Page 24 of Chase
“You sure he isn’t your anything, Red?” Drew eyes me curiously. If I really am something to Chase Wilton, then I wish he’d figure out what that is already.
Chapter Eight
ISLOWLY OPENone eye and the small movement painfully ripples through my whole head. The assault of cool air on my eyeball causes a whole body shiver.Make. It. Stop.I shut my eyes and reach for the blanket to tuck it closer to stop the shivering that now won’t quit.
I’m gonna be sick. I lean over and puke into a garbage can that has been strategically placed.
“That’s it, puke it all out now, we have practice in two hours and you know if you upchuck on the ice, Coach will make you lick that shit up on your hands and knees.”Wait where the fuck am I? It sure doesn’t feel like my bed.“You're in Drew’s room, we had to spend the night here.”I’m too hungover for our triplet-speak right now.
“Get out of my head, A, I don’t want you lurking around in there,” I tell him and pull the blanket over my head.
“Afraid I’ll uncover all your deepest and darkest secrets? Newsflash, I already know them, ” he says at the same time he rips off the blanket.
“No you don’t,” I say defensively and automatically think of Sloane and how I end up finding her. Watching. Wanting. Staring. Unable to stay away. He’d chain my feet together if he knew.
“You really went fucking balls to the wall last night,” he says and interrupts my mini freak out that he’ll figure out what I’ve been doing. I wash out my mouth with a few sips of water from the bottle that’s on the bedside table along with two Advil. I chug the rest of it and rollover.
“Can say the same for you too, at one point you had your hands full of Delta girls,” I’m expecting him to at least smile at that but he just frowns.
“We're not talking about me right now, we're talking about you, what the fuck man? I haven’t seen you that fucked up in a long ass time. You were drowning in tequila and then you got into a fistfight with some asshole who got a little too friendly with Red.”Yeah, that about sums it up.I groan and turn over to lay on my back and throw my arm over my eyes in an attempt to block out more than just the overhead lights.
“You got your ass knocked out,” he laughs. “You got some solid hits in though.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumble and the smell of my own vomit breath causes me to gag.
“Too fucking bad, I do,” he says and smacks my face with a pillow. I sit up to glare at him and the sudden upright movement is too much and I immediately crumble back into the fetal position.There’s no way I’m going to practice today.
“You’ve got thirty minutes and then we gotta go,” I swear he’s in my head again.
“Stop listening to my thoughts, it’s annoying as hell. And shut the fucking lights off.”Fucking brothers.
“This is your fault we even have practice today. Maybe after your cat nap you’ll want to tell me what the fuck happened and why you were drinking your ass off,” he says while shifting his weight on the bed to turn the lamp off for me. He’s sweet like that.
“Not likely,” I mumble.
“Fine, then I’ll stick to my own conclusions about your floundering mental health. Which we will be talking about eventually.”
“Yeah, definitely not, asshole,” I tell him.
“Go to sleep, dickface, I’ll wake you up when we gotta go.”
I shut my eyes for what feels like ten seconds before A is nudging me to wake up so we can head home to shower, eat a protein bar, and head to the arena for morning skate.Fuck.
Within the hour I’m skating like a toddler on shaky legs, missing passes, and even fumble my stick. It’s just as bad as yesterday. I don’t want to fucking be here, and everyone out here knows it.
I feel like I’ve been run over, and my head is full of shit from last night, plus my face is fucking sore from the punches I took. Who the fuck was that asshole and why did he think he could fucking touch her? I don’t give a shit if it was just a little dancing. It pissed me the fuck off.
“Wilton, you smell like Jose Cuervo and disappointment. Get your ass off my ice, and go shower. You’ve also earned yourself an extra few shifts of volunteering this week. I also want you in my office tomorrow morning, 9:00 AM, don’t be a second late. Next time you drink like a fucking fish I’ll gut you like one, that goes for all you jackasses!” I’m not the only guy out here looking green, but I am definitely the most hungover I’ve been this season. I’m probably also the only one with bruises on his face after getting into a fistfight.
I hang my head, and skate off, and take the name-calling from my team.Assholes.I shower, pop more Advil, down two Gatorades and a water. I need real food and a nap and I’ll be functional again. I need to go for a run. Run to her.Find her. Watch her. Get my fix.
I wait for the guys to get back, and sort themselves out, before we make our way over to the caf for brunch. My hands are sweaty and it’s not the leftover alcohol seeping out of my body, it’s anticipating seeing her.
We’re headed to the only caf on campus that’s open on Sundays and I already know she’ll be here with my sister. The angel on my shoulder has insisted I eat soggy cereal in my room on Sunday mornings to avoid running into her there. She’s recited the long list of reasons why I’ve needed to stay away while I’ve eaten stale Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
But now, I’ve seen another pair of hands on her and that has the devil on the other side angry as hell. He’s reminding me how fucking pissed I was seeing that dickhead dance with her, touching her body, and being close enough to grind against her ass. He isn’t fucking hesitating to slap his hand over the angel’s whiney mouth as he urges me to hurry the fuck up so we can see her.
If she’s not there, I’m going to find her. Just thinking about seeing her is making my stomach flip and it’s not because I’mhungry. I am. But my desire to see her after last night is insatiable.
