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Shit.
I reach for my earbuds, knowing I’ve already heard more than I should have.
“Get the fuck—”
Music fills my ears, cutting Nico’s words off.
It takes a few songs for my muscles to ease, and I close my eyes, letting the chilled September night’s air waft over my face.
Minutes later, my music stops.
I blindly reach for my phone, but when my hand finds an empty space, my eyes pop open.
I jump.
Nico stands tall, his shadow wide and looming, my phone locked tight in his grip.
He glares, jaw clenched, beads of sweat covering his forehead. “You record that?”
My brows jump. “No.” I point to my phone and he tears his gaze from mine, forcing them to the screen. “Just music. I plugged in as soon as—”
“As soon as what?” he snaps. “Soon as it got too heavy for your textbook world?”
I prepare to argue, but the longer I look at him, I decide against it.
He’s stressed. Tense.
Tired?
My eyes fall to his shirt – torn at the sleeve and stretched at the collar – before moving right back to his.
His face hardens and he cuts his glare to the fence.
“Wanna talk?” I ask when maybe I shouldn’t.
He scoffs, shaking his head, still not looking back at me. “I give you one ride home, so you don’t have to walk in the fucking dark, and suddenly you assume I want to talk to you.”
I eye him and his nostrils flare.
He said after his games he doesn’t like talking. Maybe it’s the same with all intense situations for him?
“Good, I’m glad you’re not up for it.” I lift a shoulder and his gaze slowly slides sideways, back to mine as I scoot over on the double lounger, then lay back, gazing up at the sky once again. “You’re an asshole, and I don’t want to talk to you, either.”
He stands there, the heat of his heavy stare burning into the side of my face for a minute or two before a heavy scoff leaves him.
Nico drops beside me.
We lay there in the dark, staring at the stars.
Not talking.Everything was chill, then the DJ had to go and put some fuckin’ hip-hop on as if watching her dance to the John Mayer bullshit he was playin’ before wasn’t bad enough.
This is torture, and I’m only two hours in.
I can’t deal with this shit a full weekend.
Demi arches her back, swaying her hips to the music while her friends take turns stepping closer, trying to keep up with her.
They can’t.
Swear the girl’s hips were meant to roll.
Her long, dark blonde hair is teasing the skin of her slightly exposed stomach, eyes closed and arms in the air. She’s lost in her own mind, but only for a few minutes before she opens them again.
For the tenth fucking time, her focus shifts to the asshole whose attention she’s after.
Too bad for D, though, lover boy’s not looking at her.
No, his eyes are glued on the girls playing beer pong, the ones who jump up and down in excitement, even when they miss. The ones who have yet to put their clothes back on when they’ve been out of the water for hours and the sun’s been gone just as long.
I glance to Demi.
Her shoulders fall half of an inch, defeat sneaking its way out of her, but she quickly wipes it away.
A scoff leaves me, and I shake my head when the small group of girls take several steps left, trying really fuckin’ hard to get in Alex’s line of sight. She thinks she’s being chill about it, but she doesn’t know I’m watching.
This shit’s embarrassing to witness.
The DJ announces the last song of the night and doing the opposite of what a closer normally would, the dick chooses to hit it harder, and a song more upbeat than the last comes on. Everyone cheers.
A sudden mischievous gleam covers Demi’s face, one that has me sitting forward in my seat.
This is bound to be bad.
She drops a little lower, bends a little further and moves spades fucking faster, to the point where her girls have no choice but to step back and sway around, admiring as she does her thing.
When even the DJ’s eyes fight for a sight of the blinding blonde in the middle, I push to my feet, and what do you fuckin’ know, Demi’s head snaps my way in the same second.
She falters slightly, her dance moves slowing a bit, body shifting in my direction, by accident I’d bet.
I head toward her in unhurried steps.
The closer I get, the more uneasy she grows, and by the time I’m directly in front of her, the girl has stopped moving completely.
“Hey,” she says hesitantly, her hand coming up to brush the hair from her face. “I didn’t know you were here.”
I lick my lips, pulling my bottom one between my teeth a moment. “’Course not, D. You’ve always had blurred vision.”
