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“That scholarship would mean I don’t have to worry about where I’m going to live or how I’ll pay for college. Yeah. Like a golden fucking ticket out from under my parents, once and for all.”
I thought about what he’d said, then my eyes went to the fresh beer he was pulling out the fridge. Maybe my gaze lingered there just a few seconds too long. His face hardened.
I tried to think of something to say to break the tension, but nothing came to mind. I just awkwardly pressed my lips together in a fake smile.
“I should probably get you back home before your mom gets in.”
He hadn’t seemed like he was in the slightest hurry to send me home until now, but I nodded and let him walk me out. I felt a little part of myself retreat in that moment. Last night, it seemed like I’d wrapped my heart in a nice, careful little package and handed it to him. Now, I wondered if I’d really known what I was doing.28TristanKennedy met me at a place on the main strip of town called Dead Ringers. It was a diner with pretty good hamburgers and shakes, even though the fries were those shitty, noodle-thin types. A lot of guys from the team went there after practice and games, which meant a lot of the hot girls from our school hung out there, too.
Most days, you could find a small gathering of a dozen or so kids in the parking lot, leaning on cars and talking around greasy paper bags full of food.
Today, it was hot enough that most of the action was inside. The bar area was crowded with young kids sipping on milkshakes and the booths were all packed.
Kennedy sat across from me, sipping on a strawberry milkshake. My eyes were on her lips, making my memory burn with the taste of them—their sweet softness.
“What?”
I titled my head, not making any attempt to keep my voice low. “Just thinking how much I enjoyed fucking you.”
“Tristan,” she said, bulging her eyes and dipping her head, like she expected a stray bullet to come flying over the top of our booth.
“You’re my girlfriend. You think people don’t realize we’re fucking?”
“We had sex. Once. It’s different.”
“You’re right. You busy this afternoon?”
She threw the balled-up wrapper of her straw at me, missing so badly that it sailed over my head. “Would it kill you to act like a gentleman, for once?”
“I made sure you came first. If that’s not acting like a gentleman, I don’t know what is.”
She winced again. “Could you just—not announce it to the world, maybe?”
“In the world of bargaining, this is what’s called leverage. I have something you want. That means I can bargain for something in exchange.”
“Tristan.” Kennedy’s voice was quiet and laced with warning, but I wasn’t backing down.
“Lift up your foot and put it on the bench.”
“What?”
“Do it. Lift your leg up.”
She worked her lips to the side, studying me. Finally, I saw her body shift a little. I reached blindly under the table and found the soft skin of her calf. I bit my lip, tugging her a little closer. Then I slid her sandal off, so her foot was bare before I set it between my legs.
Kennedy tried to yank her leg back, but I held her there firmly. “Your choice,” I said. “But I need some part of you on my dick or I’m not going to be able to stop talking about it. Loudly,” I added.
She cupped her hands over her eyes, ducking her head even more. “What if someone sees?”
“They’ll think one of us has some kind of weird foot fetish.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you?”
“I have a you-touching-my-dick fetish.”
Eventually, she managed to convince me she needed to use the bathroom. I was fairly sure it was just an excuse to escape, but I allowed it. Once she was gone, I pulled out a small flask from my jacket and added a generous dose of whiskey to my chocolate milkshake. I swirled it around, sipping. I felt a small wave of relief at the bite of the alcohol, knowing it’d start to help soften my thoughts.
When I wasn’t directly in contact with Kennedy, my mind had been going to dark places ever since dad’s realtor showed up. I wasn’t sure I’d been entirely sober since, but it was either that, or I’d do something even more stupid, like burning the whole house down.
A group of guys stopped by the table while Kennedy was still gone.
“You’re the QB from Parker, right?” asked one of the guys. He was short and round, with mousy features.
“Yeah.”
The guy looked to his friends, backhanding them each on the shoulders and grinning, like they’d just stumbled upon some kind of golden opportunity. “Your coach know you’re day drinking the day before your game against us?”
