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Pine-scented air filled my lungs, and a familiar shiver ran over my skin. The screen door snicked closed. I didn’t move as Parker levered himself down next to me, propping his arm on one upraised knee.
“I didn’t know you were the partying type,” he said.
On some level, I’d known he was in the house, but I hadn’t expected him to seek me out. “I’m not. Parties tend to suck when you’re the sober one.”
“You don’t drink?”
I shook my head, keeping my eyes on the stars.
“At all?”
I sighed. Always the same reaction, disbelief followed by the snap decision that I must be a prude or a bitch. I’d had plenty of practice ignoring the haters, but Parker’s undertone of shock brought my eyes crashing down to his.
“It’s not worth the potential problems. I have to work twice as hard for twice as long to get half as much recognition that you and your boys get.One stupid decision could ruin that, and I don’t make smart decisions when I’m drunk. Plus, I hate the taste of beer. Warm, shitty beer? No thanks.”
The corner of his lips tipped up. “You’re not wrong, especially about this beer.” He wiggled his cup at me then set it on the stone next to him. “Why football?”
The question surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. Parker had been putting a significant effort into getting me to talk. His persistence the last couple of weeks paid off because I didn’t immediately get up and leave.
I didn’t like to talk about my dad, who’d shared his love of football with me. He’d played professionally, and the sport never left his blood. I kept his name to myself because people tended to overreact. I didn’t want to be known as Jed Jones’ daughter—I wanted to be RJ.
Especially to Parker. My time with him in class was mostly spent telling horrible dad jokes, but we’d built a sort of friendship that made me want to open up a little bit. Trust had to come from both sides. Practice today proved my point, but I got the feeling Parker didn’t want to talk about his outburst.
Probably a good short-term plan since I was still salty about the whole thing. He was shrewd, both on and off the field.I brushed my hands on my jeans, and he watched me, waiting for an answer I wasn’t sure I would give.
To buy myself time, I deflected. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Parker inclined his head once. “You could, and I’ll answer whatever you want to know, but I asked first.”
Maybe I could share a generic version of my past. “My dad was really into football, so I grew up immersed in it. He started me playing, but I love the game.”
His brows drew together. “Was?”
“Yeah, he died during my senior year of high school.”
This was the part where people usually pushed, but Parker nodded and changed the subject.
“What are you doing here if you’re not into partying?”
“Eva convinced me to come then got distracted by the beer pong table. She gave me a list of rules to follow in her absence.”
He laughed. “Like what?”
“Like don’t take open drinks from random guys, but I haven’t been given any.”
“Here.” He offered his cup to me, and I raised a brow.
“You seem to have completely missed my last comment.”
Parker looked out toward the trees as a smile crept across his face. “I heard you. Normally I’d agree with you one hundred percent, but I’m not some random guy you met at the party.”
“That’s what they all say.” My joke fell flat, even to my own ears.
He shook his head. “We have to learn to trust each other some time.”
I grunted at the echo of my earlier thoughts. Normally, I’d politely decline, no matter how many times he told me terrible jokes in class, but this was Parker. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to go around messing with a girl’s drink, and he definitely wouldn’t fuck with a teammate.
With a grimace, I took his proffered cup and stared down at the clear liquid. Not beer, thank god. Probably vodka, though I hadn’t pegged him as the hard liquor type. A shrieky laugh from the house reminded me we weren’t alone. The backyard felt like a bubble of solitude, but on the very off chance Parker was the secret villain of this story, I could be inside within seconds.
