Page 66 of Our Ruined Beginnings

It confirms what I’ve been telling myself all evening. Harper wants to play tonight, and I’m all too eager to join the game.Bring it on, baby.

Sylvie tugs me closer to the makeshift bar, her eyes glancing over her shoulder as she nudges me to the side, positioning herself in the spot I was just standing. Frowning in confusion, I look over to where she’s focused and see a group of cheerleaders watching us with a mix of expressions. Some jealous, some impressed, some downright pissed off.

NowI get it. Sylvie doesn’t really give a fuck about hanging out with me; she just wants the cheerleaders to know—or think—that she is. I should feel angry, maybe, or annoyed that she’s using me, but I don’t.

She’s in the graduating class this party is for, and the fickle high-school shit definitely doesn’t get much better in college. So, I grab a can of seltzer and crack it for her. When she takes it, I don’t let go, using it to pull her closer and leaning down to murmur in her ear as I pull my cell from my back pocket and slip it into her hand.

“Put your number in my phone. They’ll eat it up.”

She stares at me quizzically for a second, a soft smile playing on her lips. Tilting my head to the watching crowd, I raise a brow, waiting for her to catch on. When she does, she chuckles softly and looks up at me gratefully.

I grab a beer from the selection, pop the cap, and tip a decent amount down my throat as Sylvie hands me back my phone, leaning into my stomach. Like a homing beacon, my eyes zero across the room once more, finding a pair of brown ones narrowed dangerously on me.

And this is exactly why I don’t care Sylvie wants to use me to play her social games… Because I’m about to use her right back.

Harper

“There’s no way Mr. Michaels did that,” Holly, one of my girlfriends, says, through choked laughter.

“I swear! Tequila direct from Mexico does that to him, I guess.”

No, I shouldn’t be telling my friends about the time our Economics teacher made out with and heavily groped a statue at one of my father’s parties, but technically, he’s ourex-teacher now, and I’ve somehow managed to keep it to myself for four whole months. That story was burning a hole in my pocket and deserves to be shared.

“I can’t believe he did it,” Nate says from behind me. I’m startled. His voice holds way too much judgment for someone who expressed zero personality the whole school year, but also, I’d legitimately forgotten he was still here.

The second I dragged him toward the dance floor, I realized my sexy-dance plan was pointless, seeing as we were now out of the view of Madden. Nate had essentially served his purpose. Then, when we bumped into my friends on the way to the dance floor, I got caught up with chatting to them.

“I totally can,” Sammi argues. “I always knew there was a deviant hiding under those bow ties.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and I shudder at the image, even as I laugh with her. “Tequila is potent stuff.”

“Well, thankfully, we don’t have tequila, but I do have a shit ton of this.” Holly holds up her half-drunk bottle of Budweiser. “And you know what that means…”

“Beer pong!” A cheer goes up at the declaration.

“Beer pong?” Madden’s voice is very close behind me, the warmth at my back surely from him. “We’d love to play.”

It feels like the whole crowd from the dance floor moves as one toward the games room, and only Madden’s hand burning a print on my hip keeps me upright. I think he could guide me anywhere and I’d be fine.

He deposits me at one end of the table, where Holly joins me, and makes his way to the other side. I expect the “we” to be him, Caleb, and Evan, but I can’t see either of those two. Instead, the blonde from earlier sidles up to Madden and slings her arm around his waist, sobering me up in seconds. Who the fuck is she?

“Caleb, you’re on my team,” Madden calls, as his brother finally appears through the throng. He salutes with his bottle.

“I’m joining my favorite girl, then,” Evan says from behind me, giving me a conspiratorial grin as he joins me. Good. At least I’ve got one of them on my side.

“Fine, we’ll take Sam. That’s our team complete. You want Billy?” Billy is renowned for being one of the better shooters, so it makes sense, but this isn’t about winning. Well, it is, but not through beer pong. So I shake my head and grab Nate’s hand instead, stepping into his side and winding my arms around him. It feels wrong to even do it, but the way Madden’s eyes zero in on the place we touch has satisfaction zipping around my stomach.Let’s play.

Okay, so he might be winning.

The other teamdefinitelyis, with six of their cups still standing and only two of ours. It feels like Evan hands me another cup every few minutes, so I’m not sure how we haveanyleft, but we do. There’s a cheer as Madden sinks the ping-pong ball into one of the only remaining cups on our side, and a groan from Evan beside me.

“Your turn,” he says dejectedly as he hands me the cup. I don’t even like beer, but when I look up from the foamy liquid to seeSylviewrapped around Madden, whispering what I hope are only congratulations into his ear, I down the whole thing. Nate disappeared minutes into the game, so I can’t even use him for a comeback, and I’m certainly not touching Evan like that.

I pointedly ignore Madden as I take my shot and miss the large number of available cups on their side, then watch as Caleb’s ball sails into the only one left on ours. The crowd erupts, but I’m not feeling the party spirit. The alcohol is hitting me hard and making me feel lightheaded. Combined with the way it’s unreasonably irritating me that Madden is letting her touch him so much, I’m suddenly in a terrible mood.

I push the cup Evan offers me away and toward his mouth instead, turning to leave the table. He grabs my hand to keep me close, though, and leans down to speak in my ear.

“Where are you going?” he slurs, his too-hot breath making me cringe.

“Restroom,” I call, shrugging away from him and pushing through the crowd.

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