Page 19 of The Season
“Shut the fuck up,” Tom hisses. “What are you, like twelve? Shouldn’t you be at home with your mom or something?”
My smile drops, the laughter dying as my lips curve into a scowl. I might tolerate being called “baby face” by my friends, but I’ve only just met this guy.
“Guys,” Seth interjects, pink spots forming on his cheeks. “Let’s just get settled in, yah? Tom, Liam—do either of you guys need help moving stuff in?” He waves one hand toward the kitchen, where the drinks he’s made are gathering condensation on the bench. “I’ve mixed up some bourbon and cola if anyone wants one. I can make more, and there are some beers in the fridge, if you don’t mind the cheap stuff…” He gives a forced chuckle, but it’s enough to break up some of the tension.
“Oh, I totally forgot my drink.” Lily gives a self-deprecating laugh, then reaches down to tug Matty by the hand, pulling both of them toward the kitchen before shooting Seth a soft smile. “Thanks so much, Seth.”
Some of the tension drains from Seth’s expression. Tom gives an annoyed huff, his booted feet thudding on the carpet as he hauls his bag into the room he’s going to be sharing with Lily.
Liam turns his attention back to me, his lips thinning at the sight of the now-empty drink in front of me. “Eddie,” he says, somehow making my name sound extremely ominous. “We need to talk.”
Chapter6
Lily
Whoever said that guys are less dramatic than girls clearly never lived with six of them.
I pull my blanket up to my chin and stare unseeingly into the darkness.
The only plus side to the massive welcome-to-the-condo-blow-out is that—after making Seth help him move his queen size bed into our room—Tom Davey decided to go out drinking. Meaning I’ve had the room to myself all evening.
I roll to one side, the inflatable mattress squeaking faintly beneath me as I try to get comfortable. I tap the screen on my phone where it’s resting beside my pillow, dismayed to see that it’s already one in the morning. Not ideal, considering I’ve got to be on the snow all day tomorrow. But after everything that has happened over the past couple days, my mind is buzzing, humming with nerves and irritation, and something I can’t quite place.
I close my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing…
“So, this is your place?” An unfamiliar feminine voice has my eyes flying open.
“Yah, this is my room here.” Tom’s words are slurred, muffled, his footsteps heavy outside the door to my room. The doorknob jangles, and I shut my eyes against the faint light from the hallway as it streams into our room.
“Don’t worry about her,” Tom drawls, his footsteps uneven as he stumbles into the room. “She’s sleepin’.”
For a brief moment, I contemplate telling him and his would-be guest that actually, I’m not asleep, because it’s pretty obvious why he’s bringing a strange woman into our room in the middle of the night. But for some reason, I freeze, the words dying in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as I squeeze my eyes shut.
There’s the distinctive sound of clothes rustling, a faint hiccupping burp, the slap of flesh against flesh. I shudder, my stomach churning at the thought of Tom in any state of undress in his bed, just feet away from me.
“Shit yah, so hot,” Tom slurs. “So tight.”
“Hold on,” the woman with him urges. “Uh. Yah. Okay, there… no, not there,there…”
I wince at the obvious sound of discomfort in her voice, mingled with the sounds of Tom’s almost animalistic grunts.
For some reason, Akiva’s question from the other day chooses that moment to echo in my thoughts—what is your type?I bite back an ill-timed laugh, pressing my hand against my mouth.
“So good.Hngh. Yah. Just like that…” Tom’s voice rings out in the darkness.
Well, I think I can safely say my type is not Tom. I can also rule out having a voyeur kink, because listening to Tom pound into his unfortunate date is the opposite of arousing.
I guess it’s always good to learn new things about yourself.
The woman’s cries echo feebly alongside Tom’s, sounding false even to my ears. I don’t blame her. At this stage, she’s probably just desperate to get the whole ordeal over with. I wince in sympathy because, I’ve been there. Well, I’ve never slept with someone quite as repulsive as Tom, but I have slept with guys I wasn’t attracted to.
That wasn’t their fault though. I haven’t been attracted to a guy since Steve. And at least they tried to make it good for me.
Unlike Tom for his date.
“Hng,hng, ahhh!” After what seems like hours of cringe-inducing skin-slapping, Tom’s final shouts of victory fill the room, the sound followed by a long moment of awkward silence, then the rustling of bedding and clothes.
“I… I’m going to head out,” the woman murmurs, her voice full of false cheerfulness.
