“Sounds like a great idea,” I return.
And it does.
Because I’m desperate. To erase Theo’s harsh words and the way he lied to me about giving me a real chance to be his friend. The way he lied when he promised to let me do my own thing. The way I actually believed him.
I’m a fool.
16
THEO
Throwing on my T-shirt, I pour myself a drink, and stare at the door to the basement as if it’s offended me. I didn’t want to throw a party tonight, but when you’re known for being the party guy, certain expectations are harder to break than I’d like to admit. And having a party every Friday night at the Taylor House is one of them.
Pretty sure I should get a reward for that shit. But what do I know?
“Hey, Theo,” Missy purrs, dragging her hand along my bare arm.
I can’t believe she dared me to take off my shirt during the game. I can’t believe I actually listened. Now, she has the wrong idea about us, which is the last thing I need. She’s one of the newer puck bunnies who likes to come around. I haven’t slept with her, though. I do have some standards.
Or at least, it’s what I tell myself.
Thanks to Blake’s observation about my love life the other night, it’s been harder for me to talk to women, let alone sleep with them. Not that I’ve slept with anyone since I kissed Blake a few months ago, but it’s beside the point.
The point is, I shouldn’t have taken the bait during the game. I shouldn’t have taken off my shirt just to see if Blake’s eyes would flair with jealousy. They did, but that’s beside the point too. I should’ve never agreed to Strip Pong. I should’ve never allowed them to start the game in the first place. I should’ve never thrown this party or agreed to look at Blake like she’s a friend when she’s still very clearly my best friend’s little sister.
But the cherry on top of my clusterfuck? I should’ve never seen Blake in a white, lacy bra. Or let her disappear with Burrows downstairs––where his bedroom is––five minutes ago.
Five. Fucking. Minutes. And as the seconds slowly tick by, I’m driven more and more insane.
My attention darts to the door leading to the basement for the hundredth time.
“So, do you wanna dance?” Missy asks, pressing her tits to my arm.
No. I don’t want to dance. I want to see if Burrows and Blake are still holed up in his room. I want to see if he’s kissing her or if she finally realized he isn’t the guy for her. I want Missy to realize I’m not interested instead of pawing at my arm like a bitch in heat.
Yeah, I want a lot of things.
And none of them are on the main floor.
“Come on,” Missy prods. “We should dance.”
I shrug her off and disappear through the basement door without a backward glance. It’s a dick move. I could’ve at least lied and made up an excuse. But I don’t have time to make a puck bunny feel better about me ditching her, and I can’t take it anymore. I pissed Blake off. And a pissed-off Blake is capable of anything. Including sleeping with a guy just to prove she can, knowing it’ll get under my skin.
Fuck this.
In the basement, there’s a pool table, a dart board, and an entertainment center where the guys and I like to play Call Of Duty or watch movies, but the screen’s off for now. A few people are scattered around. Some are playing a game of pool, while a few others are dry humping on the couches and sticking their tongues down each other’s throats.
None of them are Blake, though. And I almost wish they were. Because if she were out here, she wouldn’t actively be losing her virginity, and I wouldn’t be seconds from barging into my buddy’s bedroom in order to stop that exact thing from happening.
There are three bedrooms in the basement and one bathroom all of the guys share. It’s why their rent is cheaper. It’s also why the players who room down here are all invested in winning the bet for Blake’s virginity. Most of them don’t have as much cash to spare and would love to win the pot.
The idea makes me feel like little bugs are crawling along my skin, leaving me itchy and uncomfortable.
This is a mistake.
Fuck my promise to stay away from her.
And fuck my loyalty to my teammates for keeping her in the dark so they could get away with popping her cherry for money.
My hand clenches at my side as I stride toward the last door on the right and shove it open. It flings against the wall with a heavy thud, followed by a screech.
“What the fuck, man?” Burrows shouts.
He’s still shirtless as he glares at me over his shoulder near the wall on the opposite side of the room. His torso covers the Thorne in my side from my view, which only makes shit worse. Is she naked? Was I too late? Did I just walk in on my best friend’s little sister getting fucked for the first time?
“Get the hell out,” I order.
Burrows turns around and faces me fully but keeps using his body to block me from seeing Blake. His jeans are unbuckled, and his chest is puffed out while a pair of green eyes peek at me from behind him.
“This is my room,” Burrows reminds me. Cooly. Calmly.
I tear my gaze away from what little I can see of Blake and look back at one of my good friends. Or at least, he used to be. Right now, I want to beat the shit out of him.
“Yeah, I know this is your room. And if you don’t want to end the lease early, I suggest you leave it so I can have a chat with Blake.”
“Are you threatening me?” Burrows’ hands tighten as he stalks closer.
“Yeah. I am,” I reply. “Get the hell out of this room. Now.”
Blake snaps out of whatever reverie she’d been in and rushes after him, grabbing his arm. “Uh, bullshit. He’s not leaving,” she argues.
“Yes, he is,” I growl.
She steps around him, her lacy, white bra and dark jeans leaving little to the imagination as relief pools in my stomach.
I’m not too late.
Sandwiching herself between Burrows and me, she seethes, “What the hell is your problem, Theo?”
I step closer, and Burrows does the same, practically squishing Blake between us as our nostrils flare.
“My problem?” I laugh. “Why don’t you ask your friend what my problem is?”
“Oh, so now he’s my friend and not yours?” she counters. “Since when?”
“Since he put a bet on your virginity,” I spit.
Her breath hitches, and the blood drains from her face. Like it’s finally sunk in. Like she’s realized I’m not the enemy anymore. Like she’s realized I’m trying to protect her. The vice around my ribcage eases, giving me a second to breathe before she replaces her surprise and hurt with a look of indifference. One that fucking chills me to the bone.
“Is it true?” she asks no one in particular. Dazed yet controlled. No tears. No anger. Nothing but the same dose of cold indifference.
“Blake, I can explain,” Burrows starts.
She looks up at him, her upper lip curling and her messy red hair covering half her face, though she doesn’t bother to push it away. The combination makes her look even more wild, more unpredictable, than ever.