Page 42 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Asshole.

Then again, he’s held up his end of the deal and has let me do my own thing for the most part, so I can’t exactly complain.

He’s not supposed to be here tonight, which is the only reason I accepted Burrows’ invitation to tag along. Colt mentioned he’s visiting his older brother, Mack. It’s not any of my business, and I most definitely don’t care what he does or who he’s with in the first place, but still. I officially get a night at the Taylor House without the one and only Taylor being here to ruin it for me.

Okay, maybe I’m being unfair on that front.

Or maybe I’m not.

Honestly, I don’t even know.

I let out a slow breath and focus on the positive.

Yup.

Everything’s great, grand, and wonderful.

“Hey. You ready?” Burrows asks from the driver’s seat. He looks good. With a dark red T-shirt, light-washed jeans, and the same boyish smirk any girl would swoon over, he’s every girl’s fantasy.

And here I am.

His official plus-one for the evening.

“You know you didn’t have to pick me up, right?” I ask. Burrows has invited me to multiple parties over the past few weeks, but I’ve always declined. Which is stupid. I’m allowed to do what I want, and Theo promised he wouldn’t intervene.

But running into Theo at practice is one thing. Seeing him in his element at a party, or heaven forbid, with a girl who isn’t me? Yeah, it’s a whole new level of torture. One I’m not strong enough to handle, despite me throwing down the gauntlet and saying I was interested in meaningless sex with a guy who wasn’t him.

But tonight isn’t about Theo.

It’s about moving on.

It’s about me and Burrows.

Maybe.

It. Is. Not. About. Theo, I remind myself for the thousandth time.

I swear, the dude knows how to cockblock me even when he’s not trying, and it only frustrates me more.

“I wanted to pick you up,” Burrows reminds me. Tilting his head toward the house, he adds, “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

He tangles his fingers with mine, leading me into the house and through the throng of people packed into the space like sardines in a can. My wingwomen aren’t here tonight. Colt and Ash are visiting her parents for the weekend, and Mia’s working at SeaBird while Kate is being Kate, aka the anti-partier with a side of I-have-to-be-up-early-tomorrow locked and loaded for whenever someone invites her out for the night.

I huff out a sigh, grateful when Burrows leads me to the kitchen.

“You want anything?” he asks.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether or not we're playing Beer Pong tonight,” I quip.

With a low laugh, he splashes some Fireball and Coke into a plastic cup, handing it to me. “And lose my winning streak? Nah. I think I’ll keep the bragging rights. Thanks, though.”

He hands me the cup and mixes another for himself as I watch.

“I thought you said you wanted a rematch?” I point out.

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