Page 22 of A Summer Thing

Chapter Thirteen

Declan

The Rising Phoenix.

The bold, bright pink letters of the club marquee stand out in the dim alleyway—a scattered line of anxious, amused, rowdy football players waiting to get in and cheer their teammate on.

Addy and I are the only girls here to help soften their wild energy, and even then, we haven’t really smoothed their rough edges at all. It’s entirely amusing, though—and endearing, to be honest. That they’re all here in support, and excited at that.

I’ve gotten to know them a lot more than I ever thought I would.

Enough that it no longer feels like I’m standing in a group full of strangers, but something a little closer to friends, maybe.

Like Parker, Jameson, and Williams—Jude’s roommates who are staying at the Masons’ as well.

And Landon, who’s invited us back to his lake house a few times.

And then there’s Boss, of course. Along with a few of the other guys who are here tonight, too.

They’re tight-knit, these guys. A family of their own making. It gives me hope that maybe someday I can build a family of my own like this one. Broaden the circle of people I can trust, outside of Addy and the Masons.

What about Jude? The thought weeds through me, taking root.

My lungs stretch to fill with my sharp inhale at the idea, but there’s not enough space in my chest to accommodate my breaths. Not when my heart has started racing, pounding, filling my ribcage with its accelerated beats.

Jude.

Jude, Jude, Jude—

Addy squeals beside me, tearing me from the potential spiral of my thoughts. “This is going to be so much freaking fun!” she shouts and spins on the balls of her feet, dancing along to whatever song is playing inside her head.

“Don’t be too excited now,” Boss drawls, swathing her in his hold, his arms sliding around her torso from behind and stilling her movements. “Remember who keeps you warm at night, baby.”

Her smile stretches wide, and the emotion reaches her eyes. She bites down on her bottom lip, folding her arms over his until they’re completely entwined. “Oh, I remember,” she purrs, and it’s my cue to find something else—anything else—to focus on.

I turn in the opposite direction. Just in time to spot Jude walking down the alleyway.

My breath hitches in my throat, before releasing with an embarrassing whoosh.

No one should have the right to be that attractive.

No one. Black hoodie; fitted, dark jeans; white tee; ass-kicking boots; and those beautiful tattoos, peeking out from beneath his clothing wherever his skin meets the air.

On his wrists, his hands, his fingers, his neck.

And then there’s those piercing gray eyes.

They dig straight into me, even from yards and yards away.

And it hits me, just how screwed I am. The way my attraction to him, my connection to him, has flourished beyond my control. An errant weed, spreading like wildflowers.

I beg my heart to calm as he makes his way toward me. Making a beeline for me. An easy smile resting on his lips. Dimples dipping into his cheeks. And so of course, my heart doesn’t obey at all. It gallops away, racing through my limbs and sprinting through my veins.

An inked arm slides around me, a face dipping into my neck.

“Hey, Little D,” Jude whispers, and it sends a heated shiver up my spine.

“Hey, Brooklyn,” I greet back, and even though it’s at least eighty-something degrees outside, I can feel how flushed my cheeks are, adding to all the warmth flooding through me.

I shift in his hold and meet his stare.

And it’s now that it also hits me, for the millionth time in the last few weeks, that I already sort of knew him. Knew of him, anyway.

SebCarter33.

I haven’t been able to reconcile it. The fact that Jude—this moody, broody, surprisingly amazing but kind of an asshole guy—is the same one I’ve watched play Nevernight online. The same voice I’ve listened to many nights, soothing the ache of the world as it lulled me to sleep.

It’s no wonder his accent felt so familiar.

I could never tell him so, but it’s true.

And then to be playing with him… I could also never tell him what a dream it’s been, to play with someone I’ve admired online for so long. The infamous, anonymous, SebCarter33.

At some point, I will tell him; I just don’t know when that point will be. Maybe when I’m fourteen hundred miles away, tucked safely away in my dorm room. Yeah, that feels like a solid plan to me.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Addy squeals, reaching into her purse to pull out her famous silver flask, effectively redirecting my thoughts. “It’s the good stuff this time.” She waggles her brows. “McCallan, from Dad’s deep stash. 25 years—whatever that means.”

Boss’s laughter eclipses her own. “Shit, baby. You better hope that one goes unnoticed. That’s some pricey stuff right there.”

Her face brightens. “Isn’t that the point, sexy? Besides, I don’t think he’ll notice. There were a handful of others just like it behind this one. Daddy gets a ton of bottles as gifts from his players and their parents at the end of every season, so he can’t keep up.”

He whistles on his exhale, his bright eyes flaring wide. “Well, you gonna share some of the good stuff or what, babydoll?”

She smiles in return, and with that, she passes it down the line of us, starting the scotch train off with me.

I shake my head and pass it to the next guy.

Jude refuses, too, but that doesn’t come as a surprise.

I haven’t seen him drink even a drop of alcohol in all the times we’ve been out together.

I haven’t asked him why, because then it might invite questions my way where alcohol is concerned. Questions I haven’t faced myself let alone explained to anyone else.

He passes the flask of Macallan along and shifts closer with his movement, the warmth of him heating my entire right side until it’s all I can feel, seeping through my skin and heating every bit of me.

My heart hasn’t stopped racing, but still, its beats spike even higher, my…

everything too aware of his proximity. And the smell of his cologne.

And the veins traveling through his sturdy hands.

And his full lips pursing as he pushes out a breath, frowning down at his phone, his arm still slung around my shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, and it pulls his attention to me.

“What—oh, yeah.” He slides his phone into his jeans and shifts even closer, tipping his head toward mine as he speaks softly enough not to be heard by anyone else.

“Just making sure the guys have a ride secured. They’ll all be drunk off their asses by the end of tonight, so I have to—” he cuts himself off with a shrug, but the look on his face tells me he doesn’t say that out loud very often, if at all.

That he feels responsible for securing designated rides for his drunk friends.

I heard him mutter something about it at that first party.

And again, at Club Vee. Before he drove me home himself, he’d ordered Parker to share an Uber with Jameson and Williams back to the Masons when they were ready to head back, and Parker had reluctantly agreed with an exaggerated roll of his eyes—like he was all too used to the request.

I’ve wondered what that’s about, along with his lack of a need to drink any alcohol himself. If it has anything to do with the shadows that tinge his gaze, or more likely, with the loss of his girlfriend who got behind the wheel while intoxicated and didn’t survive it.

It’s none of my business.

So why do I want it to be my business?

Lucky for me, the back door swings open before I can think on it further, and we’re all ushered inside.

We’re led upstairs, up onto a private balcony that overlooks the club, courtesy of Boss and his parents.

Rainbow-colored lights flash and dance from above, painting the faces on the dance floor in brilliant streaks of color, and loud music vibrates the floor beneath my feet.

When shots of tequila are passed through the group of us, I refuse again, having decided sometime in the last twenty-four hours that I can’t keep doing this—letting alcohol numb the feeling of walls contracting around me, of more and more bodies filling the space, stealing more and more oxygen from the room.

That, and I’m still mildly hungover from this morning’s adventures. Instigated by Addy, of course.

The more boxed in I start to feel, though, the more I begin to regret my decision.

But the surrounding excitement as everyone waits for the performance to begin is still palpable—Williams’ performance, specifically—and I grasp onto the feeling, ignoring the others poking and prodding at me and attempting to flood into my psyche.

Jude scoots closer beside me at the balcony ledge, deep in a conversation with Jameson and Parker about what sounds like gaming strategy, and Addy sidles in on my other side with a tipsy smile. She bounces on the balls of her feet, entirely giddy as the minutes tick by.

Parker’s voice raises above the commotion, insisting Jude is wrong—that the bloodstone in Nevernight is not, in fact, excavatable, though Jude stands firm on the fact that it is, that he’s done it himself.

They argue back and forth, before I cut in with, “Sorry, Parker, but it totally is. I’ve done it, too. ” I shrug.

“I’m the one that showed you that little trick, you know,” I say, quieter, lifting onto my toes to say the words in Jude’s ear, nudging him in the ribs with my elbow.

“Bullshit!” Parker bursts out. “Declan, honey, you’ve got all the best secrets, but you’re playing favorites, and it’s not fair.” He mock pouts, but it shifts into a bright, wicked smile. “Come whisper sweet nothings into my ear, too. I’m feeling a little left out.”

I bark out a laugh and feel my blush blooming beneath my cheekbones.