Page 44 of Don't You Pucking Dare

Victory tastes like cheap beer and power. We travel back to campus and the crowd at Thatcher's parts for us like we're fucking royalty—which, in this world, we are. Hockey kings and Reaper princes, drunk on winning and whatever comes next.

Jack disappears into the crowd the moment we arrive. Smart move. His face is still a reminder of consequences, even if the bruises have faded.

Freshman girls circle like sharks who don't realize they're prey. One particular blonde keeps catching my eye— all legs and desperation to climb the social ladder. Before Lola, she would've been exactly my type. Easy conquest, no complications.

"Brody." Caleb appears with two shots of something that probably strips paint. "Your pick tonight. Thatcher says any girl here is fair game."

The blonde moves closer, clearly hearing every word. She wants to be chosen, to be special. They all do.

I down both shots, letting the burn clear my head. These girls are too eager, too willing. Where's the fun in breaking something that's already bent?

Caleb swigs his drink. "Did you send that footage yet?"

I shake my head. "Not yet. Giving it some time, lining up more shit to hit him right where it hurts."

He snickers. "Can’t let her know you’re thinking about her. I get it. Distance is key."

I nod.

"Seeming eager is a dangerous game with girls like her."

"What?"

He laughs, taking a drink. "That night is at the tip top of her head, dude. I’m telling you." He glances at Jack. "But I’m not so sure she would’ve done for that anyone. You’re the man for the job."

"As long as that stays between us––"

He cackles. "We all saw the look on her face. Why do you think fuckhead over there is keeping his distance, huh? You’re doing it, man. You’re making a name for yourself. Just be careful, dude. It might sign you up to do shit you didn’t sign up for."

I bump his shoulder. "I hate that you’re fucking foreshadowing, man. Shut the fuck up."

He laughs. "They have a special place for the ruthless."

I shake my head. "Are you up for keeping her roommate occupied?"

"What? Jack’s sloppy seconds? I bet that bitch would suck your nuts."

The blonde is making her way over, but I turn my back to her because I’m not done with this conversation. "Not now, but in a few weeks. I’m serious, Caleb."

"You’re gonna have to fucking figure it out without me." He smiles at the blonde. I turn around to her smiling. She watches me.

"What’re you drinking?" I ask.

"Jack," she says.

Caleb laughs. "Fucking ironic."

"What?" she asks, confused.

"Don’t listen to him. I’m Brody." I stick out my hand.

She takes it. "Sloane Fitzpatrick."

"Sloane," I look into her eyes, "let me get you something else to drink."

Caleb introduces himself to her friends and then we walk over to the kitchen.

The party settles into its rhythm. Sloane drapes herself across my lap, laughing at nothing like that'll make me want her more. Caleb's got his own entertainment, some brunette who keeps shooting me looks when she thinks he won't notice. Standard victory party bullshit.

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