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She’s getting more confident, and I like that.
Maybe a little too much.
“I’m fine with Harriet,” I add seriously.
I don’t know who I’m trying to convince more. I swear I see her tense up, but between my attempts to avoid looking down her neck and my need to get back to stimulating verbal jousting with my buddy, I don’t pay much attention to the way her body seems to have reacted.
I got Scar back, that’s all that matters.
19
Nolan
Harriet presses her body against mine, slipping her cold fingers under my black T-shirt while whispering against my ear. I let myself go, intoxicated by the moment. The party started more than two hours ago, and I notice a little late that there are three times more people than usual. It’s getting harder and harder to walk around the kitchen—which is already not very big—and the living room is starting to look like the floor of a crowded nightclub on a Saturday night. It’s Friday, game day, a blowout win against the Providence Friars and the whole college has gathered in our fourteen hundred square feet to celebrate the Terriers.
A perfect start to the weekend.
Except for the unpleasant feeling that I get in my stomach every time I see Scarlett. Her bright smile when her eyes meet mine, her laugh that I sometimes hear bursting when I pass by her group of friends, her perfume that invades my senses as soon as she brushes against me to get something to drink. Her ass molded in a short jumpsuit and the valley of her breasts that taunts me as soon as she leans down a little too far.
Anyway. I don’t know how long I’ve been stumbling over so many details. When she walks into the kitchen, while Harriet nibbles my neck while trying to get me to finish the evening in a bedroom, I get a whole bunch of undefinable stuff in my face.
I’m on my third drink though.
In other words, I’m not drunk.
Damn, did those jumpsuits fit her just as well last year?
I take a sip of beer from my cup and tighten my grip on Harriet’s hip, ignoring the sideways glance Scarlett gives me.
“Nolan, do you play?”
Leo calls out to me from the dining table in the corner of thekitchen, and my eyes glide by themselves to the silhouette next to him before I look away altogether.
Shit.
Something’s wrong with me.
“I don’t see why you’re still asking the question,” I joke.
A good dose of tequila and my friends, soon my eveningwill beperfect.
Just stop all that boob bullshit.
I gently push Harriet away, letting her take my hand as I take the few steps that separate us from the group.
“Are we not going to be a little too much?” asks a thin voice.
I discreetly scan at Scar’s best friend, run a quick hand through my hair, and tighten my grip on my girlfriend even more.
“I’m not playing,” Harriet exclaims. “There will only be seven of you.”
“Six, I pass my turn too,” Carol says.
“Come on, Carol,” Scarlett blurts out. “It will be funny!”
“I have to drive home.”
I hear Scarlett sigh, and I imagine her sulking like she does every time something upsets her. I wrap a possessive arm around my girlfriend’s shoulders while kissing the top of her head. When I look up at the table as it begins to settle, I see hazel eyes staring at me.
