Page 26 of Lost Boy

“Hey, are you all right?” I ask, knowing he won’t want to burden me with whatever is on his mind. “You seem off.”

“I’m good,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Do you need a ride? I’m going to head out.”

“No. I’m all set.” I shake my head. “I’ll see you at home later.”

I expect him to ask if I’m waiting for someone, but he doesn’t. Probably because whatever is going on with him has him fully consumed. Which is good because I don’t want to admit to him that I’m waiting for Cade to tell him good game.

Hunter heads outside, and a few minutes later, I spot Cade walking toward me. He’s walking fast, and even though a few people are trying to get his attention, he blows past them, never giving them a second look.

“Hey,” I say, holding my hand up, moving closer to him. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thanks,” he says, looking toward me, but not really at me. He gives me a tight-lipped smile before dragging a hand over the top of his head. “Look, I can’t really talk, sorry. I have something to get to.”

My smile falls, but I try to hide it by plastering on a bigger one, which I’m sure makes me look like a crazy person. “Oh, yeah. No problem. I was just getting ready to head out anyway.”

“Sweet.” He nods, continuing to move toward the door.

I expect him to ask me if I need a ride. Something. Anything to show he gives a shit that I’m here.

Instead, he just holds his hand up. “See you later.”

I watch him head outside into the parking lot and to his truck, and even though I have no right to be mad, I’m fuming.

How can the same guy who gave me the most perfect day act like this a week later?

And this right here is a reminder of why it’s all right for me to continue hanging out with Nash without feeling guilty. Because unlike Cade, he doesn’t make me feel like I’m a damn nuisance half the time. I’ve kept Nash at arm’s length and made myself too available to Cade. No more though. He’s made it real clear just by his actions that he doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do him.

Cade gives a little, and then he takes a lot. Over and over. He’s hot, and then he’s icy cold. It’s exhausting and confusing. And I’m done with it. I’m done with him.

I had no intentions of coming to a party at the football house after tonight’s hockey game. But when Nash texted me minutes after Cade was a complete douchebag with a capital D, I thought,Why the hell not?

I asked Remi to join, and, bam, here we are.

I stumble slightly but continue to let my hips roll and my head bob to the music. I’ve let myself get too drunk, and that’s pretty stupid of me.What kind of person who has been kidnapped lets their guard down enough to get this drunk at a party?Me, apparently. But when I got here, I was still irritated with Cade, and I needed to let off some steam. And so, here I am, drunk as a skunk.

So far, I’ve spent the past hour alternating between dancing with Remi or Nash. I’m not sure if I like Nash—like,reallylike him. Or if I’m testing the waters, hoping I’ll stop thinking about Cade and picturing him naked. Either way, hanging out with a hot dude like Nash seems like a solid place to start.

“Maybe you should switch to water,” Nash says softly in my ear before pulling back and giving me a small shrug. “Just so that you don’t feel like shit tomorrow.” He cringes. “Or you know … puke. That’s never fun.” He swipes his thumb over my chin. “You’re too pretty for puking.”

Since I got here, I’ve only seen him drink one beer. And even though we’ve danced, he’s not acting like a wild animal, like some of the other dudes around here. He’s completely sober.

“You’re cute,” I say, reaching up and touching his hair. “I like you.”

“That’s good.” He laughs, grinning down at me. “I like you too. Which is why I don’t want you to get alcohol poisoning. And judging by your size and how much you’ve had to drink, it’s a strong possibility that’s where you’re headed.”

I spot Remi behind him, dancing with a bunch of girls as she tips her head back and laughs. “That’s my best friend!” I call out. “She’s the best. Isn’t she the best? I love her.”

“She is,” Nash mutters, looking over the top of my head. “Let’s go get you some water.”

“If by water you mean another drink … then yes! Lead the way.” I squeeze his hand. “Has anyone ever told you your hands are soooo soft?” I break into a fit of giggles, like an idiot. “Like Charmin soft.”

He gives me a slightly frustrated look. “Did you just compare my hands to toilet paper?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Evvveryone has to use TP sometimes. Nothin’ to be ’shamed of, Nashy Washy.”

He continues to hold my hand, leading us toward the kitchen. He doesn’t need to weave a path; people just make space for him, just like they do every other football or hockey player at Brooks. I roll my eyes to myself. He’ll never have to go through that awkwardexcuse me, can I sneak past youconversation.

I sway to the music as he reaches in the fridge before grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the top off. But just as I take it from him, bringing it to my lips, it’s yanked away from me. And when I realize what’s going on, I see Cade standing between Nash and me. Blocking me, almost like a shield. His shoulders tense as he glares down at me.

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