Page 4 of Caught Stealing

I like parties just fine, though not when the only person in the room I even know is Kase. Those types of parties end up with me glued to his side while he socializes, and it’s just weird. Not to mention awkward as shit.

This is one of those situations.

Which is why I’m about to tell him I’m bored out of my mind, even more out of my element, and have been ready to get out of here the moment we walked through the door thirty minutes ago. Too bad for me, I don’t get the chance, because a tiny blonde tries to squeeze between me and the random guy to my left…and she completely drenches the side of my thigh with beer in the process.

“Oops! Sorry,” she says, righting her solo cup with a sloppy smile and continuing on her merry way.

Wonderful.

“Yeah,” I shout over to Kason, who doesn’t even notice what happened. “I’m having a great fucking time.”

Not.

Honestly, it’s moments like this when I really hate college.

The days I wish I never came to Leighton have become much more frequent lately. Though it’s got nothing to do with the school or party life or drunken sorority girls spilling beer on me, and everything to do with having too deep of a loyalty to my best friend. To the point where I let him drag me out on a Thursday night when I should be studying.

Or maybe the time I gave up my first choice in school so we could room together here.

But I guess the first step is acknowledging there’s a problem. I just have no idea how tostopputting him first.

“See? Just let loose and have a little fun.”

I roll my eyes, irritation setting deeper in my bones with every passing second we spend here.

“Who are you looking for?” I ask as best I can over the music.

He doesn’t hear me, so I give him a slight elbow jab to the bicep.

“Ow,” he mutters, rubbing the spot and finally looking at me. “What was that for?”

“In case you weren’t aware, you go deaf when your eyes are working overtime.”

All I get for a response is a distracted,oh, yeah,before he goes back to searching for what or whomever he’s waiting for, still entirely oblivious to my annoyance.

I wipe my beer-dampened hand on the dry part of my pants, wishing now more than ever I would’ve stayed back at our apartment. But, unfortunately for me, Kason has noticed the dramatic shift of my demeanor into anti-party mode and is looking to change it.

“There’s beer pong in the backyard,” Kason tells me, still scanning the crowd. “Go call the next game and start having some fun.”

“Kind of need a partner for beer pong,” I mutter under my breath, knowing damn well he won’t hear me. Then again, I could probably shout it in his ear and he’d still be too distracted to know what I said.

Shoving down my frustration, I head out toward the keg and grab a beer. Beer pong and flip cup tournaments are in full swing on the patio, and I watch for a while before deciding to take Kason at his word and mark us down for the next game.

I haven’t been to a party since the finals week rager last May, and I’ll admit—despite being ignored by my best friend—it’s not as bad as I remember. Granted, I’m not drunk or pissed off about losing a game or lonely as fuck after being dumped.

A night spent drunkand desperate to escape reality is a toxic combination: a fact proven in this very house last year when I made the single greatest mistake of my life.

Sleeping with Holden Sykes.

I try pushing the thoughts away, yet being back here makes it nearly impossible. The memories this place holds only amplify the self-loathing and regret as each one comes flooding back, making me sick to my stomach. Even months later, I can’t understand how I thought getting obliterated after a shitty week—just to screw the biggest player on campus—was a good idea.

I am the definition of a cliché.

A cliché only made worse by his refusal to acknowledge my existence when I see himeverywherenow. In class, around campus. At every one of Kason’s games, thanks to them being teammates.

He’s impossible to escape. Like fucking herpes.

So why wouldn’t he be standing next to Kason, chatting away, when I walk back into the house? And looking way too good, to be fair, I might add. Even for a super-douche.

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