Page 55 of Trapped and Tackled

He points between Keller and me, his mouth dropping open.

“Are you going to fuck him, Len? I fucking knew it. All these years, you being a stuck-up, snotty, un-fucking-touchable tease. And now you’re gonna give it up to Keller?” He stumbles forward, reaching out a hand to grasp the doorjamb. Anger rolls off his shoulders as he pierces me with dark eyes. “Why not me? I’d make it fucking good for?—”

Disgust rolls through me as I stare at him, shocked. My body begins to shake as I process his words.

Un-fucking-touchable tease.

Is that why he’s hated me all these years?

Did he ever think something would happen between us? He’s my best friend’s boyfriend!

I shudder from his words, from the mental picture he painted. From his warped perspective. And then, I realize that he still hasn’t noticed Marlowe sitting beside me.

She sucks in a breath and my heart breaks for her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Keller says, stepping to Toby.

Behind Toby, I spot a petite blonde. She gasps, ducks her head, and turns away. And the situation worsens.

“Huh?” Toby turns around. “Megan! Wait.” He clenches the doorjamb harder as he sways. “We can kick them out. I still call dibs on the bed!”

“Your girlfriend’s in there!” Megan hisses, sounding horrified.

Understanding hits me square in the chest and nausea churns in my stomach. Toby was about to hook up with Megan, at Marlowe’s birthday party, in his parents’ lake house.

“Marlowe?” He narrows his eyes. “She’ll understand. She’s so fucking accommodating. Who better than me can she date in our town? No one!” He chuckles to himself.

Marlowe slumps even lower, defeat kicking her down, as my anger swirls. What is wrong with Toby?

He looks too drunk to comprehend what’s happening. Instead of apologizing to Marlowe, he glowers at Keller. At me.

“Why’re you being such a fucking cockblock?” Toby slurs.

Fury rolls over Keller’s expression. His eyes narrow and his mouth twists. “Get the fuck out of here, Toby, before I put you to the fucking ground.”

Toby shakes his head, confusion rippling across his face. He spots Marlowe and his eyes widen. “Why’re you crying, Mar? I threw you a fucking party. What more do’ya want?”

“Stop talking, Toby,” I warn, feeling Marlowe go still beside me. I reach for Marlowe’s hand, but her fingers are cold, rigid, in mine. I have no clue how she’s processing these bombshells that keep landing in her lap, exploding in her face, and I think she’s just starting to shut down.

Toby sneers. “Oh, shit. Leni, you’re gonna tell me what to do? Finally back, gracing us with your presence. Why don’t you give me whatever you’re giving Keller. Or that fucking football player.” He grabs his junk obnoxiously.

“That’s enough.” Keller steps closer, angling his body between Toby and Marlowe and me.

I stand and try to pull Marlowe up beside me, but my friend doesn’t move. She doesn’t even look up. Her lips mouth silent words and her face is blank, an expressionless mask I hate.

“Fuck you,” Toby breathes out heavily. He cocks back his arm, his hand curled into a fist. As he moves forward, he shifts his weight, and throws off his balance. Stumbling forward, his fist comes for me like a freight train.

I throw my hands up, turning my face away, and cower over Marlowe, bracing for the blow that never comes.

Instead, there’s a scuffle. Movement of shoes. A cacophony of swear words. And when I raise my head again, Talon’s presence eats up the space. His expression is dark and unreadable.

His biceps bunch and the strong planes of his back seem to expand as he hunches over Toby. One hand is wrapped around Toby’s throat and his knee is planted in the center of Toby’s chest.

His voice is deadly quiet. Even and measured and ice-cold.

Not losing his cool but looking like he could snap at any second.

Toby’s face is bright red, his eyes wide. He taps the floor with one hand, but Talon continues to talk. Toby smacks the floor again, more frantic this time, and I start to worry that he can’t breathe.

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