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“You’re just jealous that I’m getting regular pussy, Carter.” Nix smirked at Kye.
“He has a point, man,” I added.
“Says you, Z.” Kye pinned me with a knowing look. “When was the last time you got your dick wet?”
“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” I grumbled, handing off the blunt to Nix and reaching for a beer.
“And why is that exactly?” Kye taunted. “Having a little trouble—”
“Cut it out,” Nix warned.
Kye backed off because that’s how our trio operated. He was the joker, always putting his foot in his mouth. Nix was our fearless leader. And me, I was the quiet observer. A silent tempest who hovered on the periphery. There were only a handful of people I trusted. Even less I cared about.
Some people called me cold, but I liked it that way. The less people you let in, the less people who could disappoint you.
“Is it me or does this not have the same appeal as previous years?” Kye scanned the party, his brows furrowed.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said, glancing at Nix.
He was busy texting on his phone. I didn’t need to ask to know who it was. He and Harleigh couldn’t stand to be apart from one another for more than a few hours. It was hardly a surprise given everything they’d been through, but damn, I missed my best friend. Missed the days when life was simpler, and girls didn’t enter the equation.
But we weren’t kids anymore. Nix was as good as living with Harleigh now and we hadn’t even graduated high school yet. Kye hooked up with a different girl every weekend, sometimes more than one. It wouldn’t take long before one of them tied him down and demanded something more. And then I’d be alone.
“What?” Nix said, shoving his cell back in his pocket.
“Let me guess, B?” Kye asked.
“Yeah. They’re heading to Strike One. We could always—”
“No,” I barked. “No fucking way.”
“Jesus, keep your hair on, Z.” Kye flashed me a shit-eating smirk. “What’s wrong with bowling? We had fun last time. Well, I did when I wiped the alley with your sorry ass.”
“I need another drink.” I got up.
“There’s a six-pack right there.” He tipped his head to the cooler at my feet.
“Need something stronger.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Nix called after me, but I was already gone, winding my way through the crowd.
A few people clapped me on the shoulder, congratulating me on a good game last night. The Darling Hill Hawks were on a winning streak and if we kept it up, the playoffs were right in our grasp. But unlike Nix and a handful of other guys on the team, football wasn’t my ticket out of here. I was good—I knew my way around a football field—but I wasn’t great.
Besides, even if a scholarship did come calling—and I wasn’t holding my breath—I could never leave Grams. Moving her out of The Row and into a care facility wasn’t an option.
So this was my hand. Senior year. One final season of football with the Hawks, and making as many memories with my friends as possible before graduation rolled around, and we all went our separate ways.
Shit, I needed that drink.
I was almost at the makeshift bar—really, the tailgate of someone’s busted up truck—when a cute blonde stepped into my path. “Hey, Zane.” She smiled up at me through her thick lashes.
“What’s up?” I said, letting my eyes drop down her body. She wasn’t my usual type. Too petite and small. Fragile. My hands looked like they would span her waist with ease. I liked a little more to hold onto.
“You played a good game yesterday.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m Freya. We have biology and history together.”
