Page 4 of Exes That Puck
I wipe my mouth, watching her go. Payton’s arm is around her, pulling her close, like Kara needs protection. Like she’s not the one who kissed me back thirty seconds ago.
Her shoulders are tight, head down, hair falling in her face. I know that walk. It’s like she’s trying to shrink into herself. Except she can’t shrink from me. She can pretend all she wants, but I felt her lips part under mine. I felt the way she trembled when I touched her.
She’ll fight it tomorrow. She’ll tell her friends she regrets it, swear it was a mistake. She’ll do everything she can to convince herself I’m poison.
But the truth? She wouldn’t kiss me like that if she was truly done. She wouldn’t look at me like that if she was over it.
She wants me. Still. Always.
She just hates herself for it.
I walk back to the party and find the first beer I can and pop the top off. I tip the beer back, but the taste is nothing compared to the image stuck in my head. Kara on her knees, dress soaked, foam dripping down her chest. Laughing. Wild.
And then Lola. Kissing her. Fucking hell.
My jaw tightens. It’s not about Lola. It’s about Kara putting on a goddamn show. Letting everyone see what’s mine.
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get that no matter how far she runs, she still belongs to me.
I hate it. I hate that I’m this hard just thinking about her. About the beer sliding down her throat. About her tongue against mine outside.
It’s always been like this with us. I can’t touch her without losing myself. Can’t fight with her without wanting her.
We were never bad in bed. We were bad everywhere else. The screaming, the jealousy, the nights she stormed out and the mornings I didn’t call. But the second her mouth touches mine, it all burns away, and I’m right back where I swore I wouldn’t be.
The front door bangs open, spilling more music and bodies onto the porch. A couple of the guys from the team push past, already buzzed, talking loud about who’s going to win beer pong. I follow them back in, slipping into the crowd.
One of my closest boys, Carter, is camped out by the couch with a fresh round. He spots me and grins. “Damn, Zeke. Thought you’d be leaving with Kara tonight.”
I shake my head, not wanting to get into the details. He laughs but doesn’t push, because none of them do. All the guys know the deal with me and Kara. We’re either on fire or burnt out,nothing in between. And they know better than to say shit about it.
Carter slides me a fresh beer because I just finished my other one. He jerks his chin toward the front lawn. “You see Matt out there losing his shit again?”
I glance out the window. Sure enough, Matt’s pacing the grass, phone clutched to his ear, face red as hell. His girl’s probably chewing him out from across town. Or maybe he’s chewing her out. With Matt, it’s the same damn thing.
“Every weekend,” I mutter.
“Dude’s gotta learn to let it go,” Carter says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed but also entertained.
Brad laughs. “Dylan’s bailing again.”
“Of course he is,” Carter groans. “What’s the excuse this time?”
Brad reads it off his screen with a mock-serious voice. “‘Can’t tonight, boys. Training in the morning.’” He snorts. “Biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Since when does Dylan bail? Kid’s probably holed up with some girl.”
Laughter ripples through the guys. We’re all sitting around the coffee table. I smirk, but it doesn’t stick. My mind keeps drifting back to Kara. Her lips, her eyes, that look that says she hates me but still needs me.
I tip my can back and drown the thought with another long swallow.
The noise of the room hums around me—teammates talking trash, music pounding, Matt yelling on the lawn. It should be enough to distract me, but it isn’t.
All I see is Kara walking away with Payton’s arm around her like I’m the enemy.
Carter leans in, half a grin on his face. “So… you and her. Done-done this time?”
I don’t answer. Just take a sip of my beer.
He lets it drop. No one pushes, because everyone knows me and Kara aren’t built for clean breaks.
