I deserve this, especially since Paxton is the reason I’m going through this, thanks to this distraction of epic proportions called his little sister. In front of me, the girl runs a hand down my thigh, pulling every ounce of my attention in her direction.
“Lincoln,” Pax barks my name, his patience thinning.
I spin to face him, my annoyance evolving into anger. The last thing I want to do is find Raegan. Right now, I need to release these fantasies I’ve been having of her with some other chick so I can go back to seeing her as an asexual being. “She’s probably having fun. It’s her birthday. You should try—” My words come to an abrupt stop as I notice his eyes are wide and bright, a heavy crease marring his brow as he scopes the room. I know this look, but not well. After all, Pax is usually laid back and easy going—concern isn’t something we spend a lot of time with. But right now, it’s apparent something has him worried.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Drugs?” We went to a party last year where someone had spiked the keg with Molly. It was a dick move that led to an investigation and later an arrest. Four girls were raped, and several couldn’t remember the night. The memory of that night never veers too far from my thoughts when we go out.
He shakes his head with a tight jerk, then flicks his thumb over the screen of his phone and hands it to me.
‘Dean Lawson caught with his pants down.’ The headline reads below a video of Dr. Lawson getting a blowie by a woman who is most definitely not Mrs. Lawson.
The video replays several times on a loop. It’s a grainy black and white image, but it’s definitely Dr. Lawson. “Oh shit.”
“It was emailed to the entire student body,” he says. “I need to find Rae.”
I quickly nod my understanding. “Okay, you go check out the front, I’ll circle around the back.”
The house is filled with people, everyone in denial that the weekend is coming to an end. A girl calls my name, but I keep moving, searching for Rae’s gray top.
“President! Smile!” An arm wraps around the back of my neck, and a phone appears in my face, showing my reflection beside a girl with bright blonde hair. The phone flashes, and the girl smacks a kiss to my cheek before moving on. I don’t watch where she retreats to or wonder who she’s going to share my picture with—this is becoming my new norm.
I see her then. Blonde hair, gray shirt, a calculating expression as Derek laughs at something she’s said.
Fucking hell.
I lie to myself and say obligation and friendship are what has my pace quickening, the energy in my chest growing and expanding, reminding me of what it’s like to be on the field when we’re down, and I know the game is resting on my shoulders. The embers in my chest start to burn brighter as well, a concoction that has my adrenaline pumping.
Derek turns as I get near, his smile falling into a frown as he pulls both shoulders back. “Beckett,” he says. He’s one of the few who calls me by my last name rather than my moniker. Behind him, Raegan cringes as her eyes dance across the room, returning to me before she shakes her head. Her pupils are dilated, and her cheeks are flushed, making that energy in my chest expand further. She stares at me, allowing me to briefly study the light hue of her blue eyes.
“Do you need something?” Derek asks. “Water? A ride home? Some fucking pride, maybe?”
I step closer. “Get the hell out of my way.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he says, smiling with so much malice and intent I want to haul off and punch him. I’m ready for it—consequences be damned—but then Rae shakes her head again, this time in defeat rather than a warning, and she walks away.
“Rae,” I call, but she doesn’t stop.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. How obvious does she need to be?” Derek taunts.
I spin around so fast on him, he flinches, expecting my fist. “Stay the fuck away from her. I’m not going to tell you again.”
“Or what?” he snarls.
Threats dance along my tongue, each one uglier than the last. “You almost got her killed. You want redemption? Move the fuck on. I beat your ass on the field every fucking game, and that’s been enough, but if you push this—you keep trying to insert yourself into her life—I’ll fucking ruin you.”
I don’t give him the chance to respond. I have nothing left to say.
I find Rae near the kitchen, sending a message to someone. “You ready to go?” I ask.
She starts to shake her head. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to do this?”
“We did, but—"
“Rae!” Poppy appears, her face split with a smile. She’s definitely drunk as she stumbles to a stop and hiccups, her entire body moving from the action. Raegan laughs, reaching forward to steady her. “Are you okay?”
Poppy nods. “I’m great. Where have you been?”
Rae hitches her thumb behind her, in the wrong direction of where I just found her.
A guy appears behind Poppy. He’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans pulled so high I’m not sure he has a ball sack and is wearing a black tee that’s equally as tight with a backward baseball hat. He eyes me, his brows raised with a silent challenge.
I can’t hide my scoff. The emo looks like a dickless tool.
“Rae, this is Ricky. Ricky, this is my best friend, Rae.”
“You have a dude’s name.” he says, shaking her hand.
“It’s short for Raegan,” she tells him.
Emo shrugs. “Wasn’t Raegan a dude?”
Poppy laughs. “I’m named after a narcotic.”
Rae looks unsettled for half a second, but Poppy eyes me, and her smile broadens. “Lincoln! What are you doing? Are you here to talk with Rae?”
I glance at Rae as she withdraws the same damn water bottle from Poppy’s purse and takes a long drink. Poppy yells what sounds like a battle cry, then reaches for the bottle.
“Lincoln, this is Ricky,” Poppy gives me the same introduction. “Isn’t he cute?”
I can’t tell who she’s posing the question to, but I offer my hand. It’s not intended to be a challenge, simply manners, but douche face tries to show me he’s tough by squeezing my hand as hard as he can. Dude doesn’t realize I squeeze fucking tennis balls for a couple of hours every day to strengthen my grip. I constrict my hold, smiling because I could easily break a couple of fingers, and he likely doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t reciprocate the smile, but he also doesn’t try anacondaing my hand anymore.
“I’m going to go find something to drink? You want anything?” He looks to Poppy.
She shakes her head, smiling at him.
I consider threatening him. Warn him that he better come back and at least part ways amicably rather than make a dumbass excuse, but she’s standing too close to not overhear.
“I don’t think he’s coming back,” Rae says, standing on her toes, watching emo walk away.
“Who? Ricky?” Poppy asks. Rae nods. Poppy folds her hand with a dismissive wave. “I hope not. I told you, I’m not looking for a boyfriend, just fun.”
Rae stifles a giggle. “Well, did you have some fun?”
“Kind of…” Poppy’s nose scrunches. “Not really. We got to third base, and I learned he didn’t have any idea what he was doing.” She giggles again.