Chapter 10
Conin
Dan and the football gang drag me far away from Ezra. I was trying to intercept him to the keg when Dan pulled me outside. He led me to the beer pong table where the other guys from the team were already mid-game.
“I know he’s your friend, Conin, but why the hell would you bring him here?” he says sloppily. His voice slurs with inebriation.
“Ezra?” I ask, though it’s clear who he speaks of.
“He follows you around like a stray puppy just to get inside your pants. He’s a fag, Conin.”
“What did you say?”
“He’s a faggot. Why the fuck do you keep him around?”
The irresistible urge to sock Dan in the face is impossible to overcome. No one insults Ezra in front of me and gets away with it. Melissa will understand if I knock her boyfriend out.
“You know what, Dan?” I say and he turns to me, but he’s no longer there. I’ve lost him to the recesses of his mind. “I quit the team.”
“You . . . w-what?”
“I quit the team,” I hiss, enunciating each syllable. “If you’re captain, I want no part of it.”
Well, that’s not the only reason.
The boys boo. They’ve started listening and I ignore them.
“And we’re breaking up,” says Melissa defiantly. “Asshole.”
I have no idea where she materialized from, but I’ll use the excuse to escape Dan any time. She takes hold of my wrist and starts to tug me away from my former football team and her now ex-boyfriend. God, I love this woman.
“Babe . . . what? Where are you going? Where did this come from—”
“Swallow it, Papenbrook. We’re over.”
We don’t stick around to hear the rest of his drunken tirade, knowing none of it will be good.
Melissa leads me inside the house. We’re swallowed by flashing lights, deafening music, and a multiplying crowd.
I twist myself to take in her reaction. From what I can gauge, she’s apathetic, but I know her better.
Relief loosens the tension in her eyebrows and cheeks. Her lip curves into a subtle smile.
“Jesus. That felt good,” Melissa says for only me to hear.
“You were badass,” I say.
“Damn right, I was.”
The crowd thickens and suddenly there’s no leeway to move.
The room throbs and pulses, students jump and sway, push and pull.
I feel an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia and a ceaseless worry for Ezra.
I haven’t seen him since he disappeared to the keg.
I shouldn’t have followed Dan. That was mistake number two.
My first mistake was coming here in the first place and dragging Ezra along with me.
I wanted to deny it, but I knew—I knew shit would happen. And I’m responsible for it.
Melissa bumps into someone I can’t see. I hear her attempt to apologize, but whoever it is is not having it. They’re belligerent. Their words slur.
“Hey—” I protest, ready to make them back off.
I recognize his voice.
Thax rudely gestures at Melissa, shoving an indignant finger at the base of her sternum.
I slap his hand away the second my own is free from the sea of people.
The look he casts me is callous and hostile, but he grins when he realizes who I am.
It’s unsettling. All I want to do is pummel his face into the ground.
Thax takes that same index finger and thrusts it into my bubble. I notice the prominent black eye.
“You can’t protect him anymore,” he slurs, maintaining that dreadful curve of his mouth.
He’s upset and I can only imagine why. But fuck will I tolerate him threatening Ezra. I will not let him carve one more single line into Ezra’s skin. I don’t know whether Thax is high or extremely intoxicated. Either way, I have a strong sense this interaction won’t end well.
“Ezra’s actions have consequences,” Thax continues, his gaze held on me.
“Whatever the fuck he did to my dad, he needs to fix it.” Thax got in trouble.
Lukeman didn’t have an outlet, so he chose his older son instead.
How utterly useless does Rochelle need to be to let this continue to happen?
I shouldn’t sympathize with Thax, of all people, and I understand that their mother must be scared, but this treatment is blatantly unfair and cruel.
“I made a deal,” he spits.
Melissa backs into me. She says nothing, waiting for me to react first before she intervenes. She’s letting me handle this on my own terms.
“I’m sick of his bullshit. I’m so sick that he has the power to leave, to get far away from here, but he never does. He always fucking stays! He’s useless! Imagine what I could do with that kind of power.” Thax pauses, thinks. “Nah. Ezra’s going to be dealt with.”
What the hell is he talking about? Power? What power?
“All right, this is enough,” Melissa says sternly. “Let’s go, Conin.”
She tries to pull me away, but I stand still, firm and unwavering. I wring my wrist from her grip and get close to Thax. We’re face to face, nose to nose. He’s unstable on his feet as he leans with the sway of the partying students. He trains his look on me regardless.
“What do you mean? What did you do?” I ask.
“Where is he, Thomas?” I spit.
He hates that name. Thax’s eyes narrow into slits.
And in one swift, blundering movement, he shoves me with a freakishly strong force.
It is taking every fiber of my being not to explode on him.
I try to suppress the urge to rip his throat out while students take an interest in the unfolding fight.
Not knowing where Ezra is has spiked the worry that’s been churning in my stomach since I was driven away from him.
I need to know where he is. I need to know now.
I need to know before I break and someone ends up hurt, or worse.
A hand finds my shoulder. At first, I think it’s Melissa abating the situation, but a much deeper voice emanates from the stranger.
Tommy Donahue. He pulls me aside and I let him.
Melissa waits on the sidelines. Thax is now nowhere to be seen.
The crowd of people return to their partying as if nothing threatened to ruin their fun tonight.
Tommy leans in close. His breath is warm.
“Have you seen Ezra?” he whispers.