Page 35 of Endgame

“Knight, Wren, get together for a pic,” Lila demanded as she snapped a few photos with her phone. Then she had Knight hold the phone to get a selfie of the three of them. Then Wren took a photo of Lila and Knight, and then he snapped one of just her and Wren. Once she got her phone back, she surreptitiously sent Knight the images of him and Wren, and he mouthed a thank you as soon as they pinged on his phone.

“So picture happy tonight, my friend,” Wren teased knowingly.

“Just trying to document all the fun times, and leave the bad ones behind.” Lila lifted a shoulder.

“Well let’s get to it, then.”

Soon, Julia and some of her former roommates made their way over, as did Dani and Vicky, and they all made a circle that they took turns dancing inside. Soon, though, Julia drifted over to Nate, and Knight had managed to wrangle a dance with Wren. A dance that became several dances and then a trip to “grab water” that they still hadn’t returned from. Lila had done an inner happy dance when she saw Knight place a hand on the small of Wren’s back as they made their way inside his house.

Tired from dancing, she drifted to the edge of the designated dance floor, in search of bottled water.

“Alexander!” Jason’s boisterous voice rose above the volume of the music. He was standing on his porch with James.

Lila waved and made her way over to them. “Water?” She mimicked taking a drink. James hooked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing inside the house. She shook off the feeling of awkwardness that was radiating in the air, wishing she’d instead gone in the direction of Knight’s house. Too late now. Weird that she’d been there just yesterday, but she pushed that thought away as quickly as it came.

Lila scanned the packed room and finally laid her eyes on the water bottles. “Victory,” she mumbled to herself as she walked over to grab one. It wasn’t until after she’d taken a long drink that she felt eyes on her, boring holes in her back.

Don’t look, Lila. Don’t. Look.

She looked.

King was sitting on the couch, his arms draped over the tops of the cushions. An unidentified pastel-haired girl was straddling his lap, and… Was she nuzzling him? With her nose? It’d be a weird sight under normal circumstances, but Lila wasn’t thinking rationally. No, she was super jealous. So jealous it was infuriating. His eyes read onyx in the dim lighting, his left blackened by Knight’s fist, which gave Lila a modicum of satisfaction, even though it was petty. And because the fates hated Lila, apparently, King’s intense, glittering eyes were focused entirely on her.

Fuck. That. Shit. She was so done with allowing this guy to mess with her head.

Lila’s brow arched as she allowed herself to absorb the entire scene. Hate slithered slowly into her veins, decaying all the love she had felt for him, and somehow it made the whole situation easier. After all, weren’t love and hate just two sides of the same toxic coin?

Pastel girl was now making a big show of dry humping one of King’s legs, and Lila tipped her bottle to him in silent cheers. His eyes narrowed slightly, his face a mask except for the almost imperceptible tensing of his jaw.

Gratefully, her phone chimed, and she turned away from the ridiculousness she’d just witnessed to check it. She placed her capped water bottle between her legs (because there was no way in hell she’d ever put her drink down at a college party, even one thrown by her friends) as she pulled her phone out.

WREN: I’m officially calling in my one AOC of the year. Are you okay, or is there a McConnell situation?

Lila’s eyes widened as she took in the text. “AOC” was the code they reserved for an instance where they could ditch the other for the night, no questions asked, unless the ditchee declared it a McConnell situation, which meant they were in an unsafe situation in which to be left. The handful of times this had been invoked, there had been no problems, and Lila was determined there wouldn’t be any on this night, either.

LILA: I’m so proud of you. Hell, I have no doubt AOC would be proud of you. No McConnells in sight, so you are a go.

WREN: Text me when you get home. *heart*

LILA: Obvi. *heart*

LILA: Remember: safe sex is the best sex. There are Magnums in your glove compartment. *eggplant* You’re welcome.

WREN: *eyeballs* *flushed face*

She smiled down at her phone before tucking it back into her bag and retrieving her water. As Lila bent down, the slits she’d cut a few inches up the sides of her shirt/dress displayed the long line of her right leg, and she noticed a random guy checking her out. Lila caught his eyes and shook her head emphatically, motioning for him to stay put.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the hint and approached her anyway. Before he could even open his mouth, she said, “Please turn around. I’m not interested. Nor am I in the mood to be ogled. Thanks.”

“Bitch,” he muttered. Before she could respond, she heard a crash, a high-pitched “Hey!” and then the interloper was wrested away from her and thrown against the side of the couch. In Lila’s periphery, she could see pastel girl gingerly rising from a spot on the floor, one of her hands rubbing her ass. Then it hit her. King fucking Spencer.

“Get the fuck out of here,” King growled at the ogler. His black shark eyes and grim expression apparently terrified the guy, and he couldn’t run out of the house fast enough. Which was probably the smartest thing he’d done in his whole life.

Lila huffed out a sound of frustration. Part of her wanted to believe that his over-the-top actions were because he was jealous, but she knew better and hated that her mind even wanted to go there. She snapped her eyes up to King, prepared for battle. “I had it handled. But thanks for that fine display of toxic masculinity. It’d been at least fifteen minutes since I’d last seen one.”

She tried to maneuver around him, but he reached a hand out, and his fingers kissed her abdomen as he tried to stop her. She jumped back as if burned. Physical contact was the last thing she needed right now. “Don’t touch me, King.”

He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. And he sure as shit didn’t look sorry. “Maybe next time you should consider wearing something other than a shirt that barely covers your ass and you won’t have any problems.”

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