“You fucking suck!”
I wheel around, finding a group of people crowded around a beat-up, graffitied beer pong table. A guy at the far end grabs a red Solo cup and chugs down the remnants in seconds.
“Here, drink this,” Margie says, pushing a cup in my direction.
“I’m sorry,” I say, peeking up and batting my eyes at her. “My mother told me not to accept drinks from creeps.”
“Good practice, babe,” she says, tapping the top of my head. She tips her cup toward the table and calls out, “We’ve got next game!”
Oh, heck no.
“I’m so not playing beer pong,” I hiss.
“You’re so playing beer pong,” she corrects, authority-like. “I don’t care if you suck. I’ll take one for the team because I know you’ll have fun.” She gives me a sappy grin. “Suck all you want, and I’ll still be your friend. I mean, I’ll be a very drunk friend but still a good one.”
I sip on my beer as she proceeds to explain the rules of beer pong while we wait for the guys to finish up their game. I shake my head when she asks if I have any questions.
I gulp, fighting with myself on how to play this out.
“I’ll go first,” Margie says as we take our spots at the end of the table. “Just watch what I do, okay?”
I nod. “Got it.”
“Do we have a newbie in the house?” our opponent, a guy sporting an overgrown man bun, asks from across the table. Even though his question was directed at me, his eyes are fixed on Margie, his face masked with desire. “Does that mean you’re trying to get drunk tonight, babe?”
“Shut up,” Margie says, pulling her shiny hair into a ponytail before blowing them a kiss. “Prepare to lose, assholes.”
She wastes no time before grabbing a white ping-pong ball and tossing it toward them, and the group yells when it lands in the cup in front of him with a plop.
The guy laughs and cheers her before downing his drink.
He takes his turn, and the ball drops into one of our cups.
Margie drinks her cup before handing me the ball. “You got this.”
“I got this.” I sigh to myself, drawing in the confident smirks smothered on our opponents’ faces, fully expecting me to miss.
I lift my hand, gracefully sending my ball in their direction, and it sinks into their middle cup.
Margie squeals, grabbing my arm and jumping up and down before smirking at them. “Drink up, boys.”
“Beginner’s luck,” man-bun dude yells.
“I never said I was a beginner,” I retort. “That’s what you get for assuming.”
“Holy shit,” man-bun’s partner says—a scrawny guy with a shaved head. “I think I love her.”
He gulps down his drink.
Makes his next shot.
I drink.
Just like with tequila, Rex is a beer pong fan—a big one—and he taught me how to play a mean game with him. One of our classmates always held bonfires in his field and beer pong tournaments in his parents’ barn. Rex demanded I be his partner every time, and I learned the game. We were the reigning champs until we graduated.
People might think I’m a prude who doesn’t have fun, but they don’t know me.
I’m not me with other people, not in my comfort zone like I am with Rex.
He gets me, and when someone gets you, you’re not afraid to take risks.
I’m on my fourth game of beer pong.
Margie and I have won every time, and even though we’ve been kicking ass, our opponents don’t suck. They’ve hit enough cups to give me a slight buzz, which I’m thankful for.
It’s clouding my thoughts about Rex ditching me.
I bring the cup to my lips … and then nearly choke when it’s pulled away mid-sip.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
My heartbeat triples in speed when I see a fuming Rex in front of me. I don’t get the chance to ask what he thinks he’s doing before he captures my elbow in his hand and pulls me through the crowd. He doesn’t release me until we’re outside and away from the madness.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he repeats, stepping closer.
Oh, hell no.
He doesn’t get to act like he can be the only one to have fun.
“I’m here for the same reason you are—to party and drink,” I answer with a huff. “And screw you. How dare you drag me out of there like you’re my father!”
It’s dark, and the only light around us is the faint one coming from the porch light.
I can’t witness the anger on his face.
I can hear it, though.
Irritation slides along every word, and tension fills his sharp breaths. “I told you, if you go to a party, I go with you.”
Even though he can’t see it, I scowl at him. “Weird. You don’t ask for my permission to attend parties.”
“That’s different,” he grumbles. “And you know it.”
“How?”
“I’m a dude, and you’re … well, you.”
I angrily open my crossbody bag, pull out my phone, and ignore the texts he sent me an hour ago. “I’m me? Let me interrupt this broadcast to Google the definition of women’s rights for you where it says I can do whatever the hell I want.”
I groan when he snatches the phone, turns on the flashlight, and shines it down on me. I wince at the bright light, hating that he’s putting me on display.
“I know enough about that, considering the endless documentaries you’ve made me watch about it,” he replies.
“Obviously, I need to make you watch more.”
“I do this to keep you safe, Carolina,” he says. Some of his frustration slips, and a hint of gentleness comes through. “Not to be an overbearing asshole.”
My eyes rise to meet his. “Safe from what? Having a good time?”
“No, safe from date-rape drugs, from dudes who take advantage of tipsy chicks, from you putting yourself in dangerous situations. I’m your best friend, and it’s my job to watch over you.”
“Huh. Maybe as your best friend, I want to keep you safe. Maybe I don’t want you to get date-raped.” I sigh. “If you want to be my cockblock, Lane, then I’ll be yours. I’ll be blocking vaginas left and right tonight.” I do a show of dramatically elbowing the air on each side.
He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Not funny.”
“You know what isn’t funny? Having a double-standard friendship.” I hate that my eyes turn glossy. Normally, I’m not this sensitive, but I miss him, and I’m mad at him, and we rarely argue. “It’s not fair, Rex.”
“Shit,” he bites out. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not. My eyes are irritated from your bullshit. Seems I’m allergic.”
He chuckles before holding out his hand. “Come on. I’ll drive you back to your dorm.”
I slap his hand away. “Nuh-uh, mister. I’m staying here and having fun, and then I’ll ride back with Margie’s friend.”
He shakes his head. “Nice try. I’m driving you back. If you’re good, I’ll stop and get you an ice cream cone.”
“This isn’t funny,” I seethe.
Rex always tries to make light of every situation because serious talks aren’t his thing. I can only imagine what we look like—standing to the side of the yard at a party, arguing like a drunk couple where the girlfriend found her frat boyfriend cheating.
I snatch my phone from his hand, catching him off guard, and aim the light on him. “I’m not a child or your little sister. I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
I was wrong about him being frustrated.
Now that I can see his face, every emotion shows.
He’s downright pissed.
His eyes narrow as he steps closer. “You’re drinking and dressed like that.” He bites into his lower lip while moving his gaze down my body. “Where did you even get that dress? I’ve never seen it, and trust me, I’d remember it.”
“You don’t see me all the tim
e.”
“Enough times to know you haven’t worn it before.”
“Rex!”
I shift over to look past him and find a blonde on the porch. She yells his name again, her hand resting against her forehead as she scans the yard for him. Rex doesn’t bother turning around to look at her; his intense eyes are closed in on me, as if we were the only people in this yard.
“Lina,” he says softly.
“Rex!” the chick yells his name again.
I snarl in aggravation. Why is she looking for him? Did he come with her?
Rex might be overprotective of me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep an eye on him. Sometimes, I hate myself for it—like right now, when there’s a girl yelling his name, wanting him to go back and hang out with her.
Hang out with her. Not with me.
I push him back. “You have a party to get to, and so do I.”
He steps to the side, stopping me. “Fuck the party. You’re more important.”
“What will you do then?” I throw my arm out toward the porch. “Take me back to my dorm, come back, and then hook up with the chick on the porch who’s looking for you?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, his voice on edge. “I didn’t have a plan, considering I didn’t know you’d be here. My biggest priority at the moment is to return you to your dorm, safe—”
I cut him off, “You’re a jerk.”
It’s his turn to cut me off. “If you’d let me finish my goddamn sentence, I was going to say, unless you want me to stay and hang out with you.”
“I don’t want you to pity hang out with me.” My voice is strained.
He looks at the sky. “Fuck!” His attention flickers back to me. “I don’t know how much you’ve had to drink, but what the hell? Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what exactly?” I give him a death stare.
“Like a totally different Carolina.”
“Maybe this is me. The new Carolina.” I step to the other side of him, so he’s no longer blocking me, and I walk past him, pushing the phone back into my purse without bothering to turn the flashlight off. “This Carolina is going to drink some more and maybe find a guy to look for her from the porch.”
I sound like a total brat, but how dare him!
His arm circles my waist, and he pulls me back. “This Rex is not going to allow that shit.”
I shove him away. “Jesus. Overbearing much?”
He groans. “Fine, go have fun with your friends.” He shoves his finger through the air in the direction of the house. “But I’m staying here.”
I scoff. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I won’t be up your ass, but you’re not staying here by yourself.” His tone is half-calm, half-bossy. “When you’re done having fun, I’ll take you back to your dorm.”
“Carolina!”
This time, it’s my name being called out from the porch. Also, this time, Rex and I both look at the porch. Margie is standing next to the girl who has been looking for Rex.
Margie’s head turns to Rex. “Rex! Piss off! I need my partner back. We had a good winning streak going on.”
I use this as a quick exit plan.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I say, rushing away from him and scurrying up the porch steps, stumbling a bit in my heels.
Margie grins when I make it to her.
Rex calls out my name, and I don’t look back while following Margie into the house.
I’m being watched.
I hate being watched.
Rex’s whiskey-colored eyes have been burning into me since he returned to the house with a scowl on his face and leaned back against the wall, giving him the perfect view of the kitchen. He sips on his beer while focusing on me, as if I’m his favorite show. Holey black jeans hang low on his waist, and he’s sporting gray slip-on Chucks and a black leather jacket over a blue tee. A light scruff covers his cheeks and strong jaw, and his toffee-colored hair is messily pushed back.
Rex Lane doesn’t look anything like a man who plays video games on the regular.
Margie and I have continued to play beer pong, but luckily, our opponents are getting drunker, so we don’t have to drink as much.
I fight the urge to stare back at him and am proud of myself for only stealing quick glances every few minutes. My heart nearly stops during one of these peeks. I miss my shot, startled at the sight of the skinny blonde from the porch standing in front of him, her back to me. He’s sharing his attention between her and me now, and I clench my fist around the ball. When it’s my turn, I can’t stop myself from hurling the ball across the room, my aim directed at him.
It lands at his feet. Blondie spins to glare at me, and I only shrug. Rex shakes his head, raising a brow, fully aware my cup miss wasn’t an accident.
I look away when Margie taps my shoulder. “Carolina, stop playing dodgeball with Blondie and get your ass over there to claim your man.”
I force a laugh, a sick feeling in my stomach. “He’s not my man.”
“He comes to our dorm enough that someone would think he’s your man. He dragged you out of this party, claiming you as his.”
“Or he thinks he’s my father.”
I grit my teeth as the girl lifts on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, her hand caressing his jaw. He nods, as if he were listening, but his eyes are back on me.
“I say, you go punch him in the balls for even entertaining her,” Margie comments.
My shoulders slump. “He’s my best friend.”
She scoffs. “You need to quit being blind if you think you’re only friends.”
My eyes water when Rex’s attention leaves me longer than it has all night as he offers the girl a flirtatious smile. He’s nodding, laughing at what she’s saying, and she steps in closer, their bodies nearly rubbing against each other. I’m well aware Rex has an active sex life, but when he’s with me, he’s with me.
Blondie kissing the side of his mouth is my undoing.
“I’m out of here,” I say. “I’ll Uber home.”
I can’t stop myself from looking at them again. Blondie’s arm is wrapped around his neck now.
“No, I’ll get Kara,” Margie says. “She’s the DD tonight, so she’s probably ready to dip anyway. No one likes their DD nights.”
I nod, tapping the side of my eyes to stop crying. Rex will probably take Blondie home tonight and screw her brains out. I shut my eyes when memories of the night he screwed me push through my mind. Even though I’d sworn it wouldn’t change anything, I’ll never forget every way he touched me and how my body responded. I’d had other guys touch me, finger me, but no one has ever made me feel as good as Rex did.
It was like he knew me in every way.
In my perfect world, I’d be kissing his mouth. He’d be taking me back to his place. We’d spend the rest of the night naked in his bed.
Too bad my world isn’t perfect.
Margie takes my hand, and we walk outside.
“I told you I was taking you home, Carolina!” Rex yells behind me when we hit the sidewalk and walk toward Kara’s Honda Civic.
“I told you I’m riding with my friends,” I reply without looking back at him. I know him well enough to know he’s following me.
Margie whips us around, and Rex is only inches away, the streetlight shining over us.
“Look, Rex, she’s hanging out with her girlfriends tonight. We need to gossip about what a dumbass you’re being. I promise to take good care of her.”
“I know how to take care of her better than anyone,” he snaps, but he’s not looking at Margie. He’s looking at me.
Guilt creeps through my blood at the torture on his face. I want to pull away from Margie and let Rex take me home, but I have to stop depending on him. I can’t sit at home on Friday nights when he’s busy and sulk about it. We’re in college now, and our relationship has changed.
“Rex,” I say around a sigh. “I’m going straight back to the dorm.”
“Uh, stalker much?” Kara cuts in behind us.
I didn’t even notice she’d stopped with us.
“Uh, best friend much?” Rex says, mocking her voice without even giving her a glance. He tips his head down and kisses my forehead. “I hope you had fun tonight, Lina babe. Text me next time you go out, but you’re not wearing that fucking dress, FYI.”
“Hater,” Margie sings out. “Don’t get mad at other guys for wanting something you’re too chicken to touch.”
He slams his mouth shut, fighting to control his smart-ass response. His palm falls at the base of my back as he walks us to Kara’s car, and he stands in place as we pull away.
Is he going back to the party?
To Blondie?
I clench my fingers in my lap, just thinking about it.
“We need to make a quick pit stop at the grocery store,” Margie demands from the front seat. “We need snacks on snacks on snacks.”
“I agree!” Kara says.
“I can definitely use some ice cream,” I add.
Kara drives us to the small convenience store on campus, and we get out, laughing.
“You’re on ice cream duty,” Margie instructs me. She points at Kara. “You’re potato chips.” She points at herself with her thumb. “And I’m on candy.”
“Got it,” I say, and we all head in the direction of our items.
My stomach growls when I hit the ice cream aisle, and I scan the endless choices. I’m in the middle of narrowing down my options to three when I jump at the sound of the masculine voice.
“You’re sure out late, and by the way, you look gorgeous.”
I put my hand against my chest, startled, and smile when I see the familiar man. Familiar as in I’ve seen him plenty of times around campus, but not familiar enough that we’ve had a conversation. He looks hot, wearing a green shirt and fitted black sweatpants—nothing like I’ve seen him in before. His short brown hair is wet as though he’s just gotten out of the shower.
My cheeks blush, and I look down to hide the cheesy smile on my face. “I think it should be the other way around.” I gain control of myself and meet his eyes again. They’re a light blue, round, and I could stare at them forever. “I should comment that you’re out late.” I nervously laugh. “I’m a college student. It’s code to stay out late.”
Just Friends (Blue Beech) Page 4