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“This was fun, Red. Have a good night.” I slur the words as I stumble back towards the open door, and see Ash waiting there. Fucking sly arsehole probably watched the whole thing.
"Enjoy the show?" I smirk, nudging him out of the way. "Please tell me you didn’t whack off to me boning some random chick."
Red huffs behind me and pushes past. I shrug as Asher laughs.
“Thanks again, Red," I call out after her. "Order yourself a drink and put it on my tab. Hell, order one for your friend too. Maybe it will loosen her up. Send her my way if she wants to ride the T Train.”
"The T Train?" Asher guffaws.
"The Tanner Train, but the offer wasn’t extended to you," I grin, slapping him on the back.
We walk back inside and Ash buys the next round of drinks. I should be getting home, but I’m past thinking straight and that’s never a good sign. Especially when Ash is around. As great as he is, together we’re trouble, even more so when you throw alcohol into the mix.
After the next round I try and leave, but the guys convince me to stay for a bit longer. I give in, because you’re only young once, and after the week I’ve had, I deserve to let off a little steam.
Besides, I’ve already been traded to Crystal Hill. How much worse can things get?
Chapter Five
Jake
It’s late when I drag myself out of bed the next morning. Erin grins at me as I pull the carton of milk from the fridge and gulp it down. I glower at her, trying to ignore the pounding in my head. Why the fuck is my sister in my apartment anyway? It takes me a good few seconds to realize I'm at my mother’s house instead of my own place.
What. The. Fuck?
“Big night?” Erin asks, her voice light. Her green eyes sparkle as she twists her long blonde hair back into a ponytail, securing it with a fastener.
“None of your business,” I mutter, my anger increasing with her laughter. “Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”
“It’s Sunday, I’m eighteen, and I work full-time, you twit. Remember? Not that you’d know what work is.” She pokes her tongue out at me and retreats back to her bedroom. Regardless of our bickering, we’re pretty close. To be honest, my sister is one of my closest friends. That sounds kind of sad, right?
"Oh, you should probably see this, dumpster boy."
Erin walks back toward me and tosses me her iPad.
Dumpster boy? I pick it up, no idea what she's talking about. Oh shit. There I am, passed out naked in a dumpster that I can only assume is outside the club I was at last night. Full-frontal nudity, everything on display. Impressive, even if I do say so myself. A tiny smirk creeps onto my lips. At least this won’t hurt my chances of scoring women—not that I need any help in that department. That's me, always trying to see the positives in every situation.
"Really, Jake? You're laughing about this? Mum is going to kill you, not to mention your manager." Her hands on her hips, she stares at me. "Did you even read it?"
There are words? I draw my attention away from the photo and read.
Another fine example of the sporting heroes that are supposed to be leading our youth.
Though you can hardly call Jake Tanner a role model, a little decency would go a long way. Here you can see the young star is completely unaware he is in public and without his clothes.
I slide the iPad across on the carpet and lie back on the sofa. My head fucking kills and Erin’s nagging isn’t helping. What’s worse, I know her reaction is nothing compared to the shit my mother is going to give me.
“Erin, do me a favor?” Looking up at her with my best attempt at puppy eyes, I hope to appeal to her sympathetic side, but I’m met with nothing but laughter.
“You think I can get you out of this with Mum, don’t you?” Her grin is from ear to ear and it makes her eyes sparkle.
“You know she’s shit with technology. It’s not like it’s gonna be hard keeping her away from it. Tell her the internet is broken or something.”
“Keep me away from what?” Mum asks. I jump as she walks into the room, joining us over at the couch. I wince. Why the fuck is she shouting like I’m on the other side of the goddammed street? Forcing myself to sit up, I turn to face her, wondering if my helpless expression will work on her. She raises her eyebrows and I smile in spite of myself. Yeah, no chance.
“Oh just some stupid article, trashing me as always,” responding as normally as I can without letting her realize how hungover I am.
She picks up the iPad and I spring up from the couch. That’s my cue to leave—the last thing I want with this hangover is to be yelled at by my mum.
