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When I get back to the house later that night, the driveway is full of cars and there’s a raging afterparty going on inside. I take my helmet off and walk through the open front door, stepping back when a blonde girl wearing a white bikini almost runs into me, squealing out a laugh as Easton chases her.
“Hey,” Easton calls to me, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?”
“All you do is mope around in your room. Go have some fucking fun for once.”
“I don’t mope.”
He shakes his head at me with a smile, tipping his chin toward the den. “There’s a girl in there who won’t stop asking about you.”
“What girl?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, burying his nose into the blonde girl’s neck. “She’s tight with Frankie. Brown hair, big mouth, no filter. Her name’s Tia or something like that.”
“Taylor,” I correct him, remembering the girl from the coffee shop the other day.
“Yeah, her,” he says, wiggling his brows. “Go get her, emo boy.”
My eyes widen slightly, and he laughs at the look on my face, guiding the girl he’s holding back toward the pool with his hands on her ass and his lips on her chest.
I chew the inside of my cheek and glance between the den and the kitchen, choosing the kitchen. Despite what Easton said about me having some fun, I don’t plan on staying down here long. These aren’t my friends, and this isn’t my scene anymore. I just want to see Nate, to know what he’s doing and where his head is at after the game.
I sidestep my way around a group of people standing by the island, recognizing a few of the boys from the team passing out tequila shots. I shake my head when they offer me one, grabbing myself a Coke from the fridge and twisting the cap off the top.
Nate’s not in here with them, but as I make my way across the hall, it doesn’t take me long to find him. He’s sitting in the corner of the den, a far-away look in his eyes as he lifts a glass of clear liquid up to his lips. He looks…sad. Tired. Lonely even though he’s surrounded by people. And it breaks my fucking heart.
I don’t move from the doorway, not wanting him or that Taylor girl to know I’m here, but of course it doesn’t work out that way. As if sensing my presence, Nate rolls his head on the back of the couch, watching me as he swallows his drink and pours himself another.
Always watching…
A gorgeous brunette girl—one of the cheerleaders, I think—leans over the back of the couch to say something to him, and he nods as he reaches back for her hand and guides her around, pulling her into his lap. My stupid heart sinks, and I break eye contact first, freezing up when two muscular arms come around me from behind.
“Did you have fun watching us tonight?” Carter asks, his breath tickling my ear. “I know you were there. You’re always there, aren’t you, Xav?”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Sure I don’t.”
I try to maneuver myself out of his grip, but he doesn’t let me get far, his fingers wrapping around my arm as he drags me out of the room. I stumble as he pulls me back toward the entryway, up the stairs and down the hall until we get to the bedrooms.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my stomach twisting with nerves.
Is he sending me to bed or taking me to bed?
Easton told me upstairs is off-limits when they throw parties, so there’s no one up here, but still. Anyone could wander up and see him with his hands all over me.
“Helping you,” he whispers, caging me in against the wall. “Just relax, baby boy. Trust me. This won’t take long.”
“Carter, stop.”
“That’s not what you said last time,” he teases, louder than before. “Remember how I made you come so good you cried? I can do it again if you want.”
Embarrassment courses through me as I remember the night he’s talking about. The night I almost offed myself on the edge of that cliff three months ago.
His hands grab my waist, and I’m about to fucking punch him, but I don’t get the chance before he’s being yanked away from me by the back of his head, his ass hitting the floor with a crash as his best friend punches him instead.
