Chapter 8
brANDON
The humid night air sinks into my skin, but the ache in my chest burns hotter.
I lean against the large maple behind the frat house, the windows pulsing with colored lights and thumping bass.
Like a masochist, I watch as Tatum sits in between Ethan’s legs in front of the bonfire, his fingers tracing little patterns on her bare legs.
For over two fucking hours, I’ve been keeping tabs on her, holding the same untouched, lukewarm beer just to maintain the illusion I’m here to socialize when really, I only came for her.
Because she asked me to.
Because she has my heart in a fucking vise that won’t let go.
“I don’t like the way he keeps plying her with booze,” I say when she tips the red plastic cup to her lips.
Jace follows my gaze. “I mean, he is her boyfriend, and this is a college frat party. He’s probably just making sure she’s having a good time. Getting shit-faced at these things is practically a prerequisite.”
“We’re not getting shit-faced,” I point out.
“Yeah, because we’re athletes who care about winning tomorrow and not getting our asses kicked by Coach for showing up hungover on gameday.”
I shake my head, because I’m barely listening. “She never drinks this much. Ever.”
“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,” Avery says, her tone soft as she touches my arm in a way I know is meant to be comforting but isn’t.
“Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe she hardly drinks when she’s with you because she feels like she has to behave?” Chris chimes in. “Maybe she’s actually a wild child at heart.”
I clench my jaw, wishing he’d go back to sucking face with his girlfriend.
“Yeah,” Jace claps a hand over my shoulder, hiding his smirk. “She’s just having fun. Besides, she’s got Ethan to take care of her, and I’m sure he’ll have no problem getting her to bed safely and tucking her in.”
“Do you want me to fucking throttle you?” I say, hyper focused on Ethan’s wandering hands that have found the sliver of bare skin between the waistband of her shorts and her top.
“Does he have to touch her so fucking much?” I growl.
The guys turn and stare in their direction.
“Remember when I had a plan to use the Love Playbook, but you insisted on playing the supportive friend instead?” Chris asks.
I flip him the bird.
“Just remember your endgame,” West chimes in.
I sigh and crack my neck from left to right.
There’s just something about Ethan I don’t trust—some intangible thing I can’t put my finger on.
Then again, I’m not exactly an unbiased judge of character in this case.
I’d loathe anyone she’s with that isn’t me, and he’s no exception.
Still, every time his hands shift to another inch of skin he shouldn’t be touching, or his lips brush the shell of her ear as he whispers something only she can hear, I want to drown myself in a vat of battery acid.
I groan, shoving a hand through my hair. “I’m going fucking insane.”
“I know we’re all keeping it low-key because we have a game tomorrow, and I’m your captain, so I should be encouraging you to stay sober,” Damon says, “but maybe you should drink your beer. A couple won’t hurt.
At this point, you’ll be distracted tomorrow anyway.
I think they’d actually help more than hurt. ”
“No way.” I shake my head.
“You’d be fine—” Jace starts.
“It’s not about our game,” I cut him off. “She’s drinking like a fish, which means I need to stay sober and have a completely clear head in case she needs me.”
“Isn’t that what her boyfriend’s for?” Jace mumbles and I barely refrain from strangling him.
Chris claps a hand over my shoulder, pity swimming in the pale blue of his eyes as he focuses on me. “Let us help you out, brother.”
“How?” I narrow my eyes, unsure of whether I should take his advice.
“Let’s join them.” He shrugs. “Stoke the fire a little bit.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, and he stares at me like I’m stupid.
“They’re playing Truth or Dare.”
“So?” I shrug.
“Dude, Truth or Dare is the original barometer for testing out whether there’s chemistry with a chick.”
West frowns. “Wouldn’t that be spin the bottle?”
“Shhh.” Chris holds up a hand, silencing him. “It’s the kick in the ass you need to get things moving in the right direction.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I can think of a thousand ways in which it could go wrong.”
Chris scoffs. “How could it go wrong? One of us picks either you or Tatum, you choose dare, we dare you to kiss, and boom. It’s that simple.”
I swallow, my stomach tying in knots at the thought of kissing Tatum. “I don’t know . . .” It fucking terrifies me. Because what if she feels nothing? I’m not sure I could handle the rejection that would follow.
“I’m not sure I want our first kiss to be a dare in front of all our friends,” I say.
Chris sighs. “You’re seriously going to police your first kiss when you’re desperate? We only have so long before we have to leave her here with him, seeing as how we play tomorrow. Who cares if the kiss is in front of people if it melts her panties?”
“Don’t talk about her fucking panties,” I growl.
The guys burst out laughing at my little outburst, and I want to kill them. All of them.
“So, you’d just rather Ethan do all the panty melting,” Jace asks with a raised brow. “Got it.”
“Fuck.” I glance back at the bonfire, homing in on Ethan’s hands on Tate’s bare skin, and I hear myself say, “Fine. Truth or Dare it is.”
The guys and I weave through the crowd while the ladies break off and head for the makeshift dance floor, past drunk couples grinding on each other and freshmen already passed out on lawn chairs.
I tell myself I’m not nervous, but my heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to escape its prison.
The orange glow of the firelight illuminates Tatum’s face as we approach, and something in my chest tightens.
Her cheeks are flushed, her movements loose and uncoordinated as she leans back against Ethan’s chest, clearly drunk as a skunk.
I haven’t seen her like this since our senior year of high school and the sight of her?glassy-eyed and vulnerable?forms a knot in the pit of my stomach.
I pause just in front of her, feeling the warmth of the fire on the side of my face. “Mind if we join you?” I ask, trying my best to sound casual as I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans, but the way Ethan’s arms tighten around her waist has me feeling anything but.
Tatum glances up at me, her cornflower gaze narrowing in a way that would tell me she’s wasted if it wasn’t already entirely obvious. “There you are,” she slurs. “Finally not too busy to hang out with us?”
I frown as the guys scatter around the firepit, taking their places while I fight the urge to scoop her up into my arms, so I can carry her back to the dorms where I know she’ll be safe.
Where she can sleep it off until morning.
Where I can ply her with electrolytes and ibuprofen until her hangover fades.
She pats the hard ground beside her, and I sink down, ignoring her comment because I’m not really sure what to say. I know I’m being a dick by avoiding her, but being friendly with Ethan is easier said than done.
“Have you had a turn yet?” I ask, motioning toward the chick who’s shot gunning a beer for a dare.
She shakes her head with a grin. “Not yet, but so far, everyone’s being pretty civil and keeping things tame.”
“Boring, you mean. Everyone’s being pretty boring,” I correct, and she snorts, because I know how much Tate loves these kinds of party games.
She lives for them, in fact. Despite spending most of our time as just the two of us in high school, when we did go to parties, she’d do nearly anything on a dare.
A breeze ruffles a lock of her dark hair, and I inhale, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, a scent that’s floral and so uniquely Tate it makes my heart twist.
Screw Truth or Dare.
Maybe I could ask her to go for a walk? Steal her away from this circle and sober her up?
I allow the thought to ruminate as the chick across from us finishes chugging her beer with a dramatic gasp. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as Chris leans into her, murmuring something behind his hand, and immediately, her sharp gaze scans the circle until her eyes land on me.
“Brandon, truth or dare?”
I freeze, glancing between her and Chris, who’s wearing the most self-satisfied smirk I’ve ever seen. Fuck, he works fast.
My heart beats out of my chest as I muster my courage.
This is it.
The moment I’ve been waiting for.
The one when I’ll finally kiss Tate.
The one when everything changes.
“Dare,” I say, proud of myself when my voice doesn’t shake.
Chris whispers something in the chick’s ear and she grins, her gaze doing a slow slide down my body. “Take everything off and play the rest of the game in the nude.”
My gaze darts back to Chris with a sharp look that clearly conveys my thoughts—What the fuck?
“Um, can I have a word, Chris?” I say as I rise to my feet and motion for him to follow.
“What, why? Are you hiding something, Lambert?” he asks, tipping his chin toward me.
I’m going to fucking kill him. With my bare hands. Snuff the light out of his eyes, ever so slowly.
I stare him down until he chuckles and rises to his feet. “One sec,” he announces to the crowd of half-drunken party goers sitting around the fire, then closes the distance between us in a few short strides.
“What the fuck?” I hiss-whisper. “I thought the whole plan was for you to dare me to—” I lower my voice even further and flick a glance back at Tatum to find her watching us. “You know.” I motion with my hand
Chris grins. “Just relax and trust the process.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is this a Love Playbook thing?”
“What?” His eyes widen, a feigned look of offense etched over the lines of his face, further exacerbated when he gasps, “Why ever would you think that?”