Page 86 of Chokehold
Something is definitely off. “Sure.” I open my mouth to talk to him about his flirting and how it needs to stop, when he jumps to his feet the moment Allie enters the room.
My brows knit together as he plants his lips on hers and shoves his tongue into her mouth. What is he playing at? And not only him. When he’s done eating her face, he whispers in her ear, and her eyes flick my way. I swear she’s smirking.
“Sup, man.” Samson slams his hand down on my shoulder, tearing me from my thoughts. Jumping over the back of the couch, he sits beside me. “See a pussy you like?”
I pretend to scan the crowd. Girls no longer interest me, but neither do guys. I have tunnel vision for Cole. “That one?” Samson asks, following my line of sight to a girl on the dance floor. Her short skirt swishes around her tanned thighs. Samson whistles, shoving a beer bottle at me. “I’m up for sharing if you’re into that stuff. A good old spit roast.”
I stare at the beer, trying to determine if Samson has slobbered over it, then pretend to take a sip. I don’t trust anyone anymore. “You can have her.”
He licks his lips like he is eyeing up a chopstick. “Thanks, man. I’ll ride her hard tonight. What do you think she’s into? Reverse cowgirl or doggy?”
“Doggy,” I reply absentmindedly, watching Jackson talk to some of the other guys. Why do I have such a bad feeling about tonight? It makes no sense.
“I think you’re right. She looks like an ‘ass in the air and face shoved into the pillow’ kinda girl. Those are my favorites. Nasty girls who like to be fucked hard.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Whatever you say.”
Samson smacks his knees before standing up. “I’m going in. You partaking in the chase later?”
I nod. “Sure am.”
“Good, man.” Samson claps me on the shoulder, his eyes on the girl. “Later.”
“Later.” As he walks away, I scan the room for Jackson, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Fucking typical. I don’t know when I’ll get to speak to him at this rate. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I check for the hundredth time if Cole has messaged. He hasn’t.
My heart sinks. I type out a quick message, but delete it. Then I type another one, my thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button.
Me: I wish you were here.
I delete that one, too.
Blaise is at the party.
There are photos already on social media. He’s in the background in a few, drinking a beer, and one of them has him talking to Mia. She’s close, sitting beside him on the sofa, her thigh pressed to his.
At least he’s keeping his hands off her.
I swipe to the next photo, and my blood runs cold when I see Jackson leaning over the back of the sofa, saying something to Blaise. He’s not looking at him, though, his eyes on the beer bottle in his hand as he peels the label.
The next swipe, Samson and Keith are taking a selfie with Allie, and Blaise is no longer on the sofa, and there’s no sign of Jackson.
He’s with my fucking friends, our ex-girlfriends, and Jackson, and I’ve not had a single message from him. My nerves have been acting up all night. A bad batch of butterflies in my gut when I think of all the ways he might be fucking around. He’s probably drunk and forgetting I exist.
I should trust him, but why? He fucked Mia only a few days ago, went to Jackson’s place, and then got chased by me without knowing it was me. And then earlier, we…
Every insecurity I have is valid.
I grind my teeth together as I cut off my phone screen and toss it aside, anxiety bubbling in my chest, heart pounding. Maybe I should go. Maybe I should get dressed and go lay claim on him, once and for all.
The shrill of my phone has me grabbing it and bringing it to my ear without looking. “Hello?”
“Son,” my dad says, hiccupping. “Don’t hang up on me again.”
With a sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose, dropping my head back on the couch. “What do you want? Calling to threaten me again? Seeing if no one is home so you can wreck the place again? Oh, wait, you want to scare my mom into leaving town and kidnap me?”
He sniggers, tsking. “You know me so well.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. There’s silence, and my heart races at the possibility of him crashing into my life and making it hell.
