AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I ignore that bit and just say, "My friend. Josh Miller?" My voice is raspy from how nervous I am.
The one in back nods. "Yeah. Miller's one of our new guys. He should be around here. You guys know each other from high school or something?"
I nod. "Same town."
Two of the guys nod, but the one in front frowns. "I know,” I explain. “My press stuff says Virginia, but I lived down in Fairplay for a year with my dad."
"I saw those sick reels, bruh. Fairplay Tigers," the tall one in back drawls.
I nod.
"This dude's modest," one of them laughs.
For a second, all three of them talk about how I seem like a normal guy. They ask if I'm drinking.
"Not tonight."
"I thought y'all all ride back together after games,” the middle one says.
I explain that we usually do.
"Well, shiiiit," one of them drawls.
"You sure you don't wanna tap one of those kegs? We got a bunch of stuff."
"Yeah, thanks. Maybe later."
"Bruh, Miller's in there.” The middle guy tips his head back. “I just saw him out there underneath the back porch."
I can't breathe as I step slowly into the house. The front door leads into a massive living room with a two-story stone fireplace. There's a flatscreen taking up the lion’s share of one wall, set to ESPN. I see myself on the field, and it’s surreal.
I glance up, noticing a railing; this room is two stories tall, and I guess the guys' rooms are upstairs. Does Miller live here?
I put my head back down, following a long-ass rug down a narrow hall, passing rooms I don't look up to see, and passing people. Lots and lots of drunk, War Eagle people.
The hall leads to a massive kitchen—which is really more a mess hall. I start feeling like I can't breathe, so I stop for just a second, fixing my eyes on a long table...counting the chairs.
What if he gets mad that I'm here?
I guess, to him, I'm someone he knows well. Someone who evidently just fucking left him. To me, Josh Miller is almost a celebrity. Someone I've fixated on for months, but I don't know him. Tears again. I rub my aching forehead. It's starting to throb from that hit to my back.
Deep breaths.
I can see the deck through a few big-ass windows. Guess the music's out there, because the floorboards under my feet trembles with the beat.
How do I find him? What's he wearing?
I breathe deeply and then move onto the crowded deck. Holy hell, it's packed. People trying to dance, but they can't because it's too crowded. Lots of little red Solo cups. Little shrieks and low male laughter.
I step out and just freeze. Then I spot a railing at the deck's edge and walk toward it. I have to push my way through the crowd, but it's okay. Once I'm there, I'll look for Miller. His dark hair, his little tired, nighttime smiles.
I stand there sweating from anxiety for what feels like an hour. If he's out here, I can't see him. As soon as I have that thought, someone yells, "Miller!"
I look over the railing to the grassy lawn below. There's maybe a hundred people down there. I push back through the crowd and go down the stairs, my legs weak and shaky from the strain of the game.
I stop at the bottom, stand under the deck and listen. I don't hear him. I don't see him. Some girl catches my eye, and I step over to her, asking her if she's seen him. She’s never heard of him.
I start around the house to the front, not wanting to cross that fucking deck again. I force myself to slow walk up the side lawn’s grassy incline.
It's okay. If I can’t find him tonight, I’ll keep trying.
I'm at the front door again, stepping up over the threshold again. This time, the living room's more crowded. Someone's standing upstairs at the wrought iron railing, hurling a football down. I head to the kitchen, which is also more crowded now; as soon as I stop in the doorway, some dude’s eyes pop open wider, and I duck my head.
There's a dark hallway off the left side of the kitchen, so I go that way just to get away from everybody. There are a few doors slightly open, showing sliver views of frat boy bedrooms. I pass four and then the hall turns at a ninety-degree angle, and there's an open space with a staircase at the other end. I hear murmured voices, and my throat goes tight and aching.
I don't know how I know, because I can barely hear them, but my body flushes and I feel lightheaded as I walk toward the staircase. When I get to the bottom, I look up, and everything is in slow motion. Josh is standing near the top, facing sideways, his back pressed against the wall. There's a guy in front of him—a husky guy whose hair and face are hidden by a cap. At first I think the guy is trying to strangle Miller.
