Page 78 of End Game

I take the bottle from him without comment and drink. It’s becoming easier now, and I savor the warm sensation of the alcohol flowing through my veins. “It’s kind of awful.”

“Yet you keep drinking it.” He sounds amused.

“My goal tonight was to get trashed,” I admit.

Chuckling, he drinks from the bottle, his gaze stuck on mine. “Same.” He hesitates. “You trying to forget something?”

I blink at him, caught off guard by his question. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “People drink sometimes to forget what’s going on in their lives. Or they’re trying to forget—someone.”

“I’m not trying to forget anyone,” I say, my voice soft.

Nico offers me the bottle, and I take it yet again, drinking from it like he just did. We’re starting to run out, so I guess we should pace ourselves. “Lucky you.”

His comment leaves me confused. “What do you mean by that?”

His expression actually turns bashful, and he slowly shakes his head, averting his gaze. “Never mind.”

“Never mind?” I turn and set the bottle on the nightstand on my side—I’m impressed that he has one on either side of the bed—and face him once again. “You can’t just say never mind after you drop a bomb like that.”

He chuckles. “It wasn’t a bomb.”

“Sort of felt like one.”

“It definitely wasn’t one.” He waves a hand. “It was nothing at all. Hand me the booze.”

“Not until you tell me what you were referring to. Or more likewhoyou were referring to.”

“It was no one.”

I study him for a moment. The way he won’t make eye contact is so telling, though I shouldn’t keep pushing him. I probably don’t want to know who he’s referring to, and besides, it’s none of my business. By pushing him, I’m probably just asking to get my feelings hurt. He’s probably crushing on some new gorgeous girl after I rejected him, and I’m just the annoying roommate he’s stuck with and now getting drunk with.

Because that is definitely happening, at least for me. The getting-drunk part. Yep. YEP. Yeppers.

Wow, that didn’t take long.

“Nico ...” I draw his name out, emphasis on theo.

“Ever ...” He clamps his lips shut. “Do you like being called Ever or do you prefer Everleigh?”

“Ever is fine.” I shrug. I noticed that he shortened it earlier, and I liked it. He’s the only one of my roommates who insists on calling me by my full name most of the time. Even Coop calls me Ever sometimes. “Everleigh is a lot.”

“It’s a pretty name.”

My insides light up at the compliment, and I tell myself to knock it off. “It’s definitely different. That was my mother’s goal.”

“You get along with your mom?”

I wince. “It’s kind of a touchy subject.”

“Oh.” He nods. “Sorry.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, though.” When he frowns, I explain myself. “You never confessed who you’re trying to forget.”

Why do I keep pushing again? Because deep down, I hope he’s talking about ...

Me.

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