9. Annie
Chapter 9
Annie
“Y ou know, if you’d rather drown your sorrows in booze, I heard Roman's hosting an after-party tonight,” Colton said. “Family’s out of town.” Cole’s head spun on a dime toward Colton, his scowl coming back out fully.
With my cheek pressed into Xavi’s chest, I watched him, watched the way his irritated expression slowly faded into a sly smirk. Warmth practically cocooned me from the hoodie around my upper body and Xavi’s frame against my front, and for a second, I let myself truly think about what I wanted out of tonight.
I could go home alone, let them drop me off at my apartment, and cry in my shower, or I could do what sounded like the most fun idea — hanging out with these three random men who seemed to want to make me feel better.
The vision of these three men, naked, hands on my body, flashed across the screen behind my eyes.
I'm a good girl.
Cole opened his mouth, the lines on his forehead more pronounced as he stared Colton down. “We’re not?—”
“That sounds fun,” I blurted. Cole practically froze, his forehead smoothing out. “If you guys want to, I mean. I’m not, like, trying to be a… what do you guys call them? You have a nickname for the puck bunnies don’t you?”
“Flames,” Xavi chuckled, his chest vibrating against my cheek. “You’re not being a flame by accepting an invitation to a party.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a flame,” Colton said, rolling his eyes. “But I think we know damn well that if you were one, you would’ve been doing most of the flirting the last few times we saw you. And I’m pretty sure that’s not how it went down.”
“You don’t know that. You two were drunk out of your minds last time I saw you,” I shot back, teasing him. “You wouldn’t have even remembered if I’d flirted with you.”
His brows raised, genuine surprise rolling off him. “Wait, did you flirt with me?”
“She’s teasing you, you idiot,” Xavi laughed.
Colton’s lower lip jutted out dramatically, and I couldn’t help but feel at least a little bad for teasing him.
“Can you handle a party, Cole?” Xavi asked, his hand tightening around my shoulder. I didn’t know what it was with him, whether it was the ease of talking to Xavi or the casual playfulness he exuded, but I found myself wanting to sink into him further.
“I… I’m sorry, I assumed everyone wanted to go. You can just drop me off at home,” I offered, lifting my head off Xavi’s chest the moment I noticed a flicker of something that was either irritation or impatience flickering across Cole’s face.
“Nope, we’re going,” Cole said, his mouth falling into a flat line as he stepped back, opening up the trash door. Light spilled out onto the alleyway in an instant, and I almost squinted from the harshness of it. “Where’s your bag, Annie?”
I blinked at him. Confusion settled in — did he not want to go? And if he didn’t, why wasn’t he just saying that? He didn’t seem like the kind of person to hide if something was getting on his nerves.
“Uh, I can leave my performance bag, I’ll just pick it up tomorrow,” I swallowed, slowly settling my head back on Xavi’s chest. “My purse is in the staff room. Last door on the left after Gabriel’s office. Thank you.”
He nodded once and stepped inside, disappearing and taking the light of the hallway with him.
————
This wasn’t a house party. This place was a mansion .
I stared out the front window of Cole’s Cadillac, the bass so loud from the thumping music in the building in front of us that it shook the floorboards of the SUV. Xavi unbuckled himself beside me in the backseat, his head tipping toward the door.
“Come on, then, party girl,” he said, pulling the handle and kicking the door open.
Cole glared at him in the rearview mirror. “Xav, please don’t use your foot. I’ve asked you a million times?—”
Xavi was out and the door slammed before Cole could finish his sentence. He dragged a hand down his face in exasperation before pushing his own door open, Colton following suit in front of me.
Colton was the closest — he got to my door before the rest of them could even try, and try they did. By the time my door was swinging open, Cole was rounding the front of the car and Xavi was coming up the rear, all three of them somehow surrounding me again like flies to cake. But I didn’t feel like cake.
“Uh, thank you,” I said confusedly, taking his outstretched hand and practically jumping down from the car, catching myself with his grip on me before I could tumble over.
The four of us walked toward the house in relative silence, the sea of bodies evident through the windows. Jerseys were everywhere , a sea of gold and blue.
A drink was thrust into each of our hands the moment we stepped over the threshold.I stared down at mine, not trusting it in the slightest. I didn’t know how secure these kinds of parties were, but even on the off chance they were considered safe, I didn’t want to drink it.
Colton must have noticed.
“I’ll get you something better,” he said over the music, plucking the red solo cup out of my hand and immediately setting it on the nearest surface available. “Follow me. I’ll find the kitchen.”
I blinked up at him as he started to split from the group, my gaze lingering on Xavi and Cole, but they were already engaged in conversation with someone I didn’t recognize. They’ll be fine.
I followed Colton through the sea of bodies, the music so loud I could barely make out words being said around me. There were so many girls here, some younger than me and some older, but most of them had one thing in common — they repped the team, either with a fitted jersey or team colors. I almost felt out of place in Xavi’s plain black hoodie and my casual get-up.
Gripping onto the back of Colton’s jacket, I watched scenes play out around me as if I were walking through a goddamn movie. Men so drunk they were pouring beer over their heads, almost every corner a dedicated heavy-petting zone, the sounds of something breaking somewhere behind us and no one batting an eye. It was chaos, but it was fun, and I hadn’t been to a party this crazy in years — not since college.
We rounded a corner into what was definitely meant to be a kitchen but had been converted into a do-it-yourself-style bar. Bottles upon bottles of alcohol lined the island, some expensive and some cheap, with multiple kegs stacked around the walkways ripe for the picking.
“What do you want to drink?” Colton asked, spinning on a dime and walking backward to keep his eyes locked on me. Stray strands of straight, black hair hung around his cheeks as he grinned at me, that stupid little ponytail catching on his shoulder. “Or should I let you make it since you’re so much better at it?”
I shook my head, laughing at his jab. “Nah, you can make it. Rum and coke would be great.”
Colton chuckled and picked out a bottle of Captain Morgan’s and poured more than the usual careful two fingers worth. He reached for the coke next, cracking open a new one and waiting for it to hiss. “You’re not one of those people who just like a splash of soda in their alcohol, are you?”
“I’m more of a splash-of-alcohol-in-my-soda type of girl.”
His grin turned wicked as he glanced at me, pouring the coke into the cup with careful precision to keep it from foaming over. “So you’re a lightweight. Good to know. Maybe drink this really slowly.”
Heat rose in my cheeks as I pushed my lips together, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break across my cheeks. “That’s not what I?—”
“Should I just go ahead and find a sippy cup for you instead?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, reaching for the cup just as he finished pouring, but he lifted it out of reach with far too much ease. I reached up fully on my tiptoes, the cup still almost a full foot away, huffing my slight annoyance at his echoing laughter.
“Jesus,” I groaned, dropping my arms and putting my heels back on the ground. “Why are you so tall ? It’s not fair.”
“Genes, and protein shakes,” he said, shrugging as he kept the cup high in the air, his grin infectious. “Not my fault you turned out so short, sweetheart.”
I crossed my arms, trying to dull the smile that was barely hidden at this point. “Are you done bullying me?”
He laughed again, the sound cutting through the music as he finally lowered his arm, handing me the drink. His fingers brushed against mine as I took it, and I swallowed, not exactly hating the way his calloused digits felt against my skin. “For now,” he said, winking at me.
“You ass,” I muttered.
I barely got the cup to my lips before the scent of rum hit me — rich, heavy, and definitely not proportioned correctly. I swallowed it down fast, fighting my own throat to do so and pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth to keep from grimacing. I looked up at Colton’s waiting expression, his brows raised as if I were about to praise him. “Are you trying to kill me?”
His dimple deepened, his blue eyes twinkling with far too much amusement for my liking. “What, too strong for little ol’ Annie?”
I laughed then, truly and fully, for what might have been the first time this evening.
He snorted, and behind us, a familiar set of voices filtered in. I looked over my shoulder, watching as Cole and Xavi walked into the kitchen with someone I hadn’t met before, but he looked vaguely familiar. All short-cropped dark brown hair with a sprayed-on blue streak and an easy, lopsided grin on his face, two lines of blue on each of his cheeks.
Cole looked every bit of unenthusiastic about the party as he had since we’d gotten in the car, and he motioned lazily in my direction and back at the kid. “Annie, this is Samson. Samson, Annie.”
“Ah, so you’re who these two were talking about,” he said, a hint of a french-canadian accent like Xavi’s slipping through.
“Oh?” I chuckled, leaning back against the counter beside Colton. “And what exactly have they been saying?”
“Nothing but good things, don’t worry,” he grinned, raising his hands in surrender.
“Hey,” Colton said, cutting through the thoughts spiraling in my head. I looked up at him, still holding my cup against my lips. “Come on, sweetheart. You look like you’re about to start a bar fight, and while that’d be hot as hell, I’ve got a much better idea.”
I shot him a glare, desperately trying to tamp down the rising fire spreading through my veins. “Oh yeah? What’s what?”
He chuckled lightly and took another step toward me, crowding me just slightly. “Dance with me,” he grinned, his eyes going dark as he looked down at me.
“ Dance ?” I laughed, taking another sip of my drink. “Colton, this is a house party. There’s not a dance floor in sight.”
He waved a hand dismissively toward the crowd on the other side of the kitchen doorway. “There’s a living room. Is that not good enough for you?”
“I’m not drunk enough for that.”
He rolled his eyes, two of his fingers coming up on the underside of my cup and lifting it to my lips. “That’s an easy fix, Annie.”
I rolled my eyes and took another sip, bigger this time, enough to make my skin buzz. I couldn’t deny how the single, dumb little action made me feel — like he was encouraging me in a way he thought would help. He was trying, and that was more than could be said about most other people I’d met, even if he was a little crazy about it. “You just want to show off, don’t you?”
He pressed a hand to his chest, throwing his shoulder back as if he’d been shot, as if I’d wounded him. “Me? Never.” He righted himself before leaning in a little more, lowering his upper body to bring his head in line with my own. I watched him over the rim of the solo cup, my eyes narrowed on him, my breathing a little unsteady with him this close. “I think you just need a distraction, sweetheart, and I happen to be a fuckin’ excellent one.”
I hesitated for just a second, his words swirling in my head like a challenge I couldn’t ignore. Maybe I did need the distraction. Maybe. “You’re so intense.”
He chuckled lightly, his head tipping a little forward, his long, loose strands falling forward over his face. His hand went flat, palm up in front of me — an offering. “I’ve been told.”
“Fine,” I muttered reluctantly, slapping my hand onto his. His fingers closed around it instantly, and I swallowed, my pulse fluttering at the contact. “But only because I’m positive you’ll throw a tantrum if I don’t dance with you.”
His smirk widened, turning into an all-out grin as he tugged me toward him gently enough to not spill my drink. “I’ll make it worth your while. Promise.”
I let him lead me toward the music, his fingers warm around mine, and all I could think was—if just holding his hand felt like this, I had no idea how I was going to survive dancing with his body pressed against mine.