Page 31 of The Casualty of Us
“Damn.” Graham laughs, passing the bottle over to him. “And people were so sure about that one.”
Hayes wastes no time in tossing back. “Why’d you really let us come tonight?”
“Because who could say no to America’s thirty million dollar girl?”
Marley leans down, whispering in my ear, “I think I need some popcorn to go with the show.”
Graham asks someone else in the group something that they refuse to answer, taking a shot instead before asking one themself. The next few rounds pass with increasingly personal questions being asked by the upperclassmen of each other before a girl that I think is a sophomore eyes me curiously again.
“Thirty million,” she starts hesitantly. “Is that really how much your mom paid to get you back, or did the media just pick a number and roll with it?”
The sudden tension of the group at her question is palpable and has my skin itching with the way everyone’s eyes settle on me.
I finally manage a nod. “Yeah.” Not wanting to back down in front of a crowd, I quickly add, “It was really thirty million.”
“Damn, I might kidnap you myself for that much.”
My head whips toward the guy who’s laughing at his own joke, and I’m about to snap back at him when Graham does it for me.
“Thomas, bad call, get the fuck out.”
“What?” he parrots stupidly, head whipping Graham’s way. “Dude, you can’t be serious.”
I look away from both of them and find Hayes’s gaze waiting for me, an intensity darkening it with his fists clenched in his lap.
Like he’s torn between keeping me in sight and something else.
“Oh, I’m very serious.” Graham laughs back shortly. “No one makes fucking jokes about that shit in here. Am I clear?” Silence thrums through the group, but I keep my eyes on Hayes’s while focusing on my breathing. “Now get the fuck out and don’t come back.”
A few seconds pass before Marley nudges my shoulder, and I finally look away, breaking the connection to find that she’s holding the bottle out to me. “It’s your turn, O.”
“Thanks.” I take the bottle, debating for a split second that has my stomach flipping before looking back at Hayes. “Did you really steal a car and take it street racing?”
He pauses, brows shooting down. “Ollie?”
“It’s not your turn,” I snap, something leftover from that one stupid comment pushing me right to the edge. “Truth or tequila?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat quickly. “I did.”
I blink at him, brows falling because—
“Why?”
“Not your turn, O.” He bites back, reaching across for the bottle, and I grudgingly pass it over. Not sure what to think about his honest answer or the fact he even did it in the first place. “You control the music, right?”
Graham jolts next to him, like he’s surprised to be drawn into whatever little battle we’re having, but he quickly recovers. “Yeah, why?”
Hayes leans over enough to say something to him under his breath that has Graham laughing before his eyes come to me and he gives him a single nod.
“What?” I raise a brow, but they both ignore my question, Hayes lifting the bottle to his lips instead and taking a quick gulp before looking at Marley.
“Oliver has been over there for the past thirty minutes talking to those guys about how football is the most superior sport.”
She gasps. “No, he hasn’t.”
“Yeah, he has.” He nods seriously. “I think he needs to be set straight.”
She’s gone before I can even blink, and Hayes takes full advantage, passing the bottle to Graham before coming to stand before me. “Dance with me?”
