Page 21 of Lucky Strike

“Hey.” I waved, a nervous habit I couldn’t seem to break tonight.

“What’s up?” Cameron gave me a friendly smile. “Is this your first year?”

I nodded.

Sawyer looked me up and down with marked interest, all traces of giggles gone. “Bria, huh? Where’ve you been hiding?”

“Okaaay.” Maeve snorted, pulling me away. “Come on, let’s see if Mom needs any help. She’s probably working herself into a frenzy, trying to get dinner on the table.”

Sure enough, Sloane was at the kitchen island, trying to slice a ham. Trying, because Tristan and another boy in a hoodie had their arms wrapped around her as they dropped kisses onto her cheeks. “Will you two behave? I’m holding a knife!” she shrieked, laughing in the onslaught of affection.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Tweedledee and Tweedledummer,” Maeve said loudly, folding her arms.

Tristan stuck his tongue out at Maeve. The other boy gave hismother one last smooch before sauntering over to hug Maeve. “Aww, don’t be a hater, Mae-Mae.”

“No one’s hating, Conlan,” she said, letting go with a long-suffering sigh. “Mom was pretty stressed out, though.”

He ignored her, his gaze drifting over to me. “Bria. The roommate.”

My heart skipped a beat. Conlan was tall and broad-shouldered beneath his faded black hoodie, which smelled faintly of weed and cologne. Thick brows slashed over his gray eyes, a striking shade—stone, maybe, or slate. He was really, really cute.

“Hey.” I nodded stupidly, unable to stop staring. He looked familiar. Sounded familiar.

He lifted his chin, his pouty, pink lips curving into a smug, knowing smile. I shifted, déjà vu settling over me like an itchy blanket. “Welcome to the circus.”

“You, too,” I said, wincing inwardly when he laughed softly. “I mean … thanks.”

Maeve chattered on, but I was distracted by the fact her brother lookeda lotlike the guy from the Sweet Sixteen. That would be just crazy, though, right? It had been dark on the yacht, and lots of Sterling boys were cocky and hot, and besides that guy’s name was Lucky. Tristan whispered something in Conlan’s ear, and they slipped out of the kitchen, heads ducked together.

Dinner was served on a table the length of a football field. After Owen said grace and thanked everyone for coming, we began to eat, passing food around from the dishes in the middle of the table. Maeve and I sat at one end with the teenagers, still sneaking prosecco. Conlan was right across from us, his raven-black hair coming into view as he pushed his hood off. His curls were looser than Maeve’s, cut in a tapered fade on the sides and longer on top. He had a tiny diamond in one ear and a cross hung around his neck. I watched furtively as he spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate, chuckling at something his cousin said. The more I looked at him, the harder it became to convince myself it wasn’t him.

But he hadn’t acknowledged me, so either it wasn’t him or it was, and he didn’t remember.

Sawyer sat right beside me, chatting my ear off about Sterling’s hockey team and how great a goalie he was. “We have a big game comingup, against Kingsley,” he said, cramming a hunk of buttered bread into his mouth. “You should come with Maeve.”

“She doesn’t want to come to your games, Sawyer,” Conlan said, sitting back in his chair. He hadn’t looked our way once, but maybe he was paying better attention than I thought. “She’s just trying to eat her dinner.”

The other boys burst into laughter, ribbing Sawyer, and Maeve giggled, poking my thigh. I wiped my mouth to hide my smile, warmth stealing over my cheeks.

“Shut up, Lucky, mind ya business,” Sawyer said, laughing along with the rest of them. “You just don’t want her seeing what a shitty center you are.”

My eyes shot to Conlan.Lucky.

After dinner,Maeve and I pilfered a plate of cookies to go with our wine and hid away in her bedroom. The boys had gone down to the game room, Conlan trailing behind them, his eyes colliding briefly with mine before disappearing. Conlan, who—impossibly—was Lucky from Maeve’s party. His eyes had looked green and even silver that night, but they were gray.

I’d thought about him a lot since that night, but with the busyness of classes and the fact we went to different schools, finding him just wasn’t practical. All I knew about him was that he was a brazen boy who liked to kiss random girls. Maeve, Portia, and Delphine never would have let me hear the end of it. Now that I knew who he was, I was even more relieved that I’d never mentioned him to Maeve. She’d become my best friend, one of the best I’d ever had. I didn’t want to ruin that because I had a thing for her older brother who was a player anyway.

By midnight, we were ready for bed. Most of the dinner guests were gone, and those that remained were with Sloane and Owen on the patio, drinking around the fire pit. “The Inner Circle,” Maeve said, pointing through the living room window. “That’s Aunt Vicki and Uncle Keegan, Finn’s parents. And those are the Brennans—Con’s godparents. The Harkins are mine, and the Quigleys are Tristan’s.”

“The Inner Circle, huh? They must be thick as thieves.” I watched the firelight play across their faces as they listened to Sloane. She was telling a story, her face lit up, her hands moving.

Maeve blew out a soft breath, turning from the window. “You don’t know the half of it.”

In the morning,Sloane took Maeve and me to a café in town for coffee and fresh pain au chocolat. Sloane ordered lots of extra to take home, “to feed the hungry beasts.”

Back at the house, Maeve and I watched movies in the den with Keeva and Tate until the boys joined us around noon. “What’re you watching?” Conlan nudged Tate aside so he could plop onto the couch beside me, his arm stretched across the back. He had on sweatpants and a different hoodie than before, his curly hair an adorable mess. “I want to put on the game.”

“Football? No.” Maeve swept her hand dismissively. “You can do that in your room. We’re having a movie marathon.”

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