Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
CHANCE
The house is packed, loud music and the cheering of beer pong winners bounce off the walls, tunneling into my ears.
I’m too sober for this shit.
I walk through the kitchen, watching one of the sorority sisters doing a keg stand, her wobbly arms barely holding her up.
I inch around them, trying to get to the tequila on the counter. Not only is my head all fucked up from seeing Thorne and Warren recently, but from the conversation with my dad and grandpa this morning.
Popping the lid of the tequila, I pour a generous amount in a red cup and drink it like it’s water. It stings going down, but soon, it’ll fade and I’ll be fucking drunk off my ass.
Just what I need to forget.
My phone sits heavy in my pocket, the words of my father ringing in my ear.
I fucking hate him.
As I tip the bottle back, the conversation replays in my head. I wish I hadn’t answered the phone at all.
“Chance, son, how are you?” he asked, sounding less interested in my day than he is about the weather.
“Good. School is—”
“Good, good,” Dad interrupted, silencing me. “Listen, your grandfather told me about the trust. I’ve already got my lawyer working on having it redirected through me until you’re twenty-five. There’s no reason for you to be in control of that much money.”
I closed my eyes, wishing my grandfather hadn’t spilled the beans. That was my only lifeline, the only way I could get away from him and his influence.
“Dad,” I started, but he cut me off again.
“No need to thank me. Just sign the paperwork when it comes by courier tomorrow.”
Then he hung up.
There’s no reason for my dad to have any of my money; he has plenty of his own.
What my grandfather gave me is a drop in the bucket of his net worth.
He just wants to have a stronger hold over me, so I’ll do what he tells me to do without question.
Unless I want to just say fuck it and renounce all of his money.
That would have been my next step had I not called my grandfather and told him about the exchange. He simply laughed and told me that the stipulations on my trust were ironclad. No lawyer on the planet would have been able to untangle my name from the funds or take control.
“You forget,” my grandfather said with a laugh, making me feel miles better, “before I got into tech myself, I was a practicing lawyer and I trained the man that set up your trust. There’s no wiggle room in it at all. Rest assured, Chance, that money is, and will remain, yours.”
I’m assured, but I don’t know how my father even knew about the money. Grandfather said he hadn’t talked to my father in years and wouldn’t have told him about my trust. So, my father lied to make his snooping sound more plausible.
Does he have some kind of alert on my account? I didn’t tell anyone. So how?
Grandfather said he’d get to the bottom of it for me and I believe him.
He’s always been in my corner. I think that’s why my dad doesn’t like me.
From what I understand, Grandfather was so busy with work that he didn’t have time to raise my father, and in turn my father didn’t know how to raise me.
But Grandfather tried to make up for his mistakes with me.
I’m not saying it’s right—they probably should have done an intervention or fucking family therapy—but Dad could have tried to do better than his dad when it came to me.
The noise of the party draws me out of my morose thoughts, as well as Priest bumping against my shoulder.
“Want a shot?” he asks, holding up a bottle of tequila.
I hold up my cup so he can dump more inside.
Drinking this much tequila is a bad fucking idea, but I need out of my head for a little while. I gotta get away from my thoughts.
Priest whoops and pats me on the back as I drink more, causing half the contents to spill on the floor. We both laugh as a pledge comes over and quickly wipes up the mess. It’ll be easier on them in the morning when we want this place fucking spotless.
“Come on,” Priest slurs. “Let’s go play some beer pong.”
Beer and tequila will wreak havoc on my stomach in the morning, but right now, it’s a damn good idea.
“Where’s Jett?” I ask as we weave through the crowd.
“Probably working,” Priest sneers then barks a hard laugh.
I give him as steady a look as I can. “Lay off him. He’s cool.”
Priest grunts but says no more as we approach the tables. We stand around, waiting for the next game to finish.
As I look up at our surroundings, I think I see black hair and glinting piercings.
“Thorne?” I say aloud, pressing my cup into Priest’s chest as I head in the direction I thought I saw him.
I push past drunk and dancing people, looking for him, but I come up with nothing.
After circling the room twice, I head back to the beer pong table. I’m stopped before I get there by a guy from a neighboring frat when he bumps into me, spilling his beer down my front.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, using a thin napkin to wipe me up. “Didn’t see you there.”
I give him a look because while I’m not the largest man, I’m pretty tall and not missable.
But I let him get away with it because…well, he’s kind of cute.
Not something I would have thought just a few weeks ago, but whatever happened in that hotel and the tequila has me seeing shit differently, I guess.
“Right,” I say, leaning back against the wall. “You’re Tyson?”
“Guilty,” he says, mirroring my pose. “Everyone knows who you are.”
“Do they?” I quip, hearing the flirty note in my voice, but unable to stop it.
“Mhm. I’d like to get to know you better, but from what I’ve been told…you have a girlfriend?”
I honestly forgot about Felicity. We’ve spoken since she sent me that terrible fucking birthday gift, but I rush her off the phone as often as I can. I still haven’t told her I let a man eat my ass while I deep throated another, but I will soon enough.
Fuck it, I might do it tonight. Liquid courage running through my veins will loosen my tongue so I can finally cut her the fuck off. Yeah, I’ll fucking do that tonight. As soon as I go to my room, I’ll call her and say that it’s fucking over.
“Good plan,” Tyson says, grinning at me. “Any reason why?”
I chuckle behind my hand. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Too much to drink, I guess.” At least he didn’t hear why I’m ready to finally cut her ass off.
“Too much shit,” I say in answer. “So I’ll be single soon.”
“Yeah?” Tyson asks, turning toward me as he sips his drink.
“Yep. So, I can do what I want.”
Taking a bold step toward me, Tyson runs a finger down my chest, dropping his tone. “Well, how about we see what you want to do tonight?”
My stomach roils and a feeling of unease settles over me. Not because of who Tyson is but because of who he isn’t. Had Thorne said that same line to me, I would have folded like fresh laundry. All I feel now is…empty.
But fuck him. He doesn’t want me. Warren doesn’t either. If they did, they would have claimed me by now. So, I can do what I want. I just have to push past this nervousness at trying something new, then I’ll be fine.
Shaking my head to clear it of wayward thoughts, I say, “Yeah. Gimme about twenty minutes to make my phone call, then come see me. Third floor, second room on the left.”
Tyson strokes a finger over my cheek and a chill runs through me, like someone is watching. I look around, but don’t see anyone.
Focusing my attention back on Tyson I nod and say, “Twenty minutes.”
I stumble up the stairs, high-fiving frat brother’s I pass along the way.
When I get to my room, I flop on the bed and fumble with my phone. A text from my father is waiting, but I ignore that bullshit. I don’t have the energy to deal with his shit when I got drunk to forget it.
Instead of dealing with him right now, I struggle through my drunken haze to find Felicity’s contact information.
A voice in the back of my head is telling me this is a terrible idea, that I should wait until I’m sober, but I always bitch out when it comes time.
I won’t let her cut me off this time, won’t let her dominate the conversation.
I’ll end this and move on. Maybe not with Warren and Thorne, but someone who wants me.
Pushing call, I press my phone to my ear, listening to the obnoxious ringing. Why do phones ring? Why all the fucking noise? A beep should be enough. Or like…a tone of some sort. Not this bullshit.
“Hey, baby,” Felicity says in a breathy tone. She lets out a tiny giggle, then whispers something before coming back to me. “Hey. It’s late.”
“Yeah, fuck that noise,” I say. “We’re done Felicity. No more. You’re single now.”
“What?” she screeches, making me pull my phone from my ear. “What are you talking about?”
“Me and you.” I hiccup, lying back on my bed. “We’re over. Hate to break it to you, but I cheated. And had a fan-fucking-tastic time. I mean…the best I’ve ever…ever had.”
“You asshole!” she bellows and I can hear her stomp her foot. “You cheated on me with some bitch there.”
“Okay,” I say, not confirming the gender. “Anyway. Done. Don’t call me anymore.”
“But…but wait, Chance.” That fucking voice she likes to use is back and I almost throw up. “Baby. We can work through this. We were meant to be. I forgive you, okay?”
Growling, I sit up, not wanting to hear her voice anymore.
“I don’t want you to forgive me,” I slur.
“I don’t want shit from you. We. Are. Done.
” Before I hang up, I say, “And that fucking pouty voice you do is fucking annoying. I hate it and every man I know will fucking hate it. Cut that shit out before you irritate the next man.”
Proud of myself, I hang up the phone and toss it away.
God, that felt good. I’ll probably regret it in the morning, but she’s off my back.
Even though my brain is fuzzy from drink, the argument sobered me up enough that I can think. Since my dad wanted us to be together, I’ll hear his bullshit in the morning about how I need to take her back. But fuck him too. I don’t want anything to do with either of them.
In due time, I can cut off everyone from my old life and make my own way.
For right now, I need to fucking relax until Tyson comes up here.
Nerves dance across my skin as I think about what he’ll expect from me. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m sure I’ll disappoint him.
“Fuck,” I groan, pushing off the bed to go downstairs and tell Tyson that we can’t do anything. But the room spins, putting me back on my ass. “Fuck,” I whine again. “Fucking tequila.”
I lie there, waiting for the room to stop being a fucking carousel. Then I’ll tell Tyson that my head is too fucked up. That I want someone else. Or someones else. But for right now, I have to make sure I don’t fucking barf all over my bed.