Fuck.
“Hey, dickbag. Ready to lose?” Brock’s voice sounds from the other end of the table.
I step around Connor, face-to-face with Brock and Corbin. They scowl at me and then at Connor.
“Hey, boys,” I say, wiggling my fingers in a little wave, and then I look at Connor. “I’m ready to kick some asshole ass.”
17
Corbin
I want to punch the douche bag’s face in. With every throw and high five he gives her. When he nudges her shoulder with his own. When his hand rests on her lower back for a moment. I know I don’t have a claim on her, but fuck if I haven’t thought about her every day since the marina. Since the moment I knew that I had to let her go before we both got in over our heads. Brock and Bodhi weren’t thrilled, but they haven’t given me any grief over my decision. We will figure out another way to get the information we need.
She thinks I don’t notice the way her eyes cut to mine with each touch he gives her. She thinks I don’t notice how she looks my way when she makes a cup. She thinks her expression is impassive, that she doesn’t have her feelings written across her face for me to see, but she does.
“It’s your turn,” Brock says, elbowing me.
I look at him. “What?”
Oh, beer pong. Right.
I shoot the ping-pong ball and sink it, and Brock whoops next to me. I don’t let myself smile though. I keep my walls up, my shield on my face, and act as if seeing Landry over there with Connor fucking Stanson isn’t ruining my concentration and making me think murderous thoughts.
She doesn’t belong to you, I try to remind myself, but I want her to. I want the one girl I can’t have. Just my fuckin’ luck.
We beat their asses, and I don’t feel one bit bad about it. The faster I can split them up, the better. I know; I’m a selfish bastard, but I can’t help it. I didn’t think it through when Bodhi told us he had invited some kids from Heywood. We tried to tell him it was a bad idea, but he wasn’t going to be swayed. He had an ulterior motive. I know it has to do with Trixie, but that’s Bodhi’s battle to fight. We effectively put a ban on Landry around Almadale, but Heywood doesn’t answer to us. And now, I have to watch her having fun with someone else.
“Your obsession is showing,” Brock says, leaning nonchalantly against the table, eyes on the crowd of our classmates having fun.
“Shut up,” I growl, putting both hands up behind my head.
I see a few girls staring at me, but a quick scowl has them looking somewhere else. I’ve been in a downward spiral for a month, unable to entertain even the idea of being with someone else. All I’ve had for that time is my right hand, and after a while, it doesn’t fully satisfy me anymore.
I’m in a funk, and I know Brock and Bodhi are tired of it.
Hell, I’m tired of it. I need to get laid. Maybe that will help.
I watch Landry walk off with Trixie, fighting the urge to smile when Connor goes in the opposite direction.
Good fucking riddance.
The rest of the games are wrapping up around us, so the tournament should be progressing soon. We are down to the last four teams playing on two tables and then the championship. Brock and I have been the winners for the last two years. Yeah, I get that this is technically for the senior class, but seeing as how the Montgomery yacht, Pearl, is used, we’ve been attending since freshman year. I’m not complaining.
“Where have you been?” I ask as Bodhi slides up next to us, arms around two girls who are wearing bikinis that barely qualify as items of clothing.
He has a wolfish grin on his face as he looks down at them.
“Question answered,” I mutter.
“I saw something interesting,” he says, cocking an eyebrow, and I lean back against the table, folding my arms across my chest. “The blue guest room was looking pretty occupied when we were on our way up.”
“What’s your point?” Brock asks, rearranging the cups back into a triangle for the next game.
“My point is”—he leans over, dramatically eyeing me up and down and then looking back at his brother—“you wouldn’t give two shits, Brock. But our boy here might.” His grin turns wolfish again, and my heart sinks.
That can only mean one thing. That Landry is part of the couple occupying the damn blue guest room. What makes it even worse is that it’s my room. When I stay here, that’s always the one I sleep in, and now, it’s going to be tainted. This day is turning horrible pretty quickly.
“Who?” I growl.
Bodhi smiles even wider, if that’s possible. “Landry.”
“I know that, dipstick. Who is she with?” I stalk toward him, and he pulls the girls in closer, reminding me that we have an audience.
We always have an audience, and I’m forgetting myself.
“Don’t even think about it, man. Let it go,” Brock says, putting a hand to my chest as I take a step away from the table. “She’s not yours. She can do what she wants. Plus, we have a tournament to finish.”
Fuck. I didn’t even think about the tournament.
And Brock is right; she’s not mine. If she wants to screw someone else, she can. But I made it where she couldn’t at Almadale because if I couldn’t have her, no one else could. I didn’t think I would have to contend with Heywood though.
Fuckin’ Connor Stanson.
I blame Bodhi for this. His obsession with his girl drove him to invite those pricks.
I war with myself, going back and forth on what I’m going to do, but I know every moment I stand here is a moment that I’m not down there.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Sorry, man,” I mutter as I brush by, cringing as Brock yells after me. I look over my shoulder and yell back, “Put Bodhi in my place.”
Bodhi can’t play beer pong for shit, but I don’t care right now. I have more important things to contend with than a tournament. I take the stairs two at a time as I run a hand through my hair. I bump into a few people, pushing as I make my way through the crowd.
Why did we invite all these people again?
Once I finally get to the floor where the rooms are, I slow down, steadying my breathing. I can’t look out of breath when I interrupt this little twosome. At least, I hope it’s a twosome. And nothing more.
Standing outside the door to the blue room, I pause. Anger thrumming through my veins at myself, Landry, and Connor. I don’t know who I’m angriest with. I raise my hand to knock but think better of it. Rattling the door, I see the little shits locked it, and I kick it out of frustration.
“Open the fucking door, Landry,” I yell.
I raise a fist to pound the door, but it’s whipped open, and I lurch forward, off-balance.
“What the hell?” Connor is standing there, shirt off.
I see red and lunge toward him, fist raised but he ducks it.
What has gotten into me?
I’ve never fought over a girl before.
“Dude. Corbin, what’s going on?” Connor asks while trying to avoid my body running over him.
I can’t seem to stop myself, and I swipe a leg out, hooking his and taking him to the ground. I rear back again, about to land a punch straight to his face when Landry’s angry voice cuts through the fog.