Chapter 8 Avalon
eight
Avalon
She stole from me. My own mother.
And to make matters worse, I can’t even defend her. It’s not like I was stupid and left money where she could easily find it. She had to search for it. She tore apart my room to find it.
And now I’m fucked.
I don’t even know how I’ll keep us from getting evicted.
And the only thing I can do to get it back is call the cops.
But that means turning her in and losing the only family I have left.
So, instead, I’m wandering around the neighborhoods by campus, trying to figure out what to do next.
The house was empty when I got home, which wasn’t surprising, but I guess part of me hoped she’d be there to tell me she made a mistake. To say that what she did was wrong.
But she wasn’t there. Just empty beer bottles, a shit ton of condom wrappers, and coke residue spread across the coffee table.
I originally went to a bar down the street from my house, one of my usual places, hoping I’d get lucky.
Unfortunately, tonight, the bar was empty. I tried a bar on campus, which was also empty, and now here I am. Walking around a dark neighborhood in heels, hoping the world tells me what to do next.
“I guess they totally dominated tonight.” The voice comes from behind me, and it doesn’t take long for two girls to pass me. “Declan almost didn’t play, though, which would’ve been a complete letdown.”
“Sarah, you weren’t even at the game. It’s not like you would’ve known if he played.”
“But since he did, now I have an opening line, duh.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and treks down the street. “I’m not going to this party to celebrate their win, Amber; I’m going to this party to get an in. Specifically, an in, into Declan Sanderson’s bed.”
Why is everyone so obsessed with Declan Sanderson? I didn’t even know who he was a couple of hours ago, and now I’ve heard two girls talking about wanting to get with him. But a party doesn’t sound too bad.
And even though I’m the last person who wants to celebrate right now, most parties have food… and sex.
If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get both tonight.
So, I follow them. Hopefully, they just assumed I was already going to the party.
And the second I walk inside, I wonder why I’ve never attended an after-game party.
I mean, the options of men to sleep with are endless.
And there’s a shit ton of food. All I ate today was a mushy banana and a piece of toast that I had to cut the mold off of.
The girls I followed here fit right in. They find a group of people they know before I even have time to take in the environment.
It’s loud, which I guess isn’t abnormal for a party, and a lot is happening.
People are smoking and drinking out back, and another group is playing beer pong in what I assume is usually the dining room.
The largest group resides in the living room since there’s the most space.
I wonder if all these people actually went to the game or if they’re just here for the booze.
“Avalon Stewart.” The deep yet familiar voice fills the quiet kitchen, and when I turn around, I see Jaxon Holmes.
He gives me a panty-dropping smile, and I’d be lying if I said I never thought about hooking up with him.
Honestly, if we didn’t have a class together, I’d bite the bullet, but the thought of seeing him in class a couple times a week makes me physically ill.
Especially if his bedroom skills don’t line up with his verbal game. “Jaxon. We have OCHEM together.”
And then it hits me that I’ve just been staring at him.
“Sorry, I know who you are, Jaxon. I’m just—”
“In need of a beverage?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, maybe a soda?”
“Sure.” He opens up the smallest cooler I’ve ever seen. “Root Beer? Dr. Pepper? Coke?”
“I’ll take a root beer.”
He grabs one and hands it to me.
“Make yourself at home,” he begins. “I know parties can be overwhelming, but have a good time. There’s tons of food if you’re hungry. If you meet someone, just know all bedrooms are off limits, so you gotta take your little party elsewhere.”
I’m honestly kind of taken aback by him so casually bringing up my sex life. Obviously, he didn’t come right out and say if you’re gonna have sex, don’t do it in one of the bedrooms, but I think it was pretty much implied.
“Jax!” A guy yells from across the room. I’ve never seen him before, but he’s wearing a Rockford Hockey hoodie, so I assume he’s on the team with Jaxon.
Next to him are two girls: one is blonde, and the other has dark hair. The blonde’s leaning against the table, laughing at something the taller girl said. I don’t know why, but the blonde looks familiar. Maybe I have a class with her?
“What Fletch?” he asks.
What kind of name is Fletch?
“Beer pong. You and me against Brin and Tate.”
“Alright, I’ll be right over.” His eyes meet mine. “I’ll see you in class.” He gently squeezes my bicep as he heads over to meet Fletch. “We’re starting,” he says. The blonde girl has the ping pong ball in her hand, and Jaxon puts his hand out for her to give it to him.
She clutches it tighter instead of dropping it in his hands and smiles, “Ladies first!”
She barely makes it two steps before his arms are around her waist, pulling her against him to try and get the ball from her. When he almost has it, she chucks it into one of the cups across the table, and it sinks in perfectly.
“Ha, drink up,” she gloats, and he rolls his eyes.
As he heads to the cup, he notices me observing from the kitchen and winks. The blonde girl gleefully watches him down what’s in the cup.
Now I know where I’ve seen her before. I’ve seen her running on campus with Jaxon, so it’s a good thing I didn’t make a move on him.
There’s only one thing more embarrassing than seeing a guy after bad sex, and that’s seeing a guy twice a week in class after he rejected you because he has a girlfriend.
I take this time to grab a piece of pizza from the kitchen and wander through the crowd. Eventually, the couch clears up, and I find my new home there. I feel like it’s the perfect spot to people watch because I can see most of the party from here.
I honestly don’t know why I’m still here. I guess it’s better to be here and forget about my home situation for a little while than to go home and face reality.
But the party kind of blows.
For me, anyway. I don’t know anyone and have no prospects for who I’ll spend my night with.
And to make matters worse, I can’t even get a cab home because I can’t afford it.
I could text Jay and ask him if he could send me some money for a cab or an Uber, but if I do, he’ll ask questions, and if he asks questions, I’ll have to tell him what my mom did and—
“Fuck it,” I whisper, pulling out my phone. How’s it fair that I’m gonna have to walk home because my mom sucks. And maybe I’ll get lucky, and Jay won’t—
“That bored, huh?” I look up from my phone and see a guy towering over me. His dark eyes darting from my phone to my own eyes. His five o’clock shadow perfectly complements his warm, umber skin.
“Do you hockey players own anything other than that hoodie?” I question since it’s the third one I’ve seen tonight. However, it’s the first time I’ve seen someone in the hoodie, and I hoped I’d be the one removing it tonight.
“The hoodie’s not the only piece of clothing I own.” He smirks, pulling the hoodie over his head—
So much for me removing it.
But I can’t even complain because as his hoodie comes off, his shirt comes up, exposing his bare stomach and the tattoos he was covering up. He throws the hoodie on the empty spot next to me on the couch and pulls down his t-shirt.
“I also own this t-shirt,” he continues, and I laugh as I read Rockford Hockey across the t-shirt.
“So, is hockey your whole personality or just a large chunk?” I wonder.
“Hmm, pretty much the whole thing,” he says. “I’d say at least ninety-eight percent.”
He sits beside me and rests against the back of the couch in the same spot where his hoodie lays.
“And the other two percent?”
“Tattoos are part of that two percent… and the other part, I guess you’ll just have to find out.”
“Alright, I’ll bite.”
“Me too, but only if you let me.”
“Ha, does that actually work for you?”
“I don’t know, you tell me dollface.”
It does. It really does, which is absolutely pathetic because how’s a line like that working on me?
And dollface? Are you serious? If anyone else called me that, I’d be running in the opposite direction so fast, but something about him, I don’t know, I’m curious. It’s the eyes… it has to be the eyes.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” He grins.
I was wrong. It’s the smile. The smile’s what does it.
“I’m Zeke.” He puts out his hand, and I shake it.
“Avalon.”
“Well, Avalon,” he begins, “is our celebration so boring that you resorted to scrolling through your phone?”
“I was actually getting ready to get a cab.”
“Oo, it’s worse than I thought. It’s so boring that you’re already leaving, and the party isn’t even in its prime yet.”
“I guess it’s just not for me.”
“What can we do to change that?” he asks, and I don’t miss the way he moves a little closer as he does.
“I don’t know, what’d you have in mind?”
“Why don’t we start with a drink?”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t drink?”
“No.”
“I like that. A girl who doesn’t need a drink to let loose.”
“Maybe I’m just not a girl who lets loose.”
“I don’t buy it.” He leans forward. “We all have something that helps us let loose… escape. From what I can tell, it’s not a party, because if it was, you’d be in the crowd, not watching it. And you don’t drink, so what’s your poison?”
“What’s yours? Booze?”
“Sex.” He stares right at me as he says it. “I like to drink, yes, but the best escape for me is sex.”
I don’t know what it is about this guy, but everything he does and says is sexy. You know those guys who are so confident that they just ooze sexiness? That’s Zeke.