Page 4 of Fake Dates and Home Plates
Looking around, I find a familiar face.
Dakota knows I wasn’t a virgin when I met him, and I’ve always been honest about my past. Even if it was awkward telling him I fucked his teammate two years ago. I didn’t share any details with him. I’m sure he’s seen Chase’s piercing in the locker room, so he doesn’t need me to inform him how magical that piece of metal is.
I spent the better part of my sophomore year ordering toys to try and replicate the feeling.
Plopping down on the couch next to him, I give him a nod in hello. We might have hooked up a couple of times, but neither of us made a fuss out of it, clearly knowing the score. Instead, we hang out occasionally when we see each other around.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Chase asks, his formal date long gone.
“Getting a drink,” I say, trying to force a smile.
We sit in silence for another ten minutes before anger starts to sink in. It’s one thing to leave me on my own, but to get lost in conversation knowing I’m here waiting is a dick move.
Chase leans over and lowers his voice. “Listen, I know we barely know each other. Except in the biblical sense or whatever.” He pauses to give me a wink. “But I’m going to break guy code because you’re a cool fucking person and don’t deserve to be treated this way.”
I feel my eyebrows dip in confusion. Yeah, it sucks Dakota left me on my own, but I don’t think it’s the end of the world to be left waiting longer than I’d like.
“It’s fine. He’ll be back any minute,” I say with a shrug, not liking the way his words sound a lot like an accusation.
“Henley,” he says seriously, “I think you should go find him. Shit happens at these parties, and you need to know the truth.”
A sick feeling sinks into my stomach, and I don’t think twice before getting up. I walk to the bar filled with ridiculousamounts of liquor. Kal is there, handing out drinks, but I don’t see Dakota.
“Oh, hey, Henley,” Kal greets me with a nervous chuckle. “You just missed Dakota; he had to piss.”
I don’t believe him at all. His voice has a squeaky pitch to it, making him sound like a cartoon rat.
Kal is a sleaze. He hits on anyone, whether they’re interested or not. He’s an entitled coward, thinking he’s owed everything while putting in zero effort.
I don’t even pretend to tolerate him.
The way his eyes nervously search the room tell me he knows what Dakota is actually up to.
Kal looks like he wants to run away from me.
“Which bathroom?” I ask, not a trace of kindness in my tone.
He laughs. “What, you want to hold his dick for him? Damn, at least wait until you get home.”
“Something like that,” I say without humor, unable to muster up even a little bit of a fake smile to entertain him.
“Come on, loosen up. Let me make you a drink so you can relax.” Kal starts to mix things together without bothering to ask what I might want.
I don’t think so. He could make the drink right in front of me, and I still wouldn’t trust it.
Walking away without responding, I follow my gut and make my way upstairs. People are everywhere, blocking doors or waiting for their chance in the bathroom.
But at the end of the hallway is a room with a number four painted on the door. Kal’s number. Setting my shoulders, I walk towards it with determination.
“You don’t want to go in there,” a stranger tells me as I put my hand on the handle. “Pretty sure it’s taken, if you get me.”
Oh, I get it. I’m not going to like whatever I find.
I smile. “It’s fine, I like to watch.”
Slamming the door open, my smile drops. My eyes burn at the sight but I don’t look away.
Dakota stands right in front of me, but he’s definitely not alone.
