Page 12 of Home Game

“Yeah, but I heard he’s a cheater. Didn’t you pull some strings to avoid transfer rules or something?” Lexi seems to know a surprising amount about transfer protocol. A quick glance inside their car reveals why. A blue and gold cheer bow hangs from the rearview mirror.Of course they’re cheerleaders.

“We submitted my transfer request the same way anyone else would.” I shrug but don’t offer more. I know I got special consideration due to my circumstances, but I’m not in the mood to talk about our tight finances now that my mom’s a widow. Not with them, anyhow.

“You all headed to a party or something?” I glance down and to the left, noting the gold heels Tasha is wearing with her white shorts and black tank top. They’re all hot. I’ve counted at least half a dozen guys ogling them as they wandered from their vehicles into the gas station while we’ve been out here chatting. But there’s something about Peyton that has an extra pull on me. She’s curvier, and she seems kind of free-spirited. Her makeup is done up the same as the other girls, but her hair is down in wild waves, and she seems perfectly fine standing barefoot in a parking lot while her canvas shoes dangle from her fingers. Her nails are painted blue with yellow tips, probably for her school’s first day and spirit week. The cheerleaders did that at my old school, too. Kiera, the girl I dated my junior year, always painted my number on her thumbnails. It was sweet, even though Kiera wasn’t. She moved on quick when the season ended.

“We’re heading back to the resort to spend some quality time in the hot tub. Too bad you can’t come with,” Lexi says, winking. She slips into the passenger seat, and I turn my attention to my other side, where Peyton is tightening the gas cap, her shoes now tied at the laces and slung over her shoulder. She doesn’t seem bothered at all that dirt is getting on the white sleeves of her dress.

“Resort, huh? Sounds fancy.” My tone is purposely acidic, but when her brown eyes zip to mine, I’m hit with a twinge of guilt.

Her lips part, and I think she’s about to speak, but then they snap shut. She dismisses me with an eye roll and opens the back door.

Fifteen minutes ago, all I wanted to do was get home and flop into my bed while I played my dad’s favorite songs on my phone. But now, fuck it. I’m up for a dip.

“I could go for some hot tubbing. I’ve got shorts in the truck,” I say, my head ticking toward my ride just a hint.

Peyton’s eyes flash wide, but only for a blip. She bites the tip of her tongue, a faint smirk teasing one side of her mouth.

“You coming?” Lexi says from inside the car. She’s leaned into the back seat, over the console.

“Depends,” I say, still holding Peyton’s stare. “Am I invited?”

Lexi says yes right away, but that’s not the invitation I’m interested in. And Peyton isn’t so keen on letting me off the hook. She shifts her head, her gaze glued to me, even as it turns into side-eyes.

“Sure. You can come . . . if you want,” she finally relents, her lashes batting once in slow motion before she slips into the back seat and closes the door with enough muscle for it toalmostcount as a slam. I feel drunk from her final glance, the mental picture of her tongue grazing her bottom lip right before she spoke. That was so intentional. And so effective. I’m not sure the shorts in my cab are going to be thick enough to hold down my reaction to Peyton, especially in a swim top.

“We’re at Canyon West. Say room one-eleven, and the last name Malone,” Tasha says through the open driver’s window.

I nod as I punch the hotel name into my phone for directions. I was pretty sure I recognized it by the name, but the directions that guide me halfway up one of the nearby mountains clinches it.

When the guys at the gate get a look at my truck, they’re going to think I’m there to clean the pool. But that’s not what’s taking up the real estate in my head right now.

You can come . . . if you want to.

Fucking hell. I just might.

Chapter Five

“Idon’t know when bad-girl Peyton showed up, but I like her.” Tasha pats my ass cheek, which this bikini does not cover enough of, as she passes me in our hotel room. I wish I brought a one-piece like Lexi’s. Well, notexactlylike Lexi’s. The open cut down to her navel would definitely be a problem formy girls.

“I am not a bad girl. And please don’t make this into, I don’t know,a thing.” I pull the thin strip of white cloth out of my ass as if somehow that’s going to make these bottoms seem modest. I snag my cotton shorts from the bed and slip them on.

“If this isn’t a thing, then why are you covering up,hmm?” Lexi teases as she clips her hair up on top of her head.

“I just don’t want Wyatt getting any ideas.” My lie doesn’t even fool me, but my friends do a decent job of holding in their snickers.

“Well then, here, take this with you,” Tasha says, snatching the heavy terrycloth robe from the hook by the bathroom and tossing it at me. It’s heavy and embroidered with the hotel logo. I hold it out with stretched arms and twist my lips.

“I don’t want him making fun of me, either, so thanks, but no thanks.” I toss the thick robe on my bed.

“Mr. No Big Thing has been sitting down there in the hot tub for the last thirty minutes. If we drag this out any longer, maybe he’ll just go home,” Tasha says as she grabs the door handle and tugs our room door open. She shoots me a daring gaze, one eye squinting a little more than the other. It’s how she calls me on my bullshit. When we were kids, she got me to leap off the roof into the pool with that look. I bruised my heel on the pool floor. Tasha’s peer pressure track record isn’t great.

“Fine, I guess I’m ready to go,” I huff, grabbing my phone and my room keycard so I have a way out if I need one.

Usually, the resort pools are pulsing with music on summer weekends, but college classes started a week ago, which means most of the summer staff and clientele are gone. Left in the wake are high schoolers like us and older couples on getaways. As we approach the hot tub nestled on the far side of the pool deck, Wyatt comes into view, along with an older couple who seem to be really settled in.

“Ugh, I hate sharing,” Lexi protests.

Tasha nudges her with her hip as we approach the empty lounge chairs near the hot tub. Lexi has a habit of saying rude things out loud and within earshot. Thankfully, the couple in the hot tub seems to be too rapt by their conversation with Wyatt to have heard my friend. Wyatt, however, isn’t. His attention shifts mid-sentence, and the smile on his face that likely matched whatever topic he was discussing with his new friends morphs into a flirtatious smirk that tugs up the right side of his upper lip.

---