And why does he care what I’m wearing anyway?
I twist the cap off the clear liquor bottle, slam it against the surface, and reach for the stack of red Solo cups in the center of the table. After grabbing the top one from the stack and inspecting it for cleanliness, I scoop some ice into it from a large, plastic bowl, then add a generous splash of liquor followed by some Orange Crush soda.
Which I regret instantly.
Orange Crush will always remind me of him.
Theo.
Teddy.
The boy next door who happened to be my hero.
Once upon a time, anyway.
With a frown, I shove the memory of warm summers and drama-free childhoods away and shoot the entire drink back, keeping my throat open so it slides down without protest before almost choking on an ice cube.
“Whoa there,” Mia interrupts. She sidles up next to me and pats my back. The girl looks like a badass. Someone who’s a little on the intimidating side but has a heart of gold. She has tattoos on her left arm, piercings lining the shell of her ear, and a past rough enough to make even the most numb, heartless bastard weep. She hasn’t opened up to me about it, but I’ve picked up a piece or two. Something about her father being a drug addict who was murdered a few years ago, though I haven’t asked for details. Not yet, anyway.
She’s also insanely good at reading people, and I hate knowing it’s exactly what she’s doing to me at this very moment.
With a quick side-eye toward her, I grumble, “Don’t judge.”
“No judgment,” she clarifies as a few hockey players join us in the kitchen and start reaching around our bodies to make their own drinks. Keeping her voice low, she adds, “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Are you sure?” She watches as I splash some more vodka into my cup and top it off with Sprite while glaring at the Crush soda as if it offended me.
I chug this drink down, too, clearing my throat to relieve the burn.
Okay, that one was a little stronger than the last.
Mia frowns. “Blake––”
“I’m fine,” I rush out.
With a sigh, she touches my shoulder. The same shoulder left bare thanks to her dress I’m wearing. The dress that somehow caught a certain someone’s attention as soon as we walked up to the infamous Taylor House belonging to the devil himself.
I shrug out of her grasp and pour another drink, making a mental note to pace myself after this. Heaven forbid I end up shitfaced in my brother’s best friend’s house.
Well, technically, I guess it’s Colt’s house, too, since he lives here. But he doesn’t have quite the same stick up his ass a certain someone else seems to have, so I’m not sure if he counts.
So. Fucking. Annoying.
Once the players have their drinks, they disperse, giving us another ounce of privacy.
“Seriously, Blake. You sure you’re okay?” Mia asks. “Do you want me to get you some water or something?”
“Look around, Mia. It’s a party. A college party. And what does one normally do at college parties?” I tip my cup in her direction, then lift it to my lips. “Drink, of course.”
“Drinking at a party is fine as long as it’s to have fun and not to erase a certain brother’s best friend from your mind.”
My lips purse, and I take another small-ish sip. So sue me. “Who said I’m trying to erase a certain brother’s best friend from my mind?” I lift my hand and stop her from replying. “You know what? Don’t answer that. Because it doesn’t even matter. I’m not going to do this anymore,” I decide, more to myself than anyone else. “It’s like you said. This is the perfect time to turn over a new leaf. Be who I want to be, attract who I want to attract, and I’m not going to play his game again. I’m done.”
“So, what are you going to do?” she asks.
“I’m going to…” I bite my lower lip as my gaze catches on a group of people cheering in the backyard. A pair of French doors are propped open in the kitchen, probably to let in the fresh air. They lead to the back of the property where a patio table is set up. It’s littered with red Solo cups, and there’s a concrete pad beneath it. My smile widens when a Ping-Pong ball bounces off the surface and into the grass. “I’m gonna play a game of Beer Pong. Wanna join?”
She frowns. “Blake, are you sure Beer Pong is a good idea?”
I’m not sure if it’s the copious amount of alcohol streaming through my system or my newfound desire to move on with my life and make a new name for myself. But at this point, I don’t really care. Besides, if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s being one of the guys. It’s all Theo ever saw me as, anyway. And the guys outside? It looks like they’re having fun. I’m in desperate need of something fun.
“Seems like an excellent idea to me,” I announce, keeping my head held high. “You wanna come?”
With another sigh, she looks out the open doors leading to the backyard and turns to me. “I’m gonna go use the ladies’ room first. I’ll meet you out there.” She points her finger at me. “Don’t get bombed.”
“Who said I’m gonna get bombed?”
Her gaze narrows as if she isn’t convinced. “I’m serious. I really don’t want to clean up puke tonight.”
I laugh and head toward the exit as I call over my shoulder, “I’ll be fine! See you in a few.”
I walk over to the Beer Pong setup a few feet away, the cool wind kissing my cheeks and bringing an ounce of clarity with it. There’s a small crowd––most of them are guys––and they’re laughing as a Ping-Pong ball plops into a cup. The person closest to the cup groans and downs the warm beer inside. Once he’s finished, he raises his hands in surrender, slightly stumbling to the left. “All right, man.” He laughs and tosses the cup onto the grass. “You win.”
“Any more takers?” his opponent calls, searching the crowd huddled around the table. Apparently, I’m not the only one who finds the game interesting.
Stepping forward, I announce, “I’ll play.”
All eyes turn to me.
Clearly, most of the guys are hockey players. There’s something about the way athletes carry themselves. Confidence bordering on arrogance. An aura screaming they’re on top of the world, even when they’re drunk off their asses. They also like to stay together. Like a pack of wolves or something. It’s rare to find one on their own out in the wild. And tonight isn’t any different.
They each take their turn scanning me up and down, probably wondering who the hell I am since they’ve never seen me before. Most of their mouths turn up into smirks as one of them––the previous winner-––motions to the now-empty space across from him.
“Be my guest.”
The guy’s cute. Or at least I think he is. There’s only one of him so far, so I don’t think my beer goggles are skewing his features, but the night’s still young. Dark, curly hair cropped short to his head. Dark skin. Dark eyes. Kind eyes. And his smile? Hello, handsome. His straight white teeth are freaking perfect and only add to his chiseled jaw and attractive features. He’s balancing himself on a set of crutches. His boyish grin is showcased as he laughs at something one of the other players is saying, though I don’t hear what’s said as I close the distance between us.