Page 73 of Wrath

"I’m not kidding, Mills. You can't tell."

I laugh despite the way my heart is pounding. Hurt and...shame. That I got twisted up by someone like him. "I won't tell, man. Don't worry, I’m not a fucking dick. Your little secret's safe with me."

"It's not my secret,” he says.

"Oh, that’s right. Because you're not gay. It was just a lapse. You just love…to toy with me.” I quirk a brow.

"Next time, bang on the wall."

It takes me a minute to realize what he means. He doesn’t think I should come into his room again. I shut my eyes and feel the rhythm of the Jeep's wheels on the cracked, potholed road. He says nothing for the remaining minutes it takes to reach Brennan’s uncle’s land. When we reach the white, hand-painted sign nailed to a tree, and I say, “This is it. Take the right.”

Ezra drives slowly down the dusty, red-dirt road, its tire lines gleaming faintly pearly in the moonlight. About a fourth of a mile later, there’s another sign—this one a cardboard pizza box nailed to a tree and marked with glow-in-the-dark paint.

PARK THERE. An arrow points ahead, and slightly right.

“There’s a clearing there—just go past this tree with the big limb that hangs down…”

Ezra doesn’t speak at all as he parks on a row with three trucks and an SUV.

As soon as I step out into the muggy air, I point myself away from him. I can’t drive myself, but I can sure as shit avoid his fucking ass. And catch a different ride home.

Six

Ezra

It’s not hard to keep an eye on DG. He’s tall, dark, and handsome in the pale pink Polo. Guys in Fairplay wear a ton of pink shit. Pink and white plaid—very preppy shit here. Though no one else has on pink tonight, so as I stand near the kegs, holding a Solo cup I filled with beer and then replaced with water, it’s easy to watch DG move about the living room and kitchen.

The first time I look, he’s talking to his friend Jenna. Then he’s with Marcel and a guy I don’t know, standing near the fireplace. I’m playing pool with Brennan and a couple other guys. Then Marcel comes to play. DG sits beside an older-looking dude and fucks around on his phone.

He won’t go near his two best friends because they’re here at the pool table with me. As I aim for the solid six ball, I see someone walk up to him. I sink the shot and glance up. It’s Arnie.What the fuck?He’s handing DG a red Solo cup.

I wait a minute and tell Brennan, “I need a smoke. When Josh is finished talking, get him to cover for me?”

“Yeah, man.”

Brennan hasn’t noticed that DG and I aren’t bro buds. Marcel has, so he shoots me a look. I arch a brow at him and head out the cabin’s front door. Greene, one of the running backs, is overseeing the fish situation. He’s standing on the front porch in front of something that looks a little like a grill, but I guess it’s some sort of fryer.

“Dude, is there hot grease in that thing?”

“It’s hot in here.” He nods. “Won’t hurt you.”

I make ayeah rightface at him and start through the trees. I was so distracted earlier when I got out of the Jeep, I left my Marlboros in there.

I don't need the cigarettes, though. Just needed to get Mills away from fucking Arnie. Who names their kidArnie? What kind of college dude comes home on weekends to chase someone younger? Wait—but Arnie might not be chasing DG. Maybe he's just here, being a small-town loser.Shit, I really do need a smoke.

Walking through the woods alone at night, hearing the pine straw crackling under my shoes... It reminds me of other shit. But there's country music drifting through the muggy air, and I can hear the noise of people talking on the big porch that’s tacked onto the back side of the cabin.

I grab my Marlboro Lights, plus my lighter. I think of DG in the car when I climbed in from smoking by the roadside. Telling me I smelled like a fucking ashtray. Goading me. Because he hates that I'm a liar, or because I said the shit with us is over?

I light a cigarette and smoke as much of it as I can before I step into the clearing where Greene is working on the catfish. He motions me over, wanting to show me how the frier works. I try to act interested even as I'm gritting my molars. Then it's back inside to find thatmy plan didn’t work. The pool table has been commandeered by Cara, Landry,and some of their friends; Brennan and DG are nowhere in sight. As soon as the girls see me, Cara waves me over.

"Listen," she says softly, as I search the room for DG. "James is here, and I can tell he's jealous. Landry told him you and me are a thing. Can you play with us and do some flirting?" she asks. The word sounds likeflirtin' in her Deep South accent.

"Sure." I try not to let her hear me sigh. We start a new game. She says, "Pretend I'm a bad shot and you have to help me."

I wink and give her a rakish grin—right at the moment a door at the back of the room opens, and Arnie, Miller, Marcel come through. Marcel's hauling something: a card table.

They start playing cards. The game is loud, and it gets louder as they go. James comes in and joins them, and he's watching Cara and me as I give him the show Cara asked for. DG looks up when I'm standing slightly behind Cara, helping her adjust her pool stick. I can't help brushing my lips over the nape of her neck.

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