Chapter 6
Chapter Six
SUTTON
I'm here. At the party. Where I absolutely do not want to be.
"You're coming," Keira said an hour ago, standing in my tiny apartment with her arms crossed. "I'm revoking best-friend privileges if you say no."
"You can't do that."
"Watch me."
So here I am, squeezed into jeans I haven't worn in weeks and a black top that Keira insisted made me look hot. Miserable is the look I’m sporting. I think I wear it well.
The house is packed. Bodies everywhere, the bass so loud I can feel it in my chest. There are red cups littering every available surface.
The Wolves won tonight, so half the campus showed up to celebrate.
It's the kind of crowd where you can disappear if you want to.
Blend in. Pretend you're just another person having a good time.
For about twenty minutes, it almost works.
Keira gets us drinks. Some horrible punch that tastes like it's 90 percent vodka and 10 percent Hawaiian punch.
The taste is not why you drink it. I force it now, and not surprisingly, the more I drink, the better it tastes.
We find a spot halfway down the hall where we can see into the living room but without being in the thick of things.
"See?" Keira says, leaning close so I can hear her over the music. "This isn't so bad."
I'm about to agree with her and say maybe she was right. Getting out of my apartment was exactly what I needed.
But the words die in my throat.
I see him.
Declan is across the room by the fireplace, and he's not alone.
The girl beside him is stunning. Dark hair that falls in perfect waves past her shoulders, long legs that seem to go on forever, wearing a tiny black dress that's definitely designer.
She's laughing at something, her hand on his arm, leaning in close like they're sharing secrets. Her tits rub against his arm, and I think I’m going to puke.
"Don't look," Keira says immediately, but it's too late. I'm already looking. I can't stop looking.
He's laughing, too. Not the fake laugh he does when he’s just being nice to one of his fans. That’s his real smile. Real laugh.
He looks good.
And I hate that.
"Sutton." Keira steps in front of me, blocking my view. "Stop. Don't do this to yourself."
"Who is she?" My voice is raspy, like I’ve been screaming. Internally, I am screaming.
"I don't know. Does it matter?"
Yes. It matters. It matters so much I can barely breathe.
"She's probably just some random girl," Keira continues. "You know how these parties are. Everyone's drunk and friendly."
But she doesn't look random. She looks intentional. Like she knows exactly what she wants, and she's going to get it. Declan is easily the hottest guy on campus. Every girl wants him.
A lot have had him.
Not the way I had him, though. I know that. And I hate that I had to give him up.
I take another drink of the terrible punch. Then another.
"Okay, we're leaving," Keira says, grabbing my cup. "This was a bad idea. I'm sorry. Let's go."
"No." I take the cup back. "I'm fine. I need a refill."
"You're not fine."
"I think one more glass of punch ensures I will be." I force a smile that probably looks as fake as it feels. "I ended things with him, remember? He's allowed to talk to other girls. He's allowed to move on."
"I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d come. He never comes to this house. I think he has issues with one of the guys.”
“Clearly, he’s not fighting with anyone now. Come on. I need a refill. He’s not mine to worry about. He can mess around with anyone he wants to.”
"You broke up with him because you love him. Not because you stopped caring."
"I know that."
"Then stop looking at him."
We go into the kitchen and refill our glasses. We meander around while taking a wide berth around them.
He's still talking to her. She's still touching his arm. Now she's laughing again, throwing her head back in that way that's supposed to look spontaneous but is absolutely calculated. I've done it myself. I know the game.
It’s all about getting their eyes on your throat and boobs.
Classic move.
The room is getting warmer, or maybe that's just the alcohol working its way through my system. “Pink Pony Club” comes on, and everyone starts singing way too loudly. The Pony Prance ensues, and I absolutely want to scream.
"I need air," I say.
"I'll come with you."
"No, I'm fine. Really. Just stay here. I'll be right back."
Before she can argue, I push through the crowd toward the back of the house. There has to be a door somewhere. A porch. A yard. Anywhere that's not here.
I'm halfway to what I hope is the kitchen when someone slides into the spot beside me.
"You look like you could use a distraction."
I turn. The guy is tall, maybe six feet, with sandy blond hair and green eyes. He's attractive with good bone structure. Nice smile and the kind of face that probably gets him a lot of attention. He's holding two beers and offering me one.
I don’t recognize him as a hockey player, which makes him an option right away.
The beer still has the cap on. Safe.
"I have a drink," I say, holding up my nearly empty cup.
"That tastes like paint thinner."
"It does."
"So take the beer." He pushes it toward me. "I'm Connor. You're Sutton Webb, right? Hockey player?"
I take the beer because my cup really is almost empty and because he's right, it does taste like paint thinner. "That's me."
"I've seen you play. You're good." He leans against the wall, casual and confident. "Are you here celebrating with everyone else?"
"Something like that."
"You don't sound very celebratory."
I take a drink of the beer. It's cold and significantly better than whatever was in that cup. "Long week."
"I get that." He's checking me out. Flirting. That’s good. That’s what I need.
“I was just going to find some air,” I say.
“It’s like five degrees outside.”
True.
He smiles. “I think what you mean to say is you’re trying to get away from your ex.”
I groan.
He laughs. “It’s cool. Come on. There’s a pool room. Warm.”
I let him lead me down the hall.
The pool room is quieter. Two guys are playing pool at one table. Another older table is on the other side of the room. A couple is making out in the corner. A couple of other guys are watching the pool game. The music is not nearly as loud back here.
I can hear myself think, which might not be a good thing.
Connor nods at the guys playing pool. They nod back.
"Friends of yours?" I ask.
"Teammates. I'm on the lacrosse team." He grabs two pool cues from the rack on the wall and hands me one. "You play?"
"Not well."
"Perfect. I hate losing to girls. It ruins my fragile ego."
I almost smile. "Your ego seems pretty intact to me."
"It's all an illusion." He starts racking the balls. "I'm secretly very sensitive."
"Sure you are."
He grins at me. It’s easy. I don’t get creepy vibes. This is good. This helps. I don’t have to stand there and watch Declan flirt and be fondled.
I take another drink of the beer. The alcohol is working, making everything softer. I can still feel Declan's presence, but it's duller now. Manageable.
Connor finishes setting up and gestures to the table. "You break."
I lean over the table, lining up my shot. I'm aware of Connor watching me. I'm aware that my jeans are tight and my top is low-cut. I'm using this moment exactly the way that girl in the living room was using hers with Declan.
The cue ball cracks against the balls, sending them scattering across the table. Two solids drop into pockets.
"I thought you said you weren't good," Connor says.
"I said not well. There's a difference."
"Hustler."
"You offered to play." I laugh before taking another drink.
I move around the table, lining up my next shot. I miss. Connor steps up, leaning close as he passes me, close enough that I catch his cologne. Something woodsy. Very outdoorsy.
He sinks three stripes before missing.
"So," he says as I'm lining up my next shot. "What's the story with the ex?"
"No story."
"There's always a story."
I take the shot. Miss again. "We wanted different things."
"That's the diplomatic version."
"It's the true version."
He moves closer, leaning against the table beside me instead of taking his turn. "You know what I think?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."
“I think you're hoping that if you flirt with me long enough, maybe it'll hurt less."
“I guess we’ll find out.”