Page 34 of Fair Catch

When I turn back around, I expect to find Kason nearly out the door. But instead, he’s barely two feet from where he was on the bed.

I also catch his eyes quickly darting to the floor while his cheeks turn that rosie color from earlier. Only, this time, it’s not the same kind of blush from embarrassment. It’s more the kind from being caught red-handed doing something he knows he shouldn’t.

The same kind he had when I caught him on the dating app.

The guilty kind.

Oh, this is gonna be too much fun.

“Were you just checking me out?” I ask while I cross my arms in front of me, making sure to flex my biceps that my henley already clings to like glue. “God, Kase, you’re about to go on a date. The last thing you should be doing is eyeing up your roommate like he’s some kind of sex kitten.”

Kason gawks at me, his mouth dropping open as he stumbles over his own tongue for a response. A plethora of half-choked words leave him, all garbled in a way that doesn’t make sense, and I can’t keep a straight face any longer.

I burst out laughing, shaking my head as I hold up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you, dude. Calm down, you look like you’re gonna piss yourself.”

Correction: Now he looks so relieved, it’s possible he already did.

“That wasn’t funny,” he mutters, his face still fifty shades of red.

“I thought it was hilarious,” I tell him with a shrug before dropping my sweats to the ground, revealing my dark gray briefs. He blushes again instantly, this time choosing to turn away from me entirely.

Another laugh leaves me as I pull on a pair of dark jeans, fastening the buckle at my waist. “You really are a nervous little virgin, aren’t you? Can’t even look at a half-naked guy without blushing like a schoolgirl.”

“I’m already regretting my decision to ask you to go,” he mumbles more to himself, his head tipped back to stare at the ceiling. “It’s not too late for you to just stay here, is it?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but it sure is.” I cross the room, grab my belt off my dresser, and slide it in place. “You just invited me to my very first college party, and I’m not passing up the opportunity to pop that cherry.”

That statement snags his attention. “Seriously? So you haven’t been to a college party at all?”

He sounds shocked by this revelation, and I’m not entirely sure why.

“Nope. You seem to forget that I really don’t like people. People are at parties. Therefore, I don’t go to them.”

“Yet, you’re going tonight,” he says, and I don’t miss the accusing tone in his statement.

I do my best to rationalize my decision to accompany Kason when I’d never do it for Quinton in the past. But then again, Q is larger than life and he fit in perfectly fine at parties while he was in college. Whereas Kason is justsoawkward—bless the bumbling fool. Knowing him, he’ll probably embarrass himself by spraying the guy he’s meeting with the keg tap or something equally as ridiculous.

Going to this party as a sort-of chaperone is basically community service.

Looking out for the unsuspecting party-goers.

And yeah, there’s the whole guilt factor that’s also a driving force.

Rather than giving him any insight, I step up behind him to murmur in his ear. “It really just comes down to free entertainment. No need to read more into it than that.”

He turns toward me, a glare on his face that’s only inches away now. “It’s okay to admit you’d miss having me here, Hazey. The world wouldn’t end if you did.”

“Call me that again, and I’ll make damn sure to embarrass the fuck out of you in front of this guy.” I smile, knowing it’s gotta look equally threatening and innocent. “Maybe tell him all about the jock rash cream I found in the bathroom cabinet last week.”

Frowning, he murmurs, “That’s not even true.”

“But he doesn’t know that,” I sing-song before slapping him on the ass and heading for the door. “Now, let’s get it in gear. We’ve got a party to get to.”

“Stop looking so nervous.”

Kason glances over at me with a glare that’s far too stressed to be intimidating. In fact, it’s just fucking pitiful, which checks out considering in the ten minutes we’ve been here, the guy hasn’t stopped looking like he wants to throw up.

“I can’t help it,” he laments, throwing his head back against the wall we’ve been leaning against.“I’m not very good at this.”

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