Chapter 5 #2
“And you didn't correct them,” she cuts in. “You just stood there accepting congratulations while I was still sweaty from crawling around the mechanical room.”
“Come on, Greer. I didn't think it was that big of a deal—”
“Of course, you didn't.” She laughs, short and sharp. “You were even in the camp newsletter for it. My work, your face.”
The newsletter? Who the hell even reads that thing? And is this seriously what she’s so pissed about? Some minor misunderstanding months ago.
“I never said I fixed it.” I frown. “I didn't even know about the newsletter. Nobody reads those.”
“Right.” She clearly doesn't believe me. “Must be nice being you, Hawkins. Getting credit for things you don't even remember doing.”
I'm not sure why this matters so much to her. It was just a stupid AC unit.
“Lighten up, Mittens,” I say, trying to defuse the tension. “It wasn't personal.”
Her expression hardens at the nickname—the one I gave her after seeing those ridiculous protective gloves she'd been wearing while working on the unit. I thought it was kind of cute at the time but now I’m realizing how much it pisses her off. And that kinda makes me want to use it more.
“That's the problem with guys like you, Hawkins.” She steps closer, voice low. “Nothing ever is personal because nothing ever needs to be. You have no idea what it's like to work twice as hard and still be invisible.”
I open my mouth to argue, but something in her eyes stops me. This isn't just anger. This is... hurt.
Before I can figure out what to say, she turns and disappears into the crowd.
I stand there, confused and slightly buzzed, wondering why the hell she cares so much about an AC unit and a stupid camp newsletter nobody reads.
And for some reason, I suddenly feel like I’ve missed something important.
She doesn’t look back. I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair.
What the hell just happened? I was supposed to be annoying her.
Teasing her. Getting under her skin. Not.
.. completely thrown off my game. And yet, here I am.
Standing here like an idiot, watching her walk away—all long legs and that perfect ass and that stupid vanilla-leather perfume she probably doesn’t even know drives me insane.
Thinking about the fact that she wants a good fuck tonight.
And that it will never be me. Because she hates me—for something I didn’t even do, how the hell can I help it if people want to thank me?
And now, she’s maybe giving that opportunity to Jared.
Jared.
Jared, who “fucks like a rabbit,” according to the rumor mill. Fast, messy, zero finesse. Exactly not what she needs.
Fucking hell.
I grab my beer and finish what’s left in one long, bitter gulp.
I should be focused right now because the girl in front of me? Ridiculously hot.
Tan skin, long legs, toned from hours of volleyball practice—she’s exactly the kind of girl I should be taking home tonight. And I almost do.
We’re standing by the stairs, her fingers trailing up my arm, her lips inches from mine as she laughs at something I said.
I should be closing the deal and paying attention to her. I know how to win her over, exactly what she wants, but instead…
Instead—
My eyes flick toward the other side of the room.
And just like that, I forget all about volleyball girl.
Because Delilah is talking to Jared.
Fucking Jared. I told her anyone but him.
My grip on my beer tightens. I don’t know why I feel so protective over her.
We spent all summer bickering with one another; she started it by being sassy with me for absolutely no reason, and I discovered she was really fun to wind up.
But I want to protect her, make sure she’s ok.
And Jared is certainly not the guy for her.
Jared is leaning in, his hand braced against the wall next to her head. His stupid, smug grin is in full force, the one he uses when he thinks he’s winning.
And Delilah isn’t pulling away.
My stomach tightens.
I know I should let it go. I should turn back to the very attractive, very willing girl in front of me and let Delilah do whatever the hell she wants.
I don’t even know why I care.
But suddenly, my body is moving before I can think.
I cockblock myself by stepping away from volleyball girl, barely registering her confused “Hey, where are you going?” as I cut across the room.
Delilah sees me approaching, but she doesn’t move. Jared doesn’t either.
Big mistake.
I step in, smooth as hell, slipping an arm around Delilah’s waist like I own her.
Like I have any fucking right to. I hover my hand behind her so I’m not actually touching her.
“Jared,” I say, flashing him a sharp grin. “Didn’t realize you were still here, man.”
He frowns. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”
I pull Delilah tighter against me.
“Because Delilah’s leaving.”
Delilah stiffens, but she doesn’t push me away.
Jared’s eyes flick to where my hand is on her hip.
I see the exact moment he registers what’s happening.
He lets out a dry laugh, eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh. I see how it is.”
Delilah finally speaks up. “Jared—”
“No worries,” Jared interrupts, smirking slightly as he steps back. “Didn’t realize I was stepping on someone’s toes.”
I say nothing, just watch him walk away.
And then Delilah shoves me off her.
“What the hell was that?” she demands, stepping back.
I shrug, completely unbothered. “Getting rid of an asshole. You’re welcome.”
Her eyes flash. “I don’t need you to swoop in and save me, Hawkins.”
“Yeah?” I tilt my head, stepping into her space again. “Then why didn’t you push me off?”
She huffs, crossing her arms. “I was stunned by the sheer audacity of it all.”
“Bullshit,” I say easily.
Her jaw clenches. “You’re insufferable.”
“You didn’t want him,” I point out. “If you did, you would’ve pushed me away immediately.”
She says nothing. Which means I’m right.
I grin. “Jared’s an ass, and you know it.”
She groans, looking away like she wants to escape this conversation. “I hate that you’re right.”
“Yeah, that must be really hard for you.”
Her eyes snap back to mine, fiery again. “Unbelievable.”
She turns to leave.
I should let her go.
I really should. Instead, I call after her.
“By the way, Mittens—if you’re still looking for that orgasm, I’d be happy to assist.”
She doesn’t even give me the satisfaction of a response. Just flips me off over her shoulder.
And somehow, I’m still grinning as she disappears into the crowd.
This is not how I pictured my last first party going. I expected to be in the arms of a beautiful sorority girl, whispering naughty things in her ear and watching her come again and again.
Instead, I’m walking home with my little sister and her emotionally repressed boyfriend.
This is a loss.
Total fucking defeat.
It all spiraled the second I cockblocked myself. Because after Delilah stormed off, I figured—fine. Whatever. I’d just head back to volleyball girl, flash a grin, toss out a “Sorry about that, babe,” and pick up where I left off.
Except by the time I found her, she was already curled up on the couch with some broad-shouldered hockey dude. Looked like a damn sportswear ad. And she was not interested in hearing my half-baked explanation.
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”
That’s all she said.
So now I’m here.
Walking down a freezing-ass street, hands jammed in my pockets, third-wheeling my own sister.
And I have never felt less like a winner in my entire life.
“Did you at least have fun?” Tara asks, nudging me with her elbow.
I shrug. “Sure.”
She snorts. “You sound thrilled.”
I glance at her. She’s all bundled up in Alfie’s jacket, which is way too big for her.
“It was fine,” I say, shooting her a grin. “First night back out. Just getting into the rhythm.” I shake out my shoulders as though I’m doing a warm-up.
Tara hums, unconvinced.
“By ‘getting into the rhythm’ do you mean ‘crashing and burning so hard that you ended up walking home with us’?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”
“It’s just weird, you know? Usually, you’d be”—she waves her hands vaguely—“stumbling home with some happy, random girl.”
I exhale sharply, irritated. Because she’s right. Normally, I’d be anywhere but here.
I should have been. Instead, I wasted half my night getting tangled up in Delilah fucking Greer’s love life.
And all for nothing. She still hates me and there is zero chance of me giving her that orgasm. As much as it would be fun to have a one-time fling with Delilah, I know she would never bite. She’s made it perfectly clear how not into me she is.
“So, did you check your email yet?” Tara asks.
“For what?”
“The competition. You said you don’t even know what it’s about yet,” she says, like it should be obvious.
“Oh. Right.” I shrug. “I haven’t looked yet. I’ll check tomorrow.”
My enthusiasm after finding out Jared was in got swiftly replaced with excitement for the party.
“Seriously?” Tara frowns.
“Yeah. And?”
She huffs, like she can’t believe my complete lack of concern.
“Troy, you realize this is, like, a huge deal, right?”
“I guess.” Tara’s always been more…detail-oriented than I. I don’t sweat the small stuff, really.
She gawks at me. “You guess?”
I shrug again. “Look, if It goes well it goes well alright.”
Tara stares at me, visibly offended by my complete lack of urgency.
“You are so annoying.”
“And yet, you keep talking to me. Anyway, have you heard back yet, Alf?”
Alfie—who has been silent this entire time, just existing in his usual state of quiet judgment—finally speaks.
“I didn’t apply,” he says.
Tara blinks. “What? Why not?”
“It’s partnered,” Alfie says simply. “I didn’t want to deal with that my senior year. I don’t really need it either. The stuff with meteorites is going really well.”
“Wait, it’s partnered?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Alfie says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “They are making you network and find someone with a complementary skill set.”
I frown. “That sounds like a pain in the ass.”
“Exactly,” Alfie says. “I’ve got enough shit on my plate with research.”
Tara rolls her eyes. “You two are so dumb. You could have at least tried—”
“And have to deal with some random person dragging me down?” Alfie raises a brow. “No, thanks.”
Tara gives him a flat look. “You do realize most people would be lucky to have you as a partner, right? You would be a great team worker.”
Alfie says nothing, just shrugs like it’s not worth discussing.
I sigh. “Alright, I’ll check tomorrow. Happy?”
“Fine,” Tara mutters. “It’s only because I care about your future.”
I shake my head, wondering how the hell I ended up here, having a conversation about “my future” instead of drunk in someone else’s bed.
Tara nudges my arm again.
“Hey. I know you’re trying to act all cool and whatever, but you kinda seem like you’re in a bad mood.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “You could say that.”
She waits, probably hoping I’ll open up or something. I don’t. I just keep walking, hands jammed in my jacket pockets.
I’m not even sure what’s bothering me more—the fact that I torched my shot with volleyball girl, or the image stuck in my head that won’t let go.
Delilah.
That look in her eye. That voice, flat and fearless.
I want an orgasm.
Like it was just a task to cross off her to-do list.
And now I can’t stop wondering if she got it.
If she found someone tonight—maybe Jared, maybe not—someone who made her lose that perfect little edge of control.
I grit my teeth.
Good for her.
Seriously.
Good for fucking her.