by Abby Donne
“It’s no welcome bash,” Emma muttered cheekily as they walked up the paint chipped porch.
A kid in a Stanberry Hockey shirt and ball cap sat on a stool outside the front door. It was overkill, really. There was such a thing as too much school spirit. He eyed them as they walked up, head cocked to the side.
“Five bucks each to get in, ladies,” He announced, sticking an arm out when Layla went to step through the door.
She looked at him, lip curled. “Uh, no? Tyson invited us.”
“Yeah. Invited everyone here. Pony up or get lost.”
Emma pulled out her phone and wiggled her wallet style case around until she pulled out a ten. She slapped it in the guy’s waiting palm and frowned at him before nudging Layla with her hip. “Let’s go. Scout here is giving me heartburn.”
“You’re sweet. Find me later,” He called out after them as they walked into the living room.
It wasn’t as packed as she imagined it would be. None of the furniture was pushed aside. Music was coming from the surround sound mounted by the television and there were people hanging out, but the real party seemed to be outside. Layla barely had time to take note of the kind of place Tyson and his friends lived in before Emma was dragging her to the kitchen, which was also basically empty, and through the back door.
There they found the real party.
The same playlist was going on in the surprisingly large backyard. There wasn’t a porch; it was more like a concrete stump. But the yard was defined in chain link, containing the mass of partying students. Two separate pong tables were set up in one corner of the yard. Another had a folding card table full of empty cups and some liquor bottles and a keg was set up. A few booze coolers were tucked beneath it, their contents already looking a little low. It was relatively early for a house party to already be in full swing, but it was a Thursday night and not a weekend.
“He was kind of cute,” Emma commented, fluttering her eyes back to the house.
“If you like prepubescent boys, you creep.”
She laughed, “Don’t say that!”
“I mean, he was definitely staring at your boobs. I could get you the hookup. I don’t know how promising in bed a guy who is forced to sit outside a party would be, though.”
“I’m still on the Elias train. He wore the tightest pants yesterday. His ass makes me jealous.”
Putting her hands between them Layla started to mimic different sizes. “Like this? Or like this?”
“Oh definitely the second one,” Emma grinned. Her twinkling eyes shifted. “Unless your question is ‘Is manchego cheese the most underrated cheese in existence?’ the answer is no. Sorry.”
Trying not to laugh, she turned to face a very confused looking Tyson. Confused, but still looking like the best damn slice of prosciutto on a charcuterie board. Goddamn Emma and her cheese fascination. Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a plain white shirt with just enough of a v-cut to make her sweat, he looked a hell of a lot different than he did when he strolled into class wearing athletic shorts and a Nike t-shirt.
This wasn’t her thing – the clean lines and sneakers look. Not that she really had a type, really. Sports weren’t her thing. She didn’t gravitate towards guys that looked like Tyson. Yet there she was, drooling over him because his wavy chocolate locks were actually styled and he sprayed on some delicious woodsy cologne.
Layla didn’t feel bad for staring because Tyson’s eyes were on her body, the heat from his gaze making a flush work its way up her neck. At least she could blame it on the humidity. His dark eyes dipped back down to her exposed midriff before traveling up to her face. His tongue darted out and she nearly moaned.
“We’re in a committed relationship,” Emma continued. Looking more confused than aroused now, Tyson tilted his head towards her. Emma did a finger dance between her body and Layla’s. “We just bought a rug together. It’s tufted wool and this gorgeous royal blue color. Anyway, I’m sure you know how big of a deal it is to commit to purchase a rug with your partner. It’s very serious between us. Back to the cheese, though. Do you like manchego? I’ll let you stay if you do. It’s my favorite nutty cheese.”
When she paused to take a breath, Tyson itched the side of his jaw. “Uh, what?”
“It was an easy question,” Layla smiled at him. She offered up a wink and immediately regretted it. This wasn’t a night for her to let her crazy fantasizes loose. This was a night to make Emma happy. “Your feelings on cheese. What are they?”
“I’m from Wisconsin.” Despite the questions lingering in his eyes, he seemed to jump ship and go from confused to amused. “I kind of have to like cheese.”
“No shit.” Emma seemed genuinely involved in the topic now. “Tell me all about the wonderful world of cheese production. Did you work at a cheese mart? I need all the details. Oh! What’s your favorite cheese? Like I said, manchego or bust, right?”
“I worked at my dad’s dealership detailing cars, so no. No cheese mart. Not so sure about cheese production, either. I have no idea what manchego is, but I like muenster cheese the best, I guess.”
Emma scoffed, looking seriously offended. Maybe the tequila was hitting her a little harder than it was Layla. “Muenster cheese? And you say you’re from Wisconsin.”
“Alright, maybe we don’t belittle people based on their cheese preferences,” Layla said, patting Emma on the shoulder. She looked at Tyson and tried to look apologetic. “She gets really fired up about cheese.”
“I can tell,” He said, smiling over his red Solo cup. He stared at her like he did in the classroom, but now there wasn’t anything stopping her from rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “I’m glad you decided to come.”
She cleared her throat and tried to put distance between them. For Emma. Tonight is for Emma.
“Yeah, thanks for that door charge back there. Really appreciate it.”
“You should’ve told him to get me. I didn’t want you to have to pay. It’s mostly for the idiots that come and drink too much then puke on my lawn.”
“I don’t need special treatment,” She muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. Which, of course, drew his eyes to her tits. It wasn’t her intention. Honestly.
“Wait a second.” Emma’s entire face lit up as she started putting two and two together. “You’re Tyson?”
“In the flesh. Layla been talking about me?” He wiggled his brows, looking a lot smugger than he should have.
“No,” She insisted while Emma said,
“Just that your dick looks good in your gym shorts.”
“You did not just say that!” Layla gasped, swatting at her friend’s arm. Emma’s shit-eating grin only made Layla want to strangle her more. She said that in total confidence!
“I’m flattered,” Tyson chuckled, placing a hang over his heart. Goddamn it, he looked so good when he was relaxed. She never thought she was attracted to smiles before him.
“Emma, why don’t you find us drinks,” Layla suggested. The unspoken before you put your foot in your mouth and embarrass me anymore followed, just making Emma giggle and throw up a peace sign as she walked towards the keg.
“I like your friend,” Tyson commented, stepping closer.
“She’s already had tequila tonight. Forget everything she’s said or will say.”
“Like I’m going to ignore the fact that you’ve been staring at my dick in class.” He took another step, bringing them so close his arm was brushing against hers. His voice was husky but somehow still playful, and she decided nothing sounded better. “Nice try, but not happening.”
“Tyson,” She warned.
She knew next to nothing about him, but there was no denying the way he lit her up from the inside out. Still, it couldn’t happen. They couldn’t happen.
“Hey! You showed. I was starting to think my boy here was going to have an aneurism from waiting for you.”
Grateful wasn’t a word she’d ever use to describe Heath, but in that moment she was inc
redibly so for his distraction. He clamped a hand down on Tyson’s shoulder. Already looking blitzed out of his mind, he seemed oblivious to the moment he interrupted.
“Aneurism is a big word for you, isn’t it?” Tyson bit out.
Standing next to Heath looking a little less oblivious and more amused was a Captain America type of dude. Maybe that had something to do with his superhero shirt and his crew cut. Feeling like the odd man out, she introduced herself,
“Hi. I’m Layla.”
“Steven. I live with these fuckers.”
Oh, yes. Steven. It was perfect. How was he not cosplaying Captain America in his free time?!?
“And I’m Emma, her best friend and not her dedicated partner with whom she just bought a gorgeous rug with from Pottery Barn. My apartment is rug free, sadly. I can’t commit to one.” Always one to make an entrance, Emma pushed her way back to Layla’s side and passed her a red cup. “Now that the pleasantries are done, care to tell me why you’re serving such shit beer?”
“I’m not paying for everyone here to drink craft beers,” Tyson said. Whatever moment they were having was long gone, and he seemed more annoyed than aroused. Unfortunately, it still turned Layla on.
“It’s a house party. I have some jello shots stashed away, if you’re interested,” Heath smirked.
Layla stepped in and shook her head, muttering, “Nope. Not happening.”
“Well I won’t be able to get drunk off this water beer, and I already decided I was getting drunk tonight.”
It was Tyson’s voice that cut through their bickering. It sounded a little annoyed and extra sexy. “I have a twelve pack of Sam Adams and some vodka upstairs. Is that okay?”
“That isn’t necessary. This is fine.”
He gave her a wry smile and turned around to head to the house. She watched him disappear behind the swinging screen door, only vaguely aware of Emma saying,
“Now about those jello shots…”
chapter five
He was royally fucked.
Layla had him so hot he could barely think. Walking around with her bare stomach showing, the little belly button piercing taunting him with her every movement, and her ass cheeks barely covered by her torn denim shorts. She looked good enough to eat but that wasn’t anything new. Heath was an ass for telling her he’d been waiting for her to show up. He had been, but she didn’t need to know that. Looking desperate wasn’t going to get her in his bed.
Dipping upstairs for a breath was kind of a pansy move, but her friend – while amusing – was driving him crazy and he needed a few seconds alone. Everything about Layla had him second guessing his actions. Was she there for him or was she there for her friend? Did she even like him? God, he sounded like a fucking twelve year old. Actually, he couldn’t remember a time when he agonized over a girl. Back in middle school he was all about hockey. Even the few girlfriends he had in high school came second to the game. He wasn’t a fucking robot, but it was harder to form an emotional attachment to a girl when you were focused on getting into the NHL.
That’s still your goal, fuck face.
Walking back into the yard after grabbing the cooler he stashed up in his bedroom, Tyson ignored the bitter jealousy that erupted in his gut when he saw Layla laughing with Nate. He wasn’t good enough for her. Hell, Tyson wasn’t good enough for her. He was a selfish prick, though, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Nate put his grubby hands all over her.
“She’s too sober for beer pong,” Heath complained, hitching a thumb in Layla’s direction.
“I thought you were incapable of getting drunk and could beat me regardless of how much you’ve had to drink,” She countered, eyebrow arched.
Nate snorted, “Stick around until about four am and you’ll see how capable of getting drunk he actually is. Vomit central.”
“Fuck you dude.”
“I’m just saying,” Nate shrugged.
“Hey, where’s that chick from the gym?” Tyson asked. Nate was standing too close to Layla. It was his spot. “You know, the barely legal one you were trying to fuck? The entire reason we’re having this party?”
Heath laughed louder than he should have. Yeah, vomit central was right around the corner. Tyson sure as hell wasn’t cleaning puke up from their bathroom. That was for sure.
Nate, on the other hand, didn’t find it nearly as amusing. “She’s legal. Turns out she thinks football players are more fun than hockey players, though.” He tilted his head towards the house. “She had her tongue down Kevin’s throat last time I saw her.”
“Ouch,” Layla winced, stealing the words right out of Tyson’s mouth. Despite the sympathetic look on her face, she drawled, “Sounds like a real winner. Missed out big time with her.”
“Don’t I fucking know it,” He muttered, lifting his cup.
“I’ll share my beer with you, dude. Solidarity or whatever,” Tyson grinned, lifting his cooler. He knew for a fact Nate wasn’t drinking the cheap keg shit; he was a total beer snob and liked the nastiest IPAs.
“Don’t make me look like a loser in front of our guests. Uncool.”
“Too late,” Heath snorted. His eyes scanned the backyard and he looked at Layla. “I’m going to look for Emma. She shoulda been back by now.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be a creep. I’d hate to have to murder you.”
His hands went up. “I’m the most un-creepy person in the entire fucking universe. Chill.”
“Uh huh,” She murmured, totally unconvinced. She did an ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ motion while he walked away.
“He’s like eighty seven percent harmless,” Tyson commented, nudging his way between her and Nate. Fuck it.
She looked up at him with a warm smile. “Oh, I know. Emma, on the other hand, is like thirty percent harmless on a good day. I probably should’ve warned him, but he’ll figure it out himself.”
“I feel like a fucking third wheel,” Nate grumbled, scowling at the ground.
“Maybe take the hint buddy.”
He lifted his middle finger and strolled away, leaving Tyson and Layla alone at last. Well, as alone as they could be at a house party. If he knew she wouldn’t laugh in his face he would invite her up to his room. Obviously he wanted to see her ride his fingers and scream his name, but he also wanted to talk to her. She was cool. Funny. The opposite of girls that tried latching onto him.
“That was kind of rude,” She said, calling him out. Frowning, she stared in the direction his roommate wandered off to.
“It’s fine.” It was, really. They had an understanding. They were too old to call dibs on chicks, and Layla definitely wasn’t a chick, but Tyson was into her and Nate would respect that. If he was pissed come tomorrow they’d talk and clear the air, but he had a feeling his friend would find comfort with someone else for the night and all would be forgotten. Not wanting her to be upset and leave before he had a chance to warm her up, he lifted his cooler lid as a peace offering. “Want one?”
“Sure,” She shrugged.
He squatted to pull two drinks out of the ice when he felt someone saddle up beside him. He passed a drink up to Layla and looked over, biting back a groan. It was one of their neighbors; the guy definitely wasn’t in college anymore, but for every BBQ or party they’d hosted in the two years Tyson lived at the off-campus house the guy tried blending in with their group. The one time they sent him back to his place, pissed off and red faced, the cops showed up twenty minutes later because a ‘noise complaint’ was issued. Ever since that Tyson made it a point to smile politely at the fuck face and stomach a few minutes of polite conversation.
He was almost tempted to risk it and tell him to fuck off, but he gave Layla a look he hoped read apologetic and started chatting about the upcoming season with the guy. He didn’t know shit about hockey, but he sure acted like he did. Normally it was entertaining to press his buttons and toss out random words trying to get him to work them into conversation, but tonight Tyson just wanted a minu
te of peace.
Peace at a party. What a great idea.
He spaced when he brought up the draft, muttering something generic. He’d gone to the Blackhawks development camp the past two years but that wasn’t an in to the major leagues. So many guys banked on making it big just to get stuck in the AHL. His dad promised one day he’d be skating for the NHL, but his dad talked a big game. Talent wasn’t enough to get him to the top. He busted his ass on the ice. Busted his ass at the development camps. This was his year to turn those whispers into contracts. There was always the fear of messing up and losing his scholarship, but now there was more at stake. Much more.
By the time he pried himself out of his neighbor’s grasp Layla was nowhere to be seen. She dipped out pretty early into the conversation, but he hoped the chat would be quick enough he could follow her. The universe wasn’t on his side, apparently. It seemed like more bodies piled outside in the ten minutes he was preoccupied making it a lot harder to look for her.
Toting his cooler of sloshing half melted ice cubes and beer around, he shuffled around the yard feeling more and more like a loser with every step. Nate was making out with someone up against the fence. At least he was having a good time. Not wanting to be the type of guy that chased after a girl, Tyson was just about to give up and go searching for Heath. It was just about the time of night he started trying to have burping contests with everyone.
Then he saw her. Sitting on the grass against the same fence Nate was performing an exorcism against, she had her head tilted back and her eyes closed. Between her legs rested the beer bottle he gave her before she disappeared. Panic fluttered through his body for a moment, but she barely had anything to drink so she definitely wasn’t passed out.