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“Fuck yeah!” I yell. “I love winning!”
Marcus laughs at my antics as he heads toward his locker and starts to remove his pads. “You’re heading to Ben’s to celebrate, right?”
“You know it. It’s about to be on tonight.” I fling my locker open with so much force that it slaps open, then closes again.
“Can we not break the locker?” Ben asks sarcastically as he walks up. “Actually, on second thought, breakwhatever you need to break herebeforeyou get to my house.”
I laugh and begin to remove my pads, feeling so alive that I can hardly contain how juiced I am.
“Is everyone coming over?” I ask Ben.
He shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. “Sure sounds like it.” He pauses and stands up straight with his hands out to each side. “How come my house is always the place to go?”
I slap his shoulder as I walk by to head to the showers. “Because your parents don’t seem to give a shit.”
“Oh, they give a shit. Just not until the next day, when I have to clean everything up.”
“Exactly. Until then, we get to do whatever the fuck we want,” I shout over my shoulder.
After I shower, I throw on the clothes I brought with me, and then Marcus and I head toward my truck that’s parked near the field.
I laugh as Marcus has to hold the oh-shit bar just to be able to climb in, but it’s the perfect height for my tall ass.
Once I crank the engine, “Should’ve Been a Cowboy” by Toby Keith blares through the speakers in the back.
We head straight to Ben’s property, which is part country, part mansion. His house rivals those in Los Angeles, spanning ten thousand square feet. Everything around it screams country living with multiple firepits, a volleyball court, horse stalls, white lights strung throughout the property, and a huge barn that has officially become our place to hang out.
Every Sunday our small crew hangs out in the barn, but tonight it will be more like the entire school.
I put the truck in park. We hop out and head toward the closed barn doors, but there’s no hiding the party that’s already letting loose, judging by the bass that’s making the ground shake around us.
I slide the door open, yelling, “Let’s party!”
Everyone turns my way and screams with my same enthusiasm. I feel like a god, walking through the area as everyone slaps my hand and congratulates Marcus and me on the win tonight.
We make our way to the back room, which is set up with couches and multiple TVs for us to hang out in. The music quiets slightly with the walls that surround us, which is nice because we can actually hear each other talk—a stark difference from the rest of the barn.
I look to my favorite spot, where I like to sit and chill, and am pleasantly surprised to see Trish, who just happens to be sitting right there. Everyone knows that’s my spot, so seeing her there is like a neon-green sign flashing over her head, saying,Dalton, come fuck me tonight.
My night just keeps getting better and better.
I give her a wink, letting her know I noticed and know exactly what she wants, but before I head her way, I make my rounds through the crowd to say hello to everyone.
I head to Maya, who’s sitting on the couch with Ben on the floor, lying between her legs. These two I will never understand. If someone were to walk in here and see them, they would instantly think Maya and Ben were together by the way they act, but no. Ben swearsthere’s nothing going on between them and they’re just best friends, and Maya … well, Maya is the sweetest fucking girl I’ve ever met, so if she wants to put up with his friend bullshit, then who am I to question it?
Other kids from school surround the area, and I say what’s up to all of them as I make my way to my spot—or I should say, to Trish’s current takeover of my spot.
Eli is sitting in a chair, just taking it all in, like he normally does. At six-five, he’s a beast of a dude and as quiet as they come. Any girl who tries to actually date him doesn’t get far, as he seems bored with them almost right away. People don’t understand him, but I get it. He’s an old soul and over this high school bullshit.
When I get to Trish, I stand tall, cross my arms in front of me, and narrow my eyes at her in a serious but playful manner.
She tries to hide her grin as she says, “Oh, is this your spot?”
“You know damn well that’s my spot.”
She plays coquettishly with me. “Well … I’m not sure I’m willing to get up. Maybe you’ll just have to?—”
I don’t let her finish her sentence, and in point-two seconds, I swoop in, pick her up, and swing her around so she’s sitting on my lap. She lets out a yelp in surprise as I settle her in so she’s more comfortable.
