3. Cecelia
THREE
CECELIA
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” Vega is chanting it over and over again, her hands flapping ineffectively around the guy’s now dripping face and soaked shirt. “I didn’t mean to do that!”
The guy appears to be in shock, staring down at the big, hot pink splotch on his formerly white shirt like he isn’t sure how it got there.
“So sorry,” she says again. “So, so—”
“Vega, chill,” I bark and she immediately quiets.
Cade and Jason Miller, a guy I’ve been friendly with since freshman year, are dragging asshole Travis away, even as he moans and whimpers, clutching his nuts.
I don’t even get the chance to enjoy his agony because I’m too busy staring at the very tall guy who just got caught in the crossfire.
The very tall, dark-haired, glasses-wearing, insanely hot guy. Who my drunk cousin just poured party punch all over.
Violet re-appears at my side, clutching a handful of paper towels. She hands them over to the dripping guy, an apologetic look on her face.
“I’m sorry you were in the middle of my drama,” she says as he takes off his glasses and wipes them with the clean edge of his shirt. “And thank you for standing up to him like that.” She absently rubs at her arm and rage clouds my vision again.
“He hurt you?” I grab her arm, seeing the obvious red marks from his fingers. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”
“You already kneed him in the nuts,” Vega points out.
My eyes scan the room for where Jason and Cade might have dragged Travis. “That was because he was talking shit about Uncle Daltrey,” I snap. “Before I knew he touched her.”
Violet puts a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. “Stand down, killer. I’m fine.” She turns back to the guy, who’s now dabbing at his face. It occurs to me that he hasn’t said a single word since I came over here. “I really am sorry.”
He doesn’t assure her it’s okay. Doesn’t laugh about the mess or even comment on asshole Travis. He just stands there, looking down at his shirt. He reminds me of a deer in headlights the way he’s staring, like he literally has no clue what to do next.
Jason reappears at that moment, wincing when he takes in the state of the guy. “Shit, Sol,” he mutters. “Take that off, okay? You can wear my hoodie.”
But the guy winces, jerking back a little, making Jay curse under his breath.
“I have a t-shirt,” a girl’s voice rings out. I look over to see Emery Miller, Jason’s sister, pushing her way through the crowd that has gathered to watch the drama. “Move,” she snaps at a few gawkers. “Get the fuck out of here, show’s over.”
I know Emery just a little. She used to date Jenny, one of my teammates, last season.
Their break-up caused Jenny to have her worst save percentage of her college career during the final stretch of the season, so I can’t say Emery is my favorite person.
Where Jay is a certified party boy, his sister has always struck me as more quiet, more serious.
She’s looking pretty serious right now—and more than a little worried.
“Here,” she says to the punch-covered guy—Sol, I think Jay called him? “There’s a tag,” she says much more softly. “So I turned it inside out for you.”
His nod is jerky, and the worry on her face grows.
Jay is looking pretty worried as well, an emotion I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him before, and I’m starting to wonder what exactly is going on here.
I’m sure getting doused in sticky punch wouldn’t feel great, but the three of them are acting like he’s been injured or something.
But I stop wondering—hell, I’m pretty sure I stop breathing—when the guy pulls the sodden white shirt over his head. Because now he’s standing there shirtless. Right in front of me.
Did I say he was insanely hot? Because that’s an understatement.
He’s tall, with that swimmer’s build I always go crazy for—lean and muscular without being too bulky.
His skin is tanned, like maybe he spends a lot of time outside without a shirt on.
And there’s just the right amount of hair on his chest, and it trails down over his ridiculous abs right to the top of his jeans—
“Your tongue goes inside your mouth, Cecelia,” Violet murmurs in my ear, clearly amused. I snap my jaw closed and glare at her—but only for a second before looking back at the guy, because, hello, shirtless Greek god standing there.
“Shit, it bled all the way through,” Jay mutters, sounding stressed. “Let me get some more towels.”
“No.” It’s the first thing I’ve heard the guy say. His voice is low and a little gravely and I get the sudden image of what it would sound like whispering in my ear.
Get it together, I order myself. He’s just a boy. And I really don’t have time for boys in my life right now.
On the other hand, I think as I watch his bare stomach muscles flex as he lifts the clean shirt over his head, maybe I need to start making time.
I’ve sworn off guys for the last month of summer, wanting to completely focus on pre-season training. But maybe if I’d let off some steam with a willing participant in the recent past, I wouldn’t be imagining myself licking the remaining punch off the guy’s abs.
“Better?” Emery asks, once he has the clean shirt on.
From the way she’s hovering and fussing, anyone would assume she’s interested in him.
And how ridiculous am I, that the thought has jealousy trickling through me?
In the first place, Emery is gay. Secondly, and more importantly, I don’t even know this guy.
You know what his happy trail looks like, a voice in my head reminds me. It sounds suspiciously like Vega’s.
“Fine,” he mutters, but the guy doesn’t look fine.
He keeps pulling the shirt away from his chest and wincing, like it’s hurting him in some way.
His jaw is clenched, his eyes flashing. And one of his hands is making a fist against the side of his leg.
He looks…agitated, I guess would be the best word.
Or pained, maybe. A little pissed off, too.
“Can I do anything to help?” Violet asks, still rubbing her red arm. “I feel responsible.”
Jay’s head snaps over, his eyes widening a little as they dart between me and my cousins. I get the impression he had forgotten we were here. He plasters a smile on his face, but it doesn’t look quite natural.
“Definitely not your fault,” he says. His eyes catch Violet rubbing her arm and his jaw tightens nearly as much as his friend’s. “You okay? We should have gotten involved before he grabbed you.”
“I’m fine. Thank you. It’s Jason, right?”
“You can call me Jay,” he says, smile a little more believable now. “And it’s no problem.”
Vi turns her attention to the other guy, who isn’t looking at anyone, still grimacing down at his shirt. “And thank you as well…” she trails off, like she’s waiting for him to introduce himself. The guy ignores her.
“This is Solomon Barnes,” Jay says, nudging the guy’s shoulder. Solomon jerks away like Jay hit him, his jaw clenching even tighter.
“Thank you, Solomon,” Violet says uncertainly. She’s definitely picking up the same weird vibe that I am.
“He’s a pretty quiet guy.” Jay’s jocular voice sounds false now.
“We need to get out of here,” Emery says, her attention fully on Solomon. I don’t think she’s acknowledged any of us.
“Yeah,” Jay says, gaze darting between his friend and his sister. “We should head out.”
“I could clean your shirt for you?” Violet offers, obviously still feeling guilty.
That pisses me off all over again. What does she have to be guilty about?
This whole thing was asshole Travis’s fault.
And, I concede, maybe my fault a little, for losing my temper and kneeing her ex in the junk.
And Vega’s, for throwing the punch. But definitely not Violet’s.
“It’s fine,” Jay assures her, starting to nudge his friend away from us. Solomon still hasn’t said anything, hasn’t even acknowledged Violet, even though she clearly feels like shit. I’m starting to get annoyed. He doesn’t need to act like a dick, no matter how hot he is.
“Oh no!” Vega cries suddenly, stepping forward.
“I think I got some punch in your hair.” She reaches toward his head, like she’s going to somehow clean it off with her bare hands, but the guy gives a violent jerk away from her.
“No!” he barks, voice loud even over the music. Vega freezes, hand still outstretched.
“Sorry,” she mutters, voice way smaller than it usually is. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”
“No worries, guys,” Jay says in that false jocular voice that is definitely lined with some panic now. “We’re just gonna head out so Sol can get cleaned up.” He nods at me. “See you around, Ceece.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, eyes narrowed on his friend. Solomon has turned away from us without accepting Vega’s apology, without acknowledging Violet or me. He starts to make his way to the door, looking like he can’t get away from us quickly enough, Emery and Jay hurrying behind him.
What an asshole.
“Well,” Violet says, her voice soft. “I suppose this is a new record for us.”
“What do you mean?” Vega asks.
Violet gives me a wan smile. “It only took us, what, a couple days on campus before starting some epic drama?”
I force myself to grin back, to sling an arm over her shoulder, when what I really want to do is follow the jerk who had been so rude to my cousins and demand to know what the hell his problem is.
“I’d hardly call this epic drama,” I say. “I mean, I didn’t even make Travis bleed.”
“You’re really losing your touch, Ceece,” Cade says, reappearing at our side. He’s smirking. “Don’t worry about it, though. I made sure to draw some blood in the name of family honor.”
“Cade!” Violet squeaks. “You didn’t!”
“It’s not my fault the idiot was so drunk he didn’t see my foot when I stuck it out.”
“You tripped him?” I ask and laugh when my cousin nods proudly. “Well done. Difficult to prove it wasn’t an accident.”
He gives me a little bow. “I learned from the best.”
“You’re both nuts,” Violet says, but I can tell she’s fighting a smile. Then she looks around the room and sighs. “Can we go now? I’m really not in a party mood anymore.”
“Sure, Vi,” Cade says, which is pretty big of him, considering that I know he was hoping to hook up tonight. “Let’s head home.”
“Oooh, can we get ice cream?” Vega asks, bouncing in her ridiculously high heels as we start to make our way through the crowded room. “I bet ice cream would cheer you right up, Vi.”
“Fuck ice cream,” Cade says. “What we need is fast food. Greasy, salty, fast food.”
“But I want ice cream,” Vega whines, giving Cade the kind of pout that always gets her dad to do whatever she wants—but rarely works on the rest of us. When he doesn’t cave, she turns back to Vi. “Please, Vi? Don’t you think ice cream is the perfect medicine for a break-up?”
Violet rolls her eyes. “Sure, Vega. I’m sure ice cream will help.” Then she slips her arm through mine as we follow them. “I think you might need something stronger than ice cream,” she murmurs so only I can hear her.
“What are you talking about?”
She grins. “To help you forget about that dude’s abs. I saw the way you were drooling when he took his shirt off.”
“You must be drunker than Vega,” I say haughtily, and she laughs.
“Uh, huh. Sure.”
I don’t bother telling her that it doesn’t matter how much I may or may not have drooled over Solomon Barnes’s mini strip tease. There’s no way I would ever, ever crush on a guy who had been such a jerk to my cousins.
Hot abs or not.