he notices who she is.
“Trixie?”
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her eyes darting around.
Something about her almost seems panicked, and I don’t know why.
“We were invited.”
“We? Is he here?”
Connor scratches the back of his head, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Yeah, he is. But don’t worry, Trix; you probably won’t see him.”
“That makes me feel tons better,” she deadpans with a groan. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
She stands, and I grab her wrist before she can walk away.
“Excuse us, Connor. I need a quick word here,” I say, standing and walking with her. “What’s going on?” I ask once we are far enough away.
Trixie’s back is to Connor, but I can see him staring at us. Trixie fidgets with the string on her bikini, not looking at me.
“It’s fine, Landry. Connor is a good guy. You should go play beer pong with him.”
“No, it’s not okay. Something is wrong, and I want you to spill.”
“Connor attends Heywood Prep. I have a history with another guy who goes there, and I don’t want to see him right now.” She glances over her shoulder to see Connor still standing there.
“Does this have something to do with what happened with Bodhi?”
She nods, and I worry my bottom lip. This isn’t adding up.
“Why would they invite him then?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “But I’m not sure I like it. It’s either a power play between the two schools. Or something is going down.”
I shudder at the ominous tone of her voice.
Connor walks over to us, hands held out as if he’s coming in peace, and I nod my head in his direction, letting Trixie know.
“Where is he?” she asks as soon as he’s standing beside us.
“Saw him go in one of the downstairs rooms. I don’t think he will be out anytime soon.” He shifts from foot to foot. “Come on. Let’s go play and get your mind off of it.”
He smiles brightly again, and I look at Trixie.
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” I tell her. I won’t abandon my only friend over a boy.
She squares her shoulders and looks at me. “No, let’s go have some fun. I won’t let him bring me down.”
“That’s the spirit,” I say and look to Connor. “We are in.”
I grin, and he wraps an arm around each of our waists, leading us down the back stairs to the lower deck.
The vibe down here is more party than relaxing. There are four tables set up, an entire tournament going with lots of shouting and laughter. I almost feel normal again as I take my place by Connor, Trixie standing at the side of the table to cheer us on.
“Who are we playing against?” I ask.
Connor looks toward the board, where a bracket is set up, squinting to see who we are paired against. With a groan, he turns back to me. “Fuck, we are playing Corbin and Brock.”
My stomach drops, and my smile disappears.
Connor notices and bumps my shoulder with his. “Everything okay?”
I paste a smile back on and bump his shoulder back. “Peachy,” I say, and he chuckles.
“We probably won’t win, but who knows? Sometimes, the underdogs come out on top.”
“Very rarely, Connor. But I like your way of thinking,” I say with a laugh. I turn around and lean my butt against the table as I look at him. “So, you must not know.”
“Know what?” He crosses his arms as he looks at me.
I can’t help but notice he’s everything Corbin isn’t. Almost as if I found the light to his dark. His brown eyes stay on me as I cock my head and plant my hands on the table.
“Who I am,” I say, and he laughs.
“Actually, no. I haven’t even asked your name.”
“Landry,” I say, holding my hand out, and he grasps it in his palm, warm and large, pulling me in close.
“Nice to meet you, Landry,” he whispers.
I feel goose bumps break out along my skin as I catch green eyes staring at me over his shoulder.
Fuck.
“Hey, dickbag. Ready to lose?” Brock’s voice sounds from the other end of the table.
I step around Connor, face-to-face with Brock and Corbin. They scowl at me and then at Connor.
“Hey, boys,” I say, wiggling my fingers in a little wave, and then I look at Connor. “I’m ready to kick some asshole ass.”
17
Corbin
I want to punch the douche bag’s face in. With every throw and high five he gives her. When he nudges her shoulder with his own. When his hand rests on her lower back for a moment. I know I don’t have a claim on her, but fuck if I haven’t thought about her every day since the marina. Since the moment I knew that I had to let her go before we both got in over our heads. Brock and Bodhi weren’t thrilled, but they haven’t given me any grief over my decision. We will figure out another way to get the information we need.
She thinks I don’t notice the way her eyes cut to mine with each touch he gives her. She thinks I don’t notice how she looks my way when she makes a cup. She thinks her expression is impassive, that she doesn’t have her feelings written across her face for me to see, but she does.
“It’s your turn,” Brock says, elbowing me.
I look at him. “What?”
Oh, beer pong. Right.
I shoot the ping-pong ball and sink it, and Brock whoops next to me. I don’t let myself smile though. I keep my walls up, my shield on my face, and act as if seeing Landry over there with Connor fucking Stanson isn’t ruining my concentration and making me think murderous thoughts.
She doesn’t belong to you, I try to remind myself, but I want her to. I want the one girl I can’t have. Just my fuckin’ luck.
We beat their asses, and I don’t feel one bit bad about it. The faster I can split them up, the better. I know; I’m a selfish bastard, but I can’t help it. I didn’t think it through when Bodhi told us he had invited some kids from Heywood. We tried to tell him it was a bad idea, but he wasn’t going to be swayed. He had an ulterior motive. I know it has to do with Trixie, but that’s Bodhi’s battle to fight. We effectively put a ban on Landry around Almadale, but Heywood doesn’t answer to us. And now, I have to watch her having fun with someone else.
“Your obsession is showing,” Brock says, leaning nonchalantly against the table, eyes on the crowd of our classmates having fun.
“Shut up,” I growl, putting both hands up behind my head.
I see a few girls staring at me, but a quick scowl has them looking somewhere else. I’ve been in a downward spiral for a month, unable to entertain even the idea of being with someone else. All I’ve had for that time is my right hand, and after a while, it doesn’t fully satisfy me anymore.
I’m in a funk, and I know Brock and Bodhi are tired of it.
Hell, I’m tired of it. I need to get laid. Maybe that will help.
I watc
h Landry walk off with Trixie, fighting the urge to smile when Connor goes in the opposite direction.
Good fucking riddance.
The rest of the games are wrapping up around us, so the tournament should be progressing soon. We are down to the last four teams playing on two tables and then the championship. Brock and I have been the winners for the last two years. Yeah, I get that this is technically for the senior class, but seeing as how the Montgomery yacht, Pearl, is used, we’ve been attending since freshman year. I’m not complaining.
“Where have you been?” I ask as Bodhi slides up next to us, arms around two girls who are wearing bikinis that barely qualify as items of clothing.
He has a wolfish grin on his face as he looks down at them.
“Question answered,” I mutter.
“I saw something interesting,” he says, cocking an eyebrow, and I lean back against the table, folding my arms across my chest. “The blue guest room was looking pretty occupied when we were on our way up.”
“What’s your point?” Brock asks, rearranging the cups back into a triangle for the next game.
“My point is”—he leans over, dramatically eyeing me up and down and then looking back at his brother—“you wouldn’t give two shits, Brock. But our boy here might.” His grin turns wolfish again, and my heart sinks.
That can only mean one thing. That Landry is part of the couple occupying the damn blue guest room. What makes it even worse is that it’s my room. When I stay here, that’s always the one I sleep in, and now, it’s going to be tainted. This day is turning horrible pretty quickly.
“Who?” I growl.
Bodhi smiles even wider, if that’s possible. “Landry.”
“I know that, dipstick. Who is she with?” I stalk toward him, and he pulls the girls in closer, reminding me that we have an audience.
We always have an audience, and I’m forgetting myself.
“Don’t even think about it, man. Let it go,” Brock says, putting a hand to my chest as I take a step away from the table. “She’s not yours. She can do what she wants. Plus, we have a tournament to finish.”
Fuck. I didn’t even think about the tournament.
And Brock is right; she’s not mine. If she wants to screw someone else, she can. But I made it where she couldn’t at Almadale because if I couldn’t have her, no one else could. I didn’t think I would have to contend with Heywood though.
Fuckin’ Connor Stanson.
I blame Bodhi for this. His obsession with his girl drove him to invite those pricks.
I war with myself, going back and forth on what I’m going to do, but I know every moment I stand here is a moment that I’m not down there.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Sorry, man,” I mutter as I brush by, cringing as Brock yells after me. I look over my shoulder and yell back, “Put Bodhi in my place.”
Bodhi can’t play beer pong for shit, but I don’t care right now. I have more important things to contend with than a tournament. I take the stairs two at a time as I run a hand through my hair. I bump into a few people, pushing as I make my way through the crowd.
Why did we invite all these people again?
Once I finally get to the floor where the rooms are, I slow down, steadying my breathing. I can’t look out of breath when I interrupt this little twosome. At least, I hope it’s a twosome. And nothing more.
Standing outside the door to the blue room, I pause. Anger thrumming through my veins at myself, Landry, and Connor. I don’t know who I’m angriest with. I raise my hand to knock but think better of it. Rattling the door, I see the little shits locked it, and I kick it out of frustration.
“Open the fucking door, Landry,” I yell.
I raise a fist to pound the door, but it’s whipped open, and I lurch forward, off-balance.
“What the hell?” Connor is standing there, shirt off.
I see red and lunge toward him, fist raised but he ducks it.
What has gotten into me?
I’ve never fought over a girl before.
“Dude. Corbin, what’s going on?” Connor asks while trying to avoid my body running over him.
I can’t seem to stop myself, and I swipe a leg out, hooking his and taking him to the ground. I rear back again, about to land a punch straight to his face when Landry’s angry voice cuts through the fog.
“What are you doing?”
I look up. She’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom, holding Connor’s shirt and still fully dressed. In my anger, I didn’t even stop to look for her. Connor takes advantage of my momentary pause, bucking me off of him, and he stands. I’m still kneeling there, brow furrowed as I look between the two of them.
“Get the fuck out,” I growl at Connor, who is looking between me and Landry with a frown on his face.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks Landry as I get to my feet.
Landry’s shoulders drop, and she sighs.
“It’s fine. You can go,” she says, handing him his shirt.
He slips it over his head, and with a final look at Landry, he walks past me, shoulder-checking me on his way out. Once the door shuts behind him, I stretch my neck to each side, clenching and unclenching my fist. Calming down.
“What’s wrong with you?” Landry seethes.
I look at her, taking her in. She’s thrown on a gauzy white cover-up that doesn’t do much to hide her green bikini. But I can still fully see her standing at the beer pong table, curves on display, her long hair dusting her skin. I was jealous of it, wanting to be the one to touch her.
“Why were you in here with him?” I ask, ignoring her question. Mine is more important.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I spilled some food on his shirt, and I was cleaning it.”
“Why the fuck was the door locked?” I scowl at her, not completely sold on her story.
“I don’t know. I walked in first. Maybe Connor locked it.”
“Why would he do that if something wasn’t going to happen?”
I stalk toward her, and she stands taller, hands on her hips. She looks furious with me.
“Fuck you, Corbin. If I wanted something to happen with Connor, it’s completely within my right to do so.”
“You belong to me, Landry.”
“I don’t belong to anyone besides myself. You egotistical asshole. You destroyed us the day you left me in the parking lot of the damn marina.”
She’s pissed. Good. If she didn’t still feel something for me, she wouldn’t be so emotional over this.
I rake a hand down my face and pin her with another stare. I might not own her. She might not belong to me, but I don’t want her to belong to anyone else either. I’m like a kid with a favorite toy, and I’m not sharing. Period.
We stand there, facing off for what feels like forever. Tension thick in the air, wrapping around me, stifling me. I watch her nostrils flare as she fists one side of her cover-up, shaking.
“Landry, I—” I groan, cutting myself off.
“You what?”
“I’m sorry.”
She stares at me in disbelief. “You’re sorry? What exactly are you sorry about? The way you treated me like dirt one second before rocking my world and then slipping back into treating me like dirt again? I have whiplash. I can’t continue like this. I have to be done with you. You can’t come back into my life when I’m finally doing okay.”
Her lip trembles, and my insides clench. I don’t want to be the one to do this to her. I step forward until I’m right in front of her, reaching out with one finger to lift her chin.
“I’m sorry for being an ass. There are … things you don’t understand. Things that have held me back from you. I didn’t know that I’d hurt you so much in the process.”
“What types of things?” she asks.
I watch a tear cling to her bottom lashes, wobbling, but it doesn’t fall. I reach up and wipe it off, and she watches me with wide eyes.
“Things I can’t talk abou
t,” I say, stepping back and using one hand to rub my neck.
God, I’m an asshole.
I shouldn’t have even come in here. I don’t know what it is about her, but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
She scoffs before stepping back and turning slightly. “Unbelievable. You don’t even know what an apology is. Saying I’m sorry and then reverting to your same closed-off and secretive ways doesn’t make it any better. You should go.” She focuses on a spot over my shoulder, not looking directly at me.
“Okay,” I say, nodding, and her shoulders slump.
She looks so sad, and I want to comfort her, but we are beyond that now. I would give anything to touch her, to make her believe that we can be together, but I know once I have Abe, I’m leaving, and once Brock and Bodhi have their proof, she will be leaving too. I can’t let anything jeopardize Abe’s future.
Or maybe I’m a coward.
I turn, walking a few steps, and flinch when I hear the bathroom door slam behind me.
My eyes snag on her bag, lying on the bed to my left, and I make a snap decision. I lean over, pulling the bag open, and wrap my hand around her phone. I shouldn’t take it, but I’m desperate to prove once and for all that she isn’t involved. This could either be her ticket to freedom or her downfall. And I’m hoping for my sake that it’s clear of anything that could implicate her. I slip it in my pocket, patting it, and stride out of the room.
Here goes nothing.
18
Landry
Standing outside the dorm, I keep shifting my purse from one hand to the other. I go back and forth between feelings of disbelief and then anger and then denial. It’s been a whirlwind, and I’m exhausted. I want to shut my mind off. I can’t believe he barged in, trying to lay claim after what he did.
I’m angry with myself for caring, for giving him the time of day instead of walking out with my head held high. He knows what he does to me, and yet he dares to stand there and act like he’s so confused by my feelings.
Screw you, buddy.