Page 22 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

I clench my teeth so hard that the pain spikes at the top of my skull.

When I’m steady enough to head back outside, I run into Lucas on the back porch. His brows cinch in. “You good?”

“Not really.” I run a hand through my hair. Dried sweat grits against my fingers. “I have to head out. I put Doug’s keys in the drawer with the dish towels. Can you make sure he and everyone else are good before they head out? Or force them to sleep in the basement or something?” My voice is strained, and my eyes can’t focus on any one thing for too long. If I don’t get out of here now, I’m going to hyperventilate.

“Yeah, of course, man. Thanks for keeping Doug safe.”

I grab my own keys out of my jeans pocket and call over my shoulder, “It’s a really great party, Lucas. Tell everyone bye for me.”

Rounding the side of the house, goosebumps prickle my neck.

Someone slams into me, as if they weren’t watching where they were going. Clearly, I wasn’t either.

“Oof!” she says. “I am so sorry. Rhoads?”

I steady her shoulders as my heart crescendos toward full-on fortississimo. “You okay, Baker?”

“Yeah, you?”

What a loaded question. “Yeah.”

“Are you lost? You know the bonfire’s the other direction, right?” She smirks at me as if we’re about to banter. And on any other night, in any other moment, I would relish that challenge. But right now, I just can’t.

A few hours ago, I had been riding the high of our deal.

“Wait. You’re not leaving, are you? I just got here.” Her voice sounds disappointed, but I reluctantly nod.

“Something came up. I gotta go.” My keys poke into my palm. The sensation grounds me in the moment.

“Could you stay for just a few more⁠—”

“I’ll see you at school on Monday,” I say, cutting her off and heading to my truck without glancing back. Her gaze prickles the back of my neck, but I don’t dare turn around. Having her watch me have a breakdown isn’t going to win me any Potential Boyfriend points.

In my truck, I squeeze the steering wheel, breathe in the Tropical Breeze air freshener, and count to ten. It’s too stuffy, so I start the engine and roll down the window.

I wasn’t just protecting Doug, I reply to Lucas in my head. But anybody who might have gotten in his path.

Eight

CHLOE

The tang of salted butter fills the air in Anita’s kitchen. Increasingly loud and impatient pops punctuate the low hum of the microwave. I spin slowly on the barstool, my palms down on the white stone countertop. “I already told you. Like ten times.”

The microwave beeps, and Charlotte retrieves the steaming popcorn bag. “Tell us again. Exactly what he said and how he said it.”

“And how he looked. His body language. That’s crucial,” Anita adds, sliding a large yellow ceramic bowl toward Charlotte.

“I don’t know, guys. We’re just going to help each other. For the sake of soccer. And breakfast, I guess.” I get up, open the fridge, and set three cans of chilled soda on the counter. At Anita’s glare, I put one can back and fill a cup with water instead. “Okay, Annie, I’m hydrating.”

“You’re the one always bemoaning your leg spasms. And you’re the one who told me to keep you accountable. So, don’t get mad at me for doing what you asked.”

I laugh. “I know, I know. Thanks for keeping me honest.”

Anita’s soda can hisses as she pops the tab.

Charlotte pours the popcorn into the bowl and tosses a piece into her mouth. “Well, it sounds like a date to me.”

“Training is not a date,” I say, eager to finish this topic.