Page 17 of All Your Pucking Secrets

He might say it is, but I know better. He’s playing games, and once again, I don’t know the rules. What I do know is that I’m returning the pendant next time I see him. There’s no way I’m holding onto it. Not when I don’t understand what he wants from me or what the consequences of keeping it might be.

Hayden’s partner Rock—real first name unknown—misses his shot. The ball bounces off the end of the table and I chase it, bending clumsily to retrieve it from the manicured lawn and apologizing when I bump into a blonde in a minidress.

We’re out in front of the Kappa Delta Psi sorority house for one of their famous Kickoff parties. No, it’s not anything sports-related, just an excuse to start the year with a lot of alcohol and indiscriminate hookups. I don’t usually go, but Anita caught me at a weak moment.

I take my turn, unsurprised when I miss again. I’m terrible at this game. Anita is the pro.

“It’s a shooting star. Did I tell you that?” My voice slurs, but no matter how carefully I try to enunciate, I can’t seem to help it. “He used to call me his shooting star because he said I was the light in his darkness.”

Anita’s plum-red lips press together and her expression melts. “Aww, that’s so sweet. He definitely wants you.”

“Well, too bad.”

Hayden sinks the ball again, and again, I have to drink.

“Why?” she asks. “Was whatever he did really so horrible?”

Emotion wells inside me, climbing up my throat and threatening to choke me. For a moment, I can hardly breathe.

“He stopped my sparkle,” I tell her. “He pulled me into the dark with him, and now I’m a black hole. Everything sucks and there’s no light to be seen.”

Her eyebrows arch. “Morbid much?”

“Echo, with the greatest respect, could you stop talking about your dating life and play properly?” Hayden calls across the table.

Anita and I both glare at him, but he just shrugs in response.

“Fine,” I huff, and pass the ball to Anita. She misses. We continue back and forth for another few minutes. I drink once more, and somehow manage to sink a ball so Rock has to drink, too.

When he sets the cup down, he surprises me by looking straight at me and saying, “If a guy gives you a gift, he’s into you, even if all he wants is sex.”

“Huh.” The word pops out of me before my brain connects to my mouth. Rock is a quiet person. Stoic, too. I’d never have guessed he was paying attention to our conversation.

We finish the game without further discussion of Tyler. We lose soundly, despite Anita’s best efforts. When we make way for the next team, Anita wraps her arm around me to steady me.

“Should we get you some water?” she asks, her forehead wrinkling with concern.

“Probably,” I admit. My vision is blurry, and my bloated stomach is screaming for relief.

“So, tell me more about your ex,” she says as we wind between groups of people, making our way across the lawn and past the Roman-style pillars at the sorority’s entrance.

“There isn’t much to tell.” It’s a lie. I’ve seen more of who Tyler Kinsey really is than anyone else. Or at least, I thought I had until he tore the rug out from beneath me.

She snorts. “Liar. What’s his name?”

I zip my lips. I don’t want to tell her when she and Cassie have already gossiped about how hot the hockey-playing transfer student is. If she knows it’s him, she’ll keep digging until I give her at least some of the juicy details. Unlike Cassie, whose favorite topic is herself, Anita loves knowing everything there is to know about everyone else.

“Nope. I won’t tell you.” I raise my chin to demonstrate my determination, but the effect is lost when I stumble, and she has to catch me.

“Come on. We’re nearly there.” She leads me into the kitchen, where a couple of guys are standing beside the fridge, drinking beer from the bottle.

She finds a clean glass in the cupboards, then fills it from the tap and offers it to me. I sip from it as she steps around the guys and selects a red vodka drink from the fridge. She cracks the top and slings her arm around me again.

We walk down the pink-and-white hallway to the living room, which is crowded and overly warm despite the open window.

“Just give me a name,” she pleads, guiding me to a spot by the wall near the door.

I send her a look of disbelief.

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