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“What’s the plan for the weekend? Away game, baby.” Kye rubbed his hands together. “You know what that means?”
“A long ass bus ride?”
He shook his head with a grin. “Fresh pussy.”
“One day, your dick will rot and fall off,” Nix said.
“Says the guy who’s settled for one pussy for the rest of his life.”
“Let’s not talk about B’s pussy.” Nix glowered. “Chloe and Harleigh are riding with Jessa. Something about a girls’ road trip.”
“Nice,” Kye said.
“Please tell me Celeste isn’t going.”
“Would it be a problem if she was?” Kye smirked. “Since you obviously don’t give a shit about her and all.”
“Fuck you.” I grabbed a half-empty water bottle and threw it at his head.
“You’re not fooling anyone, Z, man. You want her.”
“Like fuck I do. She’s one of the most stuck-up, annoying girls I’ve ever met.”
“Kye,” Nix warned. “Don’t bait him. It never ends well.”
“Worried he might corrupt your girl’s sister?”
Nix glanced at me and cast me a scathing look. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
“Trust me, I will never touch Celeste Rowe, even if she was the last girl on the fucking planet.”
Kye pinned me with an amused look, and I glowered, “What?”
“Famous last words, Z. Famous. Last. Words.”
Celeste
“So how did it go?”Mom asked as we ate breakfast. It was unusual for her to be home. Usually, she and Dad were long gone in the morning.
“It was fine,” I said, pushing eggs around my plate.
I just wasn’t hungry. And it had nothing to do with Mom’s question, or Claudia’s icy reception, and everything to do with Zane Washington.
He was the last person I’d expected to see at the center. And I still couldn’t figure out for the life of me what he was doing there.
Not that I’d asked Harleigh or Chloe. I couldn’t—they would have too many questions. Besides, I didn’t want to make trouble for him if they didn’t know.
“Really, Celeste, would it hurt to sound a little more enthusiastic? This is a great opportunity for—”
“You, Mom. It’s a great opportunity for you.”
“And what is that supposed to mean, young lady?” She glared at me, shock glittering in her eyes.
I rarely talked back to her. It wasn’t worth it. Sabrina Delacorte was a formidable woman, and although she was my mother, I’d been raised to respect my elders. Especially her.
“Nothing, it means nothing. I’m just tired and cranky. Mrs. Sinclair seemed really nice. But Claudia was—”
“You helped with her MS support group? I thought you’d be more interested in the brain injury group?”
