Page 58 of This Is War: All's Fair Duet
I snicker. “I bet. Fuckin’ hot is what it sounds like. Probably best I didn’t see that.”
She gives a little shrug as one of the Tri-Betas comes over with shots for each of us. Wrinkling a nose, she accepts it and quickly tosses it back, then shudders as it slides down her throat. “That’s like fire.”
“From here on out, I’ll take the rest of yours for you. Don’t sweat it.”
“Thank you. I mean that.” Her gaze slides over to Trip, as does mine while he continues with his circus shenanigans, but no one we know has been called into the closets for round two. “At least he listened to me even if he was a dick about it.”
“Don’t give him too much credit,” I murmur, my focus shifting back to Logan across the room. It’s obvious Rya is aware he’s over there and she’s keeping her back to him for a reason. Out of sight, out of mind. Only… I’m not fooled. I doubt he’s ever off her radar. In fact, if she didn’t truly care for him, she’d have brushed off the breakup of their friendship. I wasn’t lying to Logan about that. She’s been miserable this week and trying so hard to hide it.
I pull her into my arms, and we sway together as aslow song plays through the speakers. My hands slide down the delicate curve of her back, then rest at the top of her ass. I make eye contact with Logan to let him know I see him watching us. He wrenches his gaze away. It must be hard to see me in possession of what was once his.
By the time we get to round four of this damn game, people are beginning to get a little sloppy. The entire room has had at least two shots apiece, and in many cases, more depending on whether they’ve accepted an extra for a friend. In addition, those who spent time in one of those closets but chose not to bend to Trip’s whims have had even more.
“Time to choose our final victims! Let’s gooo!” Trip throws both arms in the air as the last round of shots are passed through the crowd. It seems like Trip’s gotten himself plenty fucked up during his own game.
“Jaxon, what kind of vodka was that, do you know?” Rya’s brow furrows as she makes a yuck face. “I don’t like it.”
I don’t get a chance to answer as our attention is grabbed by Hazel bopping to the music on her way over to Logan. As soon as she reaches him, she proceeds to turn around and twerk in front of him. I raise a brow. Shit, girlfriend is totally wasted. I’m a half second from shaking my head when Trip shouts for everyone to shut up.
He draws two names and has them stand to one side ofhim, then dips his hand into the bowl for another two slips of paper. “Rya Monroe, you’re our luckiest girl tonight! You’re up again.”
She eases back from me, and as I stare into her eyes, I can tell she really doesn’t want to. Odds are she’ll get pressure from some dickwad that she’ll have to deal with…
Logan has taken a step forward, his eyes trained on her with an unyielding claim I’m not so sure I can get behind.
Nope, not today, Saint Logan.I raise my hand. “Can I go in for her?”
Trip narrows his beady-eyed drunken gaze on me, then glances at the other paper in his hand. “Yes. You’re sure?”
I roll my eyes, running a hand over my jaw. “I fuckin’ asked to, didn’t I?”
Rya shakes her head, peering up at me unsteadily. “I’ll be okay.”
“No. Let me do this for you,” I quietly demand as I cup her cheek. “It’s an easy hundred bucks or a shot, then we’re done and can return to the dorm.” I’m not pitching this weekend. It’ll be fine if I’m a little hungover. I’ll deal with it.
She stares up at me, swaying a bit as she whispers, “Okay.”
I wink, hoping to reassure her, then head over to stand beside Trip. I gesture to the slip of paper. “Who’s the girl?”
Trip glances at it, snorting. His face distorts, giving him a deranged appearance as he cackles. He wets his lips, like he’s already eating this shit up. “Logan Kent.”
I turn to find Rya’s hands covering the lower half of her face, her horror-struck eyes traveling from me to Logan and back.
My teeth clench.No, he did not. But… he did.Trip slaps the envelope against my chest so I have to grab it or drop it and crooks a devilish finger at Logan.
For several seconds, I don’t move and neither does anyone else in the room. Everyone’s waiting with bated breath for Logan’s response and my own.
Eyes wide and pinned on me, Logan works his jaw to the side. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me.”
“’Fraid not.” Trip’s amusement knows no bounds, and if he’s not careful, he’s going to get clocked in the chin.
Shaking my head, I yank the card from the envelope. Fuck it.
Seven Minutes
in Tri-Beta Heaven (or Hell):
Oral. Have fun, kids.
