Eighteen
Reece
“I’m telling you, dude. Vegas is the only way to go,” Brayden says on the other line.
I knock my head against the door jamb of my bedroom as I listen to Brayden’s absurd wishes for my brother’s bachelor party. He claims as “second in command,” we should be planning the event together. So far, he’s not been keen on staying local or having the girls with us.
“Listen, man. I’m just trying respect Evan’s wishes. If he wants the girls to be there, the girls should be there,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers.
I’m waiting for Drew to finish showering so we can head to the football party. Miles went over with some other hockey guys not too long ago, and I think Stacy and Mae got there with Jamie and Christina right before.
At least, according to Jamie.
Stacy ended up excusing herself from our post-game coffee run and has been pretty MIA since then. I’ve chalked it up to exhaustion from the game, maybe nerves about a night out, but I can’t pretend I’m not anxious to see her at the party. To make sure everything’s all good with her, with us .
She kind of crawled up inside of herself after Chelsea drunkenly told the crew that we’re casually hooking up.
It was like a flip switched and she went from being the slightly happy Stacy I get sometimes back to cold, stoic Stacy.
I refuse to think for even a second that Stacy’s jealous of Chelsea because that would mean she cares about me on a little bit of a deeper level than she’s letting on.
Needless to say, I’m antsy as hell to get to that party and see my girl.
No, no .
My fake girl. My stunt buddy.
If Drew would just hurry the hell up.
Until he moves his ass, I get the pleasure of being ambushed on the phone by my brother’s best friend about a party I have no fucking interest in planning in the first place.
“The girls will be such a buzzkill,” Brayden protests. “Trust me, Evan wants a guys weekend. I know Evan better than anyone.”
My eyebrows knit together. “I’m his brother.”
Brayden scoffs. “Yeah, but you two have the whole Tashia thing and…” He trails off and I can almost picture him waving a hand at me dismissively.
I stifle a sigh. “What about Nashville? Way closer, we can go for a weekend and the girls can come with.”
Brayden considers this. “But you know what’s legal in Nevada that isn’t legal in Tennessee?”
My phone beeps with an incoming call from Miles before Brayden can make an obtuse comment about prostitution.
Thank god .
“Hey, I’ve got another call so we’ll put a pin in it, yeah?” I tell Brayden .
He huffs but says goodbye as I accept the call from my best friend. “Miles, dude, you just saved my life.”
“Uh, where the hell are you?” he asks by way of greeting, the loud base and shrieks of a party in the background.
I put the phone between my shoulder and ear as I take a seat on my bed to pull on some shoes. “Waiting on Drew. We’ll head over as soon as he’s—”
“You might want to get over here now,” he cuts me off.
My stomach sinks as my hands freeze on my shoe laces. “Why? What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?” I demand, my mind flicking to Stacy.
“No, no, everyone’s fine but, uh…” Miles pauses as some drunk chatter passes by him in the background, “if you want to keep up this whole dating Stacy facade, you need to come get your girl. Your fake girl? Whatever.”
My sinking stomach plummets to the floor as heat creeps up into my face. What the hell does that mean? What the hell is Stacy doing and why is it bothering me so much already?
My completely unsolicited jealousy is playing tug of war with my worry as another thought slams into me — Lily. Of course Lily’s at the football party, she’s dating Troy Holmes for crying out loud! Stacy and I have got to play the part of a loving couple, especially with Lily around, or she might…
“I’ll be there in ten,” I tell Miles before hanging up.
I trot next door to Drew’s apartment, banging on the door until he answers with a towel wrapped around his waist and a befuddled expression. I give him a three second recap and he reacts quickly enough, throwing on some jeans and a sweater before heading with me to the off-campus football house.
The party house is the home of four of our first string players.
It’s a mystery how the boys managed to get out of the university-provided student athlete housing, similar to the guys who rent the hockey house, but the rumor mill says it has something to do with the generous donations that the parents of our running back frequently make to Wing Haven’s athletic program.
Either way, the seniors have had the off-campus house for three years now and it’s been a beacon of blacking out and getting wild after football games ever since.
Luckily, the house is a short distance from our apartment complex, an easy enough path to maneuver both drunk and sober. Within a few minutes of walking, the old ranch style house comes into view.
The base from the music is vibrating the soles of my shoes before we even hit the driveway and I see ample college students spilling out of the house.
Some are making out on the front porch, some are giggling and smoking around the side of the brick house, and I even see one guy passed out in the front lawn.
Little early for a blackout but who am I to judge?
I bust in through the front door like I have a warrant, my heart in my throat as my eyes adjust. The front room’s dim and packed wall to wall with sweaty, drunk college students.
A loud, new hip hop song is vibrating my whole body as the smell of stale beer and a million different colognes and perfumes tickle my nose.
Usually, the scene is fun. Usually, I’m hopping right into the middle of the chaos with a beer of my own, ready to dance and be a drunk idiot along with my peers.
But I can’t see Stacy in the sea of people and I feel nothing but panic.
“Where the fuck is Miles? Where’s Stacy?” I yell to Drew over the music as if he has any idea.
He shrugs, surveying the room with a beer already in his hand.
When the hell did he get that?
I keep scanning, my palms starting to sweat as dread sets in. I see Lily in the corner, hanging onto Troy. She’s swaying, a little drunk already by the looks of it, but she catches my eye and gives me a smirk.
Oh, god. Shit, she’s coming over here and I don’t have my girlfriend on my arm. I don’t even know where my girlfriend is .
“Stacy!” I call, breaking eye contact with Lily and moving through the dining room and into the kitchen area.
It’s just as packed in here, but luckily there’s less dancing going on so it’s a little easier to navigate the crowd. I spot Jamie chatting with a boy by the kitchen island, red solo cups in hand, and I sprint over to him. Jamie was here with Stacy, right?
“Where’s Stacy?” I demand without a preamble.
Jamie glances over at me, smiling. “Oh, hey man! This is Michael.” He gestures with his cup to the tall blonde to his left who he’s inevitably going home with later tonight, beer covering his breath.
I give Michael a curt nod. “Nice to meet you. Where’s Stacy?” I ask again.
Jamie shrugs. “Not sure. We kind of split up after we got here.”
I take a steadying breath and close my eyes.
Don’t kill Jamie. Don’t kill Jamie.
“Have you seen Miles?” I try. “Or Mae?”
Jamie’s glassy eyes look thoughtful as he considers my question. He stumbles forward slightly even though nobody touched him.
Jesus Christ, is anyone sober?
“You know what? I think they actually disappeared around the same time right before you got here,” he finally tells me.
I quirk a brow but don’t have time to wonder about Mae and Miles. Glancing backwards, I see Lily dragging Troy by the collar towards the kitchen and my stomach twists. Panic strangles me as I feel like I’m being stalked by a serial killer.
And I’ve got to get to Stacy if I want to get out of this alive.
“Thanks, buddy,” I say, turning back to Jamie and giving him a pat on the chest before sprinting into the living room off of the kitchen.
I let my eyes survey the crowd, thick again and full of dancing college students.
My gaze catches a familiar face as I see Christina grinding against our tight end, relief flooding through my body because I know Christina came with Stacy.
I take a step forward, breaking through the crowd a bit, just to see the face of the girl I’ve been looking for.
The face that makes my heart stutter before kicking into overdrive.
Stacy looks fucking gorgeous. She’s dressed in tight, black jeans that are liable to bring me to my knees, white sneakers, and the tiniest silver crop top.
It’s sparkly, covered in rhinestones it seems, and it keeps catching the reflection of the party lights, making her look like a mirrorball.
She’s lighting up the room, quite literally, her blonde waves wild and bouncing around her face.
She’s done up her makeup, something that’s clear even from afar, with pink cheeks and glossy lips, lashes that go for days.
She’s beautiful.
I could stare at her all night long .
Except I don’t stare for long because something green and hot twists in my gut as I see that she’s dancing on the Sharks quarterback.