Page 44 of Last Boy

“Thank you.” I wave. “Have a good night.”

“You too, P.”

As he turns and heads toward the exit, it takes every ounce of my control not to chase after him and climb into his truck.

Walker

“Look at you, all dressed up and shit,” Nixon says with a grin when I walk into the dorm. “Hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” I mutter, looking around. “Where’s Elias?”

“No idea. Probably out with that Lainey. Or Lorna. Whatever her name is.”

“Lana,” I say.

He points. “Yep, that’s the one. Dude’s in fucking love with her already.” He holds up the remote to the Xbox. “Whatcha say, James? Up for a game?”

“You know it.” I head toward my room. “I just gotta change real quick.”

After the show ended, I drove around for a while in an attempt to clear my brain. It was useless, of course. So, now, I’m just hoping I can eventually fall asleep and stop thinking about Poppy.

Walking to my dresser, I pull out my gray Wolves sweatpants and my white T-shirt and change out of the stuffy-as-hell clothes I wore to Poppy’s performance. I’m not going to lie. I wish I were hanging out with her right now. I was pretty tempted to find out who she was hanging out with and where and show up there. The thought that she’s out partying right now—maybe around other dudes—well, it pisses me off. But this is also one of the first times she’s gone out and had fun since her brother died, and the last thing I want is to take that away from her. So, I guess it’s video games with Nixon instead.

Just as I finish changing, my phone goes off, and I see Gentry’s name on my screen.

Gent: Where you at, man? I see your better half, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

Me: We aren’t really a thing, I guess. She told me she had plans with the other dancers. I must have missed you dancing up on the stage in tights.

Gent: Trust me, if I were in tights…there’d be no missing it.

I chuckle at the eggplant emoji, shaking my head.

Gent: I’m here with my wife. We’re at Club 83, and I’m telling ya, there are a lot of dudes fixin’ to piss on your property and mark her as theirs.

That has my blood boiling.

Me: What the fuck do you mean? Who is it?

Gent: Question is, who isn’t it? There are a lot of football players, baseball players, and even a few basketball players here tonight. Lot of attention on your little dancer, my friend.

Gent: Oh, and she’s also hammered. So, there’s that.

Me: Be there in ten.

Gent: Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Pulling my Wolves hockey hoodie on, I rush out of my room.

“Sorry, B. I gotta run to Club 83 to check on a friend.”

I yank the door open, and he leaps from the couch and charges behind me.

“Well, guess what. I’m going too.” He stuffs his cell phone into his pocket. “And don’t worry; I’ll find a ride home so you can thoroughly check on this…friend.”

Heading outside, I tread toward my truck. Because the idea of my girl getting drunk with a bunch of horny college dudes around doesn’t sit well with me.

Not one bit.

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