Chapter Thirteen
Presley
Agatha and I walk hand in hand up the front lawn toward the party. A group of kids from school hangs out nearby, smoking weed, while a few others huddle in deep conversation.
“Did you see the way Rygaard was killin’ those players out on the field?” one of them says, catching my attention.
“Yeah, man. I don’t know what got into him after the half, but I’m damn sure glad it happened. Otherwise, they would’ve caught their first L of the season.” That’s Walter Meadows, the guy I’ve got fifth period Ag with. He’s grinning like he was the one out there making tackles.
Hearing that Ry’s playing in the second half turned it around for the team puts a stupid smile on my face, because I know I’m the reason why.I don’t want to think of myself as his lucky charm, his words, not mine, but here I am, doing exactly that.If he hadn’t gotten his hands on me before the end of the game, all hell would've broken loose, and I would’ve been in deep shit.
A few games ago, I had a recital and couldn’t meet him beforehand. He left me twenty-seven voicemails and texts, all saying the same thing: we had to link up before kickoff.
I didn’t. There wasn’t time. So Ry told Coach he couldn’t play.
Football suicide?
Probably. But he didn’t care.
Later that night, he found me doing what I do best: flirting with Kenny. It pissed him off. But it also gave me exactly the reaction I’d been trying to get out of him for a long time.
Of all the things I could be thinking about right now, this is where my brain goes. I stifle a groan and lean into Agatha’s side, letting her steer us inside.
Donovan Brandy’s place is huge. He’s a wide receiver, chill dude, and clearly rich. It smells like weed and alcohol, but what do you expect from a football team throwdown after a win? They earned it.
“Let’s get a beer,” Agatha says, tugging me toward a makeshift drink station set up behind the massive kitchen island.
The kitchen? Bigger than my entire house.Double-wall oven, plus a freestanding one. Stainless steel everything. Hidden, chef-style fridges behind wood-paneled doors. It’s a dream .“What I wouldn’t do to cook in this kitchen,” I whisper under my breath.
“I mean, my parents wouldn’t mind. They’re never here,” Donovan says, stepping up behind me.
He’s close. Too close. Close enough that I can feel his body heat curling around mine.
Donovan is pretty-boy perfection. Vanilla skin kissed by Helios himself. Broad, tattoo-free shoulders. Dimples that could melt morals and crystal-blue eyes framed by golden-blond hair that grazes his shoulders like it’s in slow motion.
“Is that so?” I murmur, watching him nod. “Okay, I might just take you up on that, Dee,” I say, tossing him a wink.
“Do that. In the meantime, are you ready to party?” The room erupts.
“Grab a drink, mingle, and get ready for some fun,” he continues. “Seven minutes in Heaven with a football player starts in ten.”
Then his hands slide onto my hips, and he pulls me back against him. “Save me a dance?” he whispers, lips brushing the back of my neck.
My cheeks flare. Not because I want him. But because if Ry sees this… I’ll be the one catching hell.
“Sure thing,” I lie. He grins, presses a kiss to my neck, and walks off to get the game started.
Suddenly, Agatha yanks my arm. “What the heck was that ?” she hisses.
“Wish I could tell you,” I say, still stunned. “No idea what’s gotten into these football players. Didn’t they learn from what happened between me and Wiley?”
“Maybe they need a refresher,” she laughs. “C’mon. Let’s check out this seven minutes in Heaven crap.”
I huff but let her pull me away.And I can only imagine where this night is going.
* * *
Later…
The game turns out exactly how it sounds, seven minutes in Heaven with a football player.Girls lining up to make out with half the team, giggling like it’s prom night and their fantasies are finally coming true.
When Rygaard steps up, I don’t wait to see what happens. No way am I watching him disappear into a closet with some other girl.
“I’m gonna go get a drink,” I shout to Agatha. She nods, not taking her eyes off the scene.
The second he steps forward, the room erupts in howls and catcalls. It’s like he’s the next one up to bat. In a way… he is.
I bail.Coward move? Definitely. But my pride is intact.
At the drink station, Ryleigh spots me. “Prez, what’ll it be?”
“Something to give me the courage to do something out of the ordinary,” I say without blinking.
She grins. “Say less.” A moment later, she slides a cup toward me. “Bottoms up, baby girl.”
That nickname makes something stir deep inside me. I sniff. “Shit, that’s strong.”
“You bet your ass it is. Now quit playing and drink it.”
I toss it back. “Fuck. That burns so good.”
“Another?” she offers.
“Two more.” And she delivers.
Now I’m buzzing. Warm. Lightheaded. Feeling like I could do something really stupid.
“Alright, baby girl, go out there and live a little,” she says.
I’m ready. Only… Rygaard is nowhere to be found. “Bloody hell,” I mutter.All that liquid courage, wasted. He’s probably in that damn closet with someone else. It’s probably for the best. Still, I wander off, looking for a staircase, somewhere to disappear and sleep this off.
“How could I be so stupid to think he actually wanted me?” I mumble.I find a door, twist the knob, and slip inside. Empty. Thank God. I push it closed… Only to be shoved back as someone steps in.
“What the hell, ?” I yelp as strong hands catch me by the waist.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
It’s Rygaard. Voice low. Rough. Hungry.
“Rygaard? What are you doing here?”
“I saw you,” he growls, pushing the door shut with his foot.
“Saw me what?”
“Saw you with Donovan. Saw his hands on you. Saw him all over you.” He stalks toward me.
“Why? Are you jealous, Ry?” He pulls me close. Nose to nose. His breath warm and heavy on my skin.
“You haven’t seen jealous,” he says. “Not until you’ve seen me watch you with someone else. I define jealous, Prez.” He backs me up. “I don’t care if someone looks at what’s mine. But when they touch it?” His eyes flare. “That’s when I lose my fucking mind.”
A shiver tears through me.
“Oh, now I’m yours?” I challenge, even as my heart pounds. “That’s funny, weren’t you just in a closet with some bimbo from class?”
I barely register what happens next.
.