Chapter 17 #2
I glare at him. He raises his beer half an inch in salute and stays exactly where he is.
I turn back to Paxton’s story without hearing a word of it.
I don’t look at Lucy for two full minutes.
The crowd disperses and now Walsh is talking everyone’s ears off.
Blue, Percy, and I just drink our beers and silently watch the party.
It’s been about fifteen minutes since I’ve ignored Lucy’s existence.
Percy was right that I was being very fucking obvious and needed to tone it down a bit.
But I can’t help myself, I’m like a puppy when they see their new owner.
Everything’s new and fun, and my tail’s fucking wagging, and I can’t even help it.
I’m about to bounce off these walls if she doesn’t come talk to me soon.
My eyes roam through all the faces in this room until I find my sister first, and then Lucy behind her in the corner talking to Paxton Bowie.
My heart races at the sight. Paxton has his arm leaning against the wall above her head.
She’s not pinned by any means, but the proximity makes my gut curdle.
There’s enough space for her to walk past him whenever she wants to, but that’s only half of why I’m churning.
It’s the big smile plastered on her face.
The same one she had when I was flirting with her.
Seeing it makes my jaw clench. I’ve known Paxton since we were eighteen and have watched him hit on at least two dozen girls at parties.
I know what he looks like when he wants to sleep with a girl.
He’s hitting on Lucy, and she’s blushing.
My blood whooshes into my ears. I take a Camdenth and remind myself that Lucy is allowed to talk to whoever she wants. She ended things with me this morning. She is allowed.
It takes my brain a fraction of a fraction of a second to not believe it.
She’s not talking to me because of my sister, and that’s all this is.
I drink my beer and look at Gianna. As if she knows what I’m thinking, she looks back at me.
I lift my beer, and she lifts her cup. I chug the rest. She thinks I don’t know what she’s doing, but I know exactly what she’s doing.
I head to the kitchen for another beer, which I supplied tonight like I promised Rowan. I crack it open with my teeth and take a sip. It does absolutely nothing for me.
Gianna claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Who wants to play truth or dare?”
For fuck’s sake, G.
Mara whoops. People migrate. I don’t move. Then Gianna is in front of me.
“Benson, you too. Come on.”
“G, I’m not—”
“You’re the host. Get in the circle.”
I look past her. Mara is pulling Lucy by the wrist toward the circle. Paxton is right behind her. What are they…a thing? Why do they look like a thing already?
There are about nine people. I sit between Blue and Walsh. Lucy sits across from me between Mara and Paxton. The geometry is set before I sit down. Mara is next to Gianna. Gianna is next to Walsh’s girlfriend. Lucy is in the middle of the circle, facing me, with Paxton to her right.
Lucy looks at me. Once. I look back, but we both quickly look away.
Stanley walks in with an empty Corona bottle held over his head. He slams it down in the middle of the circle. “Spin the bottle, ladies and gentlemen. Old school. None of this truth-or-dare bullshit. We do this as God intended.”
People laugh. Mara claps. Gianna whoops louder than the moment calls for. I notice. My sister has positioned herself outside the circle so she can watch from a vantage point. She’s orchestrating this entire thing between Lucy and Paxton.
“Bowie’s the guest,” Stanley says, grabbing his shoulders. “All the way from California. UCLA kicked our asses last season. Do the honors for us, Bowie.”
Paxton grins, flattered, as he reaches for the bottle. He looks at Lucy, winks, and then spins it. Pain in my fucking ass. The bottle goes around the circle, slows and slows.
It stops on Lucy, and I fucking scowl.
Gianna whistles loudly. Two fingers in her mouth, the way our dad taught her when she was eleven. ”Hell yeah! Yes. Yes, Lucy, go!”
Mara hollers. The circle makes a collective sound. Paxton turns to Lucy with a slow grin. Lucy’s face is pink, looking back at Paxton.
Paxton leans in, and I see fucking red.
I don’t even realize what I’m doing until I’ve grabbed Paxton by the collar of his shirt and slam him against the fucking wall.
“Reeve, what the fuck—” I think that’s Stanley.
I mutter to Paxton, “This isn’t fucking LA.” The wall rattles when he tries to push me off, but I hold him there.
“Reeve, what the fuck, man?” I feel hands on my shoulders.
I lean in and sputter, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“It’s a fucking game, Benson!” Gianna shouts, so I look at her, and it gives Paxton the opportunity to swing.
My head turns, and I don’t register why at first. It’s a fucking shock. First it’s warm, then it’s a heat at the corner of my mouth, then it’s a real pain in the bone, and by then I am already turning back. I throw my shoulder into him, and we both go down.
The floor is sticky. My shoulder blade hits something.
Someone is yelling — Stanley, I think — yo yo yo yo yo, and I am on top of Paxton, punching him back.
Then he’s on top of me, giving it right back.
Beers fly, girls scream, and my teammates are trying their best to Camdenk us apart, but I’m determined to kick his fucking ass to remind him whose turf he’s on.
I get a solid one on his nose. He gets me right in the fucking cheek.
Walsh and Blue are on us. Blue gets me. Walsh gets Paxton.
They pull, and this time, I let them. Blue has my shirt collar in one fist and his other arm across my chest. Paxton is on his feet with his hand over his nose.
The house is quiet except for somebody’s phone in the other room playing Taylor Swift.
Stanley says, “Yo, what the fuck, Reeve?”
I wipe my bloody mouth.
Paxton, wiping his nose with the back of his wrist, eyes hot, says, “Reeve, what the actual fuck.”
I look at him while I catch my Camdenth. We’re both a bloody fucking mess. There’s alcohol spilled across the floor. Everyone’s quiet and staring. Blue still has me by the shirt. I look at the blood dripping out of his nose and exhale. I fucked up big time.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “You can’t just come here and fucking––”
Then Gianna’s voice cuts through. “Benson.”
I look at her. Her eyes are wide and furious. She shouldn’t be so fucking surprised.
I glance to her left and right, but I don’t see Lucy. Where the fuck did she go? I scan the kitchen, the hall, the dining room, and the corner where she had been. She isn’t anywhere.
I push past Blue and the rest of the guys.
Stanley says my name, but I don’t stop. The hallway is a tunnel.
The front door is open. The screen is swinging shut on a spring that has been broken since June.
I push through the screen. The porch is cold.
The street is colder. Down at the bottom of the front walk, twenty feet ahead of me, walking fast under the streetlight without a jacket, is Lucy.
She looks back, and when she notices me, she doesn’t stop. I jump down the steps and chase after her.