by Molly E. Lee
“Dude,” I said and propped my hand on his chest to push him away from the room. “You’re shaking.”
“What?” Fynn snapped again, finally looking back at me. “No, I’m not.”
“You sure you don’t have a thing for Braylen?” I asked, the shock of seeing him in rage-mode enough to make me force the issue. Fynn was a laid-back guy. It took a lot to set him off like that.
Fynn glared at me so I raised my hands in defense. “Never mind,” I said. “How are things progressing with the school princess?” Katy was a fairly decent girl if you liked the high-maintenance type, but Fynn had had a thing for her for years. Maybe he wasn’t the only one letting loose tonight and entertaining ideas that wouldn’t have been a thought last week.
“Good,” he said. “She’s been…”
“Nice?” I asked when he struggled to finish his sentence. “Figured she’d be back with Don by the end of the night. You’re screwing up a bet for me, but I’m happy for you.” That would be fifty down the drain. There was a running bet on when she and Don would get back together, and I’d bet on tonight.
“You bet on her getting back with Don?” He laughed.
“Fifty bucks.” I smirked. “You know there’s always either a massive breakup or hookup at Lennon’s parties. Looks like I bet on the wrong horse.”
“She has talked about him,” he said, sighing. “Maybe don’t cut your losses just yet.”
Why did it sound like he wanted them to get back together? “Are you drunk?”
“No, man. Are you?”
“I’m on my way,” I said. “But you’ve got Katy dangling by a string, and you’re acting like all you can think about is your BFF with her panties in a twist.”
“And you’re slow dancing with your archnemesis. Which of us has it worse?”
“Touché.” That much was true. How could Zoey feel as amazing as she did, and still be…Zoey? How could I possibly be dying to get back to her even though I was hanging with one of my best friends, and we’d still be…who we’d been all our lives?
Fynn tapped his cup with mine. “How are you holding up?”
I shrugged. I couldn’t even count all the ways in which I wasn’t holding my shit together right now. “I made an ass out of myself earlier today.” At least I could admit that, and talk about it. The other stuff? I wasn’t ready.
“I was there.”
I took another drink, the cold liquid helping wash down the issues that threatened to spew all over my friend. He didn’t need that shit right now and neither did I. “I’m paying for it now, trust me,” I said. The torture of all the ways in which my world was jacked wreaked havoc on my gut, and somehow…it started and ended with Zoey. The anger that had turned to regret that had turned into…what? Longing? Want? I couldn’t get a hold on my thoughts long enough to work it out. Which was new territory for me. Usually I could solve my way out of anything, but today had presented too many errors to compute.
“Care to share the reason behind going rogue for your speech?”
“I just snapped after I lost…” My eyes fell to the contents of my cup, and I swirled the liquid in a circle.
“What did you lose?” he asked.
“Everything.” I shook my head. Maybe I did need to unload some of this crap.
“You need to talk, man?” Fynn asked, and just the fact that he wanted to be there for me was enough. I sucked in a sharp breath and drank another swig down.
“Maybe another time.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
A loud crack of porcelain sounded from the bathroom and I motioned toward the door. “A twenty says Jarred just cracked his head open passing out in there.”
Fynn, ever the good guy, opened the door to make sure he was okay.
“Shut the fucking door!” Jarred yelled, and I tried not to burst out laughing as Fynn yelled, “Ah, man, not cool!” He slammed the door shut on Jarred doing an ungodly prank in Lennon’s bathroom.
“Lennon will kill him,” Fynn said.
“Should’ve bet on him doing an upper decker.” I shook my head. “I didn’t realize their little feud was still going.”
“Still? Dude, it’s an ongoing event that hasn’t stopped since it started in grade school.”
“Who was it again who started the prank war?” I asked, trying to call up the memory.
“I honestly can’t remember. My money is on Jarred,” Fynn said.
“Was it sixth grade that Jarred stole Lennon’s lunch without him knowing and doused the inside of his PB&J with cayenne?”
“Yep,” Fynn said. “And Lennon retaliated by stuffing Jarred’s bags with firecrackers.”
“Jarred was suspended for a week,” I said, laughing as I glanced at the bathroom’s closed door. “Figured this kind of thing would’ve stopped by now. Or at least tonight it would end. I mean, we’ve graduated!” I held my arms out in what I hoped looked like a celebration pose. “It’s time to move on. Off to college and leaving more than half these people in the dust.”
For most people, anyway. The pain of not knowing if I’d be one of the lucky few to attend the college of my dreams did everything to kill the buzz I’d worked up.
Fynn shrugged. “Somehow I feel like Jarred will never grow up. I’m sure if he could, he’d follow Lennon on tour, pranking him in arenas filled with Lennon’s screaming fans.”
“Shit,” I said, realizing I’d lost another bet. “I bet you he was passing out, not pranking. Guess I owe you twenty.” My luck was on fire today.
“Keep it. You may need it to take Zoey out tomorrow.”
I almost choked. “Low blow, man.”
“Good luck,” Fynn said, nodding as he passed me.
“You need it more than me!” I shouted from behind.
“We’ll see about that!” Fynn called over his shoulder.
He’d cracked the joke, but it wasn’t far from my mind. Hell, I’d spent half our conversation wondering where Zoey was, what she was doing, if she’d moved on to brighter things in the time we’d been separated. It wasn’t a stretch to think I’d want to feel the same way again tomorrow. Or the next day.
Yep. I’ve officially lost it.
And if Fynn could see all that, could Zoey, too?
Nausea rolled through my stomach, and I wandered into the kitchen for an ice-cold bottle of water. I scratched Hendrix’s ears for a while, sipping the water and seriously contemplating heading home. The longer I stayed at this party, the crazier my thoughts became.
Maybe it was just the grad night effect, or all that had happened today, or a combination of both, but I was totally prepared to stay all night with Zoey if she wanted me to, even with the huge meeting I had in the morning. And knowing that terrified me.
Chapter Ten
Zoey
I stared at Gordon for a full ten minutes from across the room. He ruffled Hendrix’s fur in the kitchen, drinking his water with his eyes totally distant, like he wasn’t anywhere near the crowded, super loud party.
And you’re officially a creeper.
I pried my eyes off him, clenching the roll of quarters in my hand in an attempt to regain my nerve. Just because the guy smelled great, and we made a badass team at games, and he looked adorable petting Lennon’s dog didn’t mean he wasn’t a jerk.
Right.
But the game of would you rather…? had been fun. He’d been right. We’d answered so many questions the same, our thought processes so close it was almost scary.
Except I wasn’t scared.
Every time he’d explained the reason behind one of his answers, it had made me feel less alone…which was refreshing.
It definitely made plan A much harder to stomach, but it was too late to back down. Julie already had everyone there. There was nothing left to do besides take Gordon. But the timing had to be right. Besides, just because we’d answered some questions the same, and kicked ass at Cornhole, didn’t mean we were meant to be BFFs.
We were lifelong rivals. And de
spite how he was acting now, he’d crossed a line this morning. I had to forge ahead. He deserved to know what it felt like—to be hit by a bus you never saw coming.
Resolved, I headed over to him with an extra swish in my hips. “Hey, there,” I said, my voice pitching more than I’d like.
“Hey,” he said, standing from his crouched position. Hendrix bolted once he realized he’d lost Gordon’s attention. He opened his mouth a couple of times before any words came out. “I think I’m going to take off…” He jerked his thumb toward the front door.
“No!” I blurted. “I mean,” I said, trying desperately to recover. “We’re about to play another game.” I held up the roll of quarters. My heart thudded hard in my chest. If he left, my plan would be ruined. Two more hours. That’s all I needed. Then it would all be over. “They just finished up a round of Kings in the game room. Now it’s time for Quarters.” I grinned, hoping like hell he couldn’t see the cracks in my facade. Pretending like I wasn’t actively destroying him was way harder than I thought, and I’d aced advanced physics.
He licked a few stray drops of water off his lips, and chills raced across my skin. “You want me to play?”
“Of course,” I said and paired it with a shrug like it wasn’t a big deal. He cocked a brow at me, but an almost hopeful smile shaped his lips.
“All right,” he said, and I sighed. I swore at any moment he’d call me out for the fraud I was, but he continued to surprise me with his openness to go along with whatever I said. Probably a direct result of the guilt he felt—the same reasoning behind his apology. Totally for his benefit only, and he was clearly so confident about his meeting with my dad that he wasn’t worried at all about losing sleep. Too bad for him, but at least it was keeping him here, with me.
Because of the plan.
…right?
That’s the only reason I was happy about him extending his arm for me to show him the way.
I looped my hand through his and tugged him down the long hallway until we made it to the game room.
Todd and Jenny stashed the deck of cards they’d used for their game of Kings in the drawer of an end table in the corner of the room. Between some overtly too-public kisses, they gathered up shot glasses and three rows of longneck Corona’s on the main coffee table in the center of the room.
“Yes, the brains are here!” Jenny threw her arms in the air like she’d won a race. “You get them?” She eyed me.
“You know it,” I said, handing her the roll of quarters. We didn’t need nearly that many, but Blaise—Lennon’s second-in-command with Lennon missing—had handed me the bunch when I’d come asking for a few. He’d all but ignored my insisting that I didn’t need the entire roll, and he went back to setting up the rest of Lennon’s stage on the lake. I guess Lennon brought the hammer down more than that guy Braylen obsessed over in those comic book movies she loved.
“Perfect!” Todd jolted at Jenny’s shouts, but he laughed it off, gazing at her with puppy-eyes. That had happened fast.
Almost as fast as finding Gordon kiss-worthy?
I couldn’t argue with myself on that one, but at least I wasn’t the only one losing my mind tonight. Besides, Jenny and Todd weren’t in the same situation as Gordon and me…we were a fluke. And this was an act on my part. Gordon’s? Well, every action he made tonight was clearly motivated by the guilt of what he’d done this morning.
You don’t believe that.
Yes. Yes, I do.
“Do you know how to play?” Todd asked as we plopped on the floor around the table. I scooted close enough to Gordon for our thighs to touch. Not because I wanted to. But because another couple crowded the other side of the table. I hadn’t had a choice.
“I think so,” Gordon said, pushing some stray hair off his forehead. He eyed the shot glasses as Todd passed everyone at the table a quarter. “Basically, whoever’s turn it is has to hit the table with the quarter and hope it pops into the glass.”
“Right,” Todd said, situating himself next to Jenny now that the game was set up. “And if you make it, you get to pick someone to take a drink. Then you take another turn. Make it three times and you get to come up with a rule.”
Gordon nodded, and butterflies flapped in my stomach. I needed to win. Getting Gordon to drink a few more beers would only help my plan come full circle. Not that he wasn’t handling that part mostly on his own. I had rarely seen him at parties—we both had that in common—but I hadn’t even heard rumors of him being a drinker. I was surprised he was so on board with partying all night tonight, especially with the meeting tomorrow. Just what exactly was his reasoning? Because no matter what my father had insinuated, I knew Gordon would never flake out on a business deal. So, was he so pissed about losing the scholarship that he wanted to drink the night away? Or was there something more?
“Got it,” he said, drawing me back to the present.
I forced my eyes off him and watched Jenny fail miserably at her turn. Todd and the other boy missed. The girl won, and made her bae drink. I was up next.
I scooped up the quarter, holding it between my thumb and forefinger. Watching four people take their turns before me had given me an advantage. I’d studied them like any good student, and tracked what they’d done wrong. Instead of focusing on the rim of the shot glass—like each one had done—I honed in on the spot just an inch before it. A deep breath and a quick flick of my wrist, and the quarter bounced off the spot perfectly and tinked into the shot glass.
A round of claps and whoops circled through the room, and Gordon laughed. “Nice,” he said.
I tipped the glass upside down, retrieving my quarter. “You drink.” I pointed at Gordon.
His eyes popped, but he took a drink out of his freshly cracked Corona.
“Your turn again.” Todd urged me onward.
Another flick and another tink. “You again,” I said, smirking right back at Gordon.
He scrunched his eyebrows. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
I swallowed hard. “Maybe.”
Something flashed behind his eyes—it was a draw between utter confusion and the acceptance of a challenge—and it made my stomach dip. I missed my next shot.
“Ah,” Gordon said, rolling his quarter over the back of his knuckles. “She’s human.”
I snapped my eyes to him. Before I could ask him exactly what the hell he meant, he popped his quarter perfectly into the glass. “You know it’s you.” He eyed me, and I drank a sip. He huffed at the tiny amount I swallowed but didn’t call me out on it.
Another turn and another clink of the glass. We had more in common than our academic goals—the boy had studied like I had. We were the same on so many levels and yet, we fought like crazy. How was that possible?
“You.” His brown eyes locked onto mine and I sipped my drink again, my heart racing as he didn’t break my gaze.
“Ugh,” Todd groaned. “At this rate only you two will be drunk.”
Gordon laughed, finally looking at someone else besides me. “Are you saying you’re not already lit?”
A slow, lazy smile spread over Todd’s face. “Nope.”
Gordon rolled his eyes and sank another quarter. He glanced at me but pointed at Todd. “Drink, buddy.”
“All right!” Todd gladly took a huge gulp. “What’s the rule?”
“Oh right,” he said, blinking a couple times.
“How about you make the girls lose an item of clothing any time they say the word drink?” Todd joked, and Jenny smacked him hard in his chest.
Gordon shook his head.
“What?” Todd snapped. “I was just joking!” He kissed Jenny’s neck until she burst out laughing.
“Help me out here,” Gordon whispered, his cheek brushing against mine as he spoke in my ear. “I’m blanking.”
The breath stalled in my lungs with how close he was, and how his soft words sent warm chills across my skin. The notion that he thought I was someone he could ask advice from both thrilled me a
nd made my nerves twist. Or that could be because I could smell him again, which seemed to have a direct line to my crazy-button. Because only an insane girl would be wishing her enemy would keep whispering in her ear like that—he could recite the alphabet for all I cared, as long as he kept talking.
“Um,” I said, stumbling over my own words. New experience. Not exactly fun. My eyes darted over the faces in the room—completely oblivious to the battle raging inside me, the one that screamed to give in to what I was feeling for Gordon, and the other side reminding me how he’d slayed me this morning. I finally spotted the quarter on the table and remembered how to use my brain. “Any time someone says quarter, they have to drink.”
Gordon smiled and I felt it in my bones. “Thanks,” he said. “What she said.” He spoke a little louder as he sat up straight again, and I instantly craved the warmth of his nearness.
I’m in so much trouble.
I focused solely on the game and on the plan, but my body…my heart…wanted what I couldn’t have.
Chapter Eleven
Gordon
“True American!” Jesse shouted as we walked out of the room where we’d just played quarters. “Meyers! Handler! Get over here.” He waved us to Lennon’s den, where people were dragging in wooden chairs, huge pillows, and even a mini-trampoline.
“Uh…I’m definitely lost,” I said, glancing down at Zoey.
“Bray made me play once before.” She grinned. “You think you can handle one more game?”
“Why stop now?” I laughed. Half the night had been jumping from one drinking game to the next, but with Zoey leading the way, I was more than happy to keep it going. At least until my conscience kicked in.
Dad.
I needed some sleep before my big meeting in the morning.
“We’re in!” Zoey said, and I followed her deeper into the room.
Jesse was finishing setting beer cans on a coffee table that rested in the center of the room. They were lined up in diagonal rows surrounding a bottle of whiskey that sat on a pile of books in the middle. “This is the king of the castle,” he said, plopping his hand on the closed bottle. His black nail polish matched the label. “These are his pawns,” he continued, indicating each row of beer. “And there are four sections.” He pointed to each section and all the chairs, pillows, and the mini-trampoline in each corresponding one.