Page 68 of Beautifully Conflicted

Drinks in hand we make our way to the dining room where a half-dozen games of beer pong are in full swing. Tables have been pushed aside to make room for the party. It’s quieter here since the blaring speakers are in the living room, but you still have to lean close to the person you’re talking to when the ball finds the cup and people cheer.

Some of the participants I recognize from the team, and we make small talk about how my ankle is doing and what I missed at practice the last few days. Turns out the defense has a slight edge over the offense in the whole shoe competition thing. Grinning through a fake smile, I pretend to be stoked about it, even though the only reason I want to win is because I hate losing.

Despite there being no prize for winning but bragging rights and an exceptional hangover, my teammates appear to be just as excited. They whoop, holler, and chug, like they’ve scored the game-winning touchdown. It’s amusing to say the least.

They try to drag me into the game, but I wave them off. If I didn’t have my sights set on an NFL career I might let loose with them, but I can’t afford to take my eyes off the end goal. Not after everything my parents sacrificed to help me get here. Besides, I’d prefer not to ingest any more beer than I have to.

It’s ironic that a poor kid is a bit of a beer snob, but if I’m going to impair my judgement, I’d at least like to enjoy the process.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” Aiden asks after I turn down a third invite. “You can’t be any worse than Cruz.”

I try not to snort since Cruz is, in fact, the worst beer pong player I’ve ever seen. Not only is his aim terrible, but he either overshoots the table or comes up woefully short of the cup. The guy has incredible hands for a receiver, but his wrist is shit. It’s either too stiff or too limp, and it just gets worse the more he has to drink.

“I’m not watching because I suck, I’m watching because workouts suck if you’re dehydrated.”

“You don’t have a workout tomorrow though, do you?”

“No, but my tolerance is pretty low, so it’d take me days to shake a hangover.”

Aiden arches a brow like he’s daring me to object. “You could just admit you don’t like the beer.”

“Fine, I don’t like the beer. But what I said about my tolerance is true.” It’s a little thing, but I’m still grateful I can be honest about it. “How come you aren’t playing?”

“I’m only slightly better than Cruz.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, no. It made pledging awful. Bennet was the only person who’d willingly be on my team, and it’s only because he picked up my slack that I didn’t spend my entire freshman year hungover.”

As if the mention of his name invoked the man himself, my eye catches Bennet’s form across the room.

He’s deep in conversation with a girl that seems to have trouble keeping her hand off his bicep, smiling down at her and laughing at something she says.

My blood heats as a flare of jealousy takes hold, and I end up taking a bigger gulp of my beer than intended, which leads to coughing fit that has several heads turning in my direction, including Bennet’s. When I get myself under control, I realize he’s scowling at me the way he always used to. Aiden sees it too.

“Didn’t you guys agree to make nice or whatever?”

I force my gaze back to Aiden. “We did.”

“Then why did you just look at Bennet like he’s hitting on your girl?”

Oh shit, that’s the look he saw? I’m gonna need to get better at this acting thing real quick. At least he thinks I’m jealous over the girl.

I clear my throat. “Habit?” My eyes dart back to Bennet, or more accurately the girl who’s still touching him, and some of the tension fades when I confirm he isn’t flirting back like he was. Probably because he’s staring daggers at me.

“You better break that habit real quick or all the progress you two made will be for nothing.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try harder.” I sip my drink, looking around the room for other familiar faces to focus on so my face doesn’t give away what I’m really thinking. It takes all of about twenty seconds before my gaze wanders back to Bennet. Which I’d call a win, except for the fact he catches me looking, says something to the girl, and stalks away.

Aiden curses under breath. I can’t hear it, but I recognize the expression since it’s the one on Bennet’s face pretty much every time he sees me. Until this past week anyway.

“I swear I didn’t give him any kind of look. I just accidentally glanced his direction.” I plead my case.

“Why would you do that knowing he was already on edge?”

Pressing my lips together, I lift my shoulders and awkwardly rub the back of my neck. “Have you ever tried so hard not to do something that you do it anyway? Like your parents say don’t swear and you’re just compelled to do it?”

“Jesus, it really is a habit for you two to antagonize each other.”

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