Page 27 of Faking Summer
"I'm sixteen, Reese," she shot back. "I'm old enough to hang out with you."
I looked at her, deadpan. "Like hell you are,” I said. “Especially not around my shithead teammates.”
"Why don't I just tell mom and dad and see what they think about your little gathering?"
"Nice try," I shrugged. "I could give a damn if they know."
"Fine," Lo broke the standoff, "but if I'm exiling myself toBreana’s for the night, then I need extra cash. They're hitting the mall and I refuse to be the only one just window shopping."
"Here," I sighed, pulling out my wallet and thrusting money into her outstretched palm.
"Always a pleasure doing business with you, brother."
After Lo left the front door swung open repeatedly, bringing in more guests until they were everywhere—some talking, others dancing. And then of course, in walked Chandler with Willow at her side.
"Carrington," a voice called, as a cluster of my teammates walked over to me.
"Hey," I managed, my eyes locked onto Chandler as I patted them on the back. She looked good like always. I was still a little fucked up about her, still a little bitter about stepping aside for Boston. I still thought I’d made the right decision, but I was doing my best to relinquish my feelings for her, and things with women were strange at best lately.
"Everything cool?" one of the guys nudged me.
"Never better," I lied, the words as hollow as the bottle I tipped to my lips. Pretending not to give a shit came easy to me at this point.
A yell made us all turn to look, "The champ is in the house!" Some guy at the party leapt onto our unsuspecting left fielder. The two of them hit the floor, their limbs entwined as they began to wrestle.
"Hey—" My voice sliced through their grunts. "If you fuckers break that table, you can pay to have the next one shipped in from Italy."
They paused, one mid-headlock, eyes locking with mine. For a brief second they silenced. Then, a burst of laughter erupted from them, and they resumed their wrestling match. I shook my head with a grin. Sipping on my Jack & Coke, I made my way through the pulsing bodies that filled my house. These parties always ended up being bigger than I anticipated, word spreads like wildfire in Bayside. But I was not expecting to see the second baseman from one of our rival teams—one who’d tried to start a fight with me last week.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said, jaw twitching. His eyes widened as he froze in place like I caught him red handed.
"H-Hey, man," he stuttered, "just here to chill, not start any drama."
"Chill elsewhere," I replied, my tone was dark. "Or I can make sure you can't ever walk in here again." Then my eyes shifted to the girl with him as I took another sip of my drink. “But she can stay.”
He scoffed, his ego bruised. "No fucking way. If I go, she's going with me."
"You can leave with that loser or stay," I drawed, locking eyes on the girl still standing by him. "Choice is yours."
He fumbled for composure, but she paused, her gaze flickering from him to me. Slowly, she licked her lips, and her cheeks flushed with color.
"Well," she hesitated, her voice barely rising above the music, "I'm not ready to go home yet."
His response was immediate rage. "What the fuck?"
Without missing a beat, I gave a subtle nod to my teammates. They were standing nearby watching. In one fluid motion, their hands were firm on his collar as they marched him toward the door. The scrape of his heels against my hardwood floor was satisfying.
As he struggled, having no power against the two kicking him out, I slipped my arm around the girl's slender shoulders. "Have fun," I called out, just loud enough for him to hear as the door swung shut in his face.
The girl I had my arm around tilted her head up to me, a curious gleam in her eye. "You must be Reese," she ventured.
I flashed her a half-smile. "Guilty," I admitted. My eyes locked onto hers just long enough to let the connection simmer. "Treat yourself to whatever you like." I gave her a quick wink as I nodded toward the bar.
I made my escape to the backyard, needing to get out of this crowded space inside. But before I could push open the door, a firm grip on my arm yanked me off course. The bedroom doorslammed shut behind me, and I found myself staring down at Blair, a devilish look on her face.
"Blair, what are you—" I started, but she cut me off, her hands pushing against my chest until I fell backward onto the bed.
"Shut up and just listen," she demanded, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw as she straddled me. The alcohol in my system had dulled my reflexes, and although I didn’t feel the way I used to about her, I was all too familiar with this move of hers. She kissed my neck, sending a familiar heat coursing through me. "I really miss you," she whispered, her lips grazing my skin with every word.
