Page 67 of End Game

Doing my best to avoid my roommate every time I spot her, which is far too often for my taste.

Speaking of taste, she appears pretty fuckin’ tasty in that gold dress she’s wearing. It’s tight and clings to her curves, showing them off to perfection. There’s this constant smile curling her lips that makes her positively radiant, and I can see it in the way the other guys are watching her, interest glowing in their eyes. They notice her.

And I hate it.

Fuck, I can’t even look at her. I’m not supposed to think about her like that since we kissed in the library and she ran away from me. Hell, by kissing her I already broke our promise after we shook on it, so I guess that’s on me. But I wasn’t the only one participating in that kiss.

She was into it too. She was into me. Until the crotchety old librarian had to walk in and bust up our little secret party of two.

Deep down, I know I can’t hook up with her or fuck her or whatever the hell I was thinking. Talk about a colossal mistake.

But I can’t stop watching her. The way that dress looks on her.

All I can think about is taking it off. Her sprawled across my bed, me lying between her legs. Slowly lifting it, exposing her bit by bit. Kissing and licking every inch of her skin on display ...

My thoughts are fueled by the alcohol I’m consuming—and I’m drinking a lot. Which is something I don’t normally do during football season. None of us guys on the team really do.

But this is the one weekend when we don’t have to worry about hangovers for at least a couple of days. Our coaches will slap us into shape come Monday, but tonight?

I’m drinking until I’m fucked up, and I’m going to have a good time doing it.

Our teammate Jonesie eventually enters the backyard through the side gate, bringing with him at least six beautiful women, all of them with friendly smiles on their faces and looking hot.

“Told you I’d bring some ladies,” he greets me, making me laugh.

I point them in the direction of the keg, where they all go eagerly, and the last woman who walks by me trails her fingers along my stomach as she passes. A tempting smile curves her red lips, and I send her a look, one that saysI’m definitely interested, because fuck it.

I am.

Anything to help me get the pretty brunette in the gold dress off my mind for at least the night.

“You’re such a dog.”

I turn to see Gavin standing there with a Solo cup in his hand and a big ol’ grin on his face. All I can do is shrug at him in return.

“I can’t help it if the ladies love me.”

“So modest.” He takes a drink, scanning the backyard for a moment. “I’m over this.”

“Over what?”

“Partying. Drunk people puking in the yard. Kegs. A girl giving a guy a blow job in the bathroom. All of that is going to happen tonight. It might even be happening right now at this very moment, and I’m tired of it. Aren’t you?”

I study him, surprised by his outburst. At the weariness in his tone. He definitely sounds over it, and I’m surprised. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“I’ve been feeling it for a while. Don’t you think you’re just too old for this scene?”

“I’m twenty-two,” I remind him. “Same age as you.”

And no, I’m not over it. Or tired of it. This is college, and it’s our last year. We’re supposed to party and get shit faced and have fun. Real life is waiting for us on the other side, and I plan on living it up as much as I can before I have to face reality.

“I’m tired, man. Sometimes I feel older than twenty-two. Like I’ve already been through it.” He shakes his head, and I go to him, gripping him by the shoulders.

“The best is yet to come,” I remind him, giving him a shake. “Don’t give up on us now.”

“Trust me, I’m not giving up on us. Don’t worry about that. I’m just—tired of the party scene. Meaningless conversations. Meaningless hookups. I want something real.” He steps away from me, and my hands drop from his shoulders. “You really feel okay with how this season is going?”

“Hell yeah,” I say without hesitation.

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