Page 50 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

I shrug her off and disappear through the basement door without a backward glance. It’s a dick move. I could’ve at least lied and made up an excuse. But I don’t have time to make a puck bunny feel better about me ditching her, and I can’t take it anymore. I pissed Blake off. And a pissed-off Blake is capable of anything. Including sleeping with a guy just to prove she can, knowing it’ll get under my skin.

Fuck this.

In the basement, there’s a pool table, a dart board, and an entertainment center where the guys and I like to play Call Of Duty or watch movies, but the screen’s off for now. A few people are scattered around. Some are playing a game of pool, while a few others are dry humping on the couches and sticking their tongues down each other’s throats.

None of them are Blake, though. And I almost wish they were. Because if she were out here, she wouldn’t actively be losing her virginity, and I wouldn’t be seconds from barging into my buddy’s bedroom in order to stop that exact thing from happening.

There are three bedrooms in the basement and one bathroom all of the guys share. It’s why their rent is cheaper. It’s also why the players who room down here are all invested in winning the bet for Blake’s virginity. Most of them don’t have as much cash to spare and would love to win the pot.

The idea makes me feel like little bugs are crawling along my skin, leaving me itchy and uncomfortable.

This is a mistake.

Fuck my promise to stay away from her.

And fuck my loyalty to my teammates for keeping her in the dark so they could get away with popping her cherry for money.

My hand clenches at my side as I stride toward the last door on the right and shove it open. It flings against the wall with a heavy thud, followed by a screech.

“What the fuck, man?” Burrows shouts.

He’s still shirtless as he glares at me over his shoulder near the wall on the opposite side of the room. His torso covers the Thorne in my side from my view, which only makes shit worse. Is she naked? Was I too late? Did I just walk in on my best friend’s little sister getting fucked for the first time?

“Get the hell out,” I order.

Burrows turns around and faces me fully but keeps using his body to block me from seeing Blake. His jeans are unbuckled, and his chest is puffed out while a pair of green eyes peek at me from behind him.

“This is my room,” Burrows reminds me. Cooly. Calmly.

I tear my gaze away from what little I can see of Blake and look back at one of my good friends. Or at least, he used to be. Right now, I want to beat the shit out of him.

“Yeah, I know this is your room. And if you don’t want to end the lease early, I suggest you leave it so I can have a chat with Blake.”

“Are you threatening me?” Burrows’ hands tighten as he stalks closer.

“Yeah. I am,” I reply. “Get the hell out of this room. Now.”

Blake snaps out of whatever reverie she’d been in and rushes after him, grabbing his arm. “Uh, bullshit. He’s not leaving,” she argues.

“Yes, he is,” I growl.

She steps around him, her lacy, white bra and dark jeans leaving little to the imagination as relief pools in my stomach.

I’m not too late.

Sandwiching herself between Burrows and me, she seethes, “What the hell is your problem, Theo?”

I step closer, and Burrows does the same, practically squishing Blake between us as our nostrils flare.

“My problem?” I laugh. “Why don’t you ask your friend what my problem is?”

“Oh, so now he’s my friend and not yours?” she counters. “Since when?”

“Since he put a bet on your virginity,” I spit.

Her breath hitches, and the blood drains from her face. Like it’s finally sunk in. Like she’s realized I’m not the enemy anymore. Like she’s realized I’m trying to protect her. The vice around my ribcage eases, giving me a second to breathe before she replaces her surprise and hurt with a look of indifference. One that fucking chills me to the bone.

“Is it true?” she asks no one in particular. Dazed yet controlled. No tears. No anger. Nothing but the same dose of cold indifference.

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