Page 34

34

LANE

“ Y our pubic hair would not hang down from your junk like a beard if you stopped shaving.”

“Why not? Sure it would. That’s what happens to the hair on your face and head. Why would your pubic hair magically just stop growing?”

“It’s not that it stops growing. It falls out before it gets that long.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s because, like, the hair follicles are weaker down there or something.”

This is what it’s like living with Tuck and Sebastian. I came down to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and they’re in the living room, ignoring whatever they have playing on the TV while they argue about this .

I sigh as I walk past them, tuning out their voices. Sebastian’s really something else. One minute he’s talking about waiting for a book of medieval French poetry he ordered online, the next he’s arguing with Tuck about pubic hair.

Then again, none of us in this house are normal. I’m maybe the closest to the mark, but there’s nothing normal about the way I’ve carried a flame for a girl I had a fling with a year and a half ago and haven’t been able to stop moping around since she told me she wants to consider what happened between us in bed as a weird one-time thing .

Even though it’s the right thing to do. Obviously. I couldn’t keep fooling around with her without getting attached, and I don’t want an unrequited attachment on my part to make her feel awkward about living with me.

So, she one hundred percent had the right idea. I should be thankful she was the voice of reason. Instead, I feel forlorn. It’s pathetic, honestly.

Doesn’t help that I had a shitty practice today. I worked one-on-one drills against Jamie and he wiped the ice with me, deke-ing past me at will. I haven’t had a repeat of that one pathetic performance I turned in a couple games ago, but my poor form at practice today sharpens the edge of worry inside me.

When I open the refrigerator door, there’s a can of beer next to the bottles of water that looks awfully tempting right now.

What the hell? Why not. We don’t have a game or practice tomorrow. I crack it open and suck down a big gulp.

I decide to polish it off standing in front of the open door and grab a second. I take a smaller sip of my current can, already feeling some of the tension release in my muscles.

The doorbell rings.

“Yo, Lane, you gonna get that?” Sebastian calls comically loud from the couch.

“Yeah, we’re busy,” Tuck chimes in.

I roll my eyes. “Lazy assholes,” I grumble. I walk to the door with the beer in my hand and open it.

My brow furrows when I look past the doorway.

Harper’s standing on the porch. That part isn’t weird. She comes over to visit Scarlett pretty often.

What is weird are the two guys at her side.

“Uh, hey, Harper. What’s up?”

“Harper?” Sebastian’s voice sounds from the couch. “Ugh.”

“Don’t worry, Sebby,” she calls to him. Tuck snickers at the nickname. “I won’t be long. We’re just picking up Scarlett to go out.”

We.

Harper and two guys.

Picking up Scarlett.

To go out.

Two guys.

Two girls.

The aluminum can in my grip crinkles. Even if I weren’t good enough at math to help Scarlett with her calculus course, I could put two and two together here.

My gaze slices between the two guys. One medium height, one a little on the tall side. The taller guy has curly brown hair with a douchebag mustache. The shorter guy has shorter black hair and tattoos peeking from the collar of his flannel shirt. Both guys look like they belong in Brooklyn or something, writing blogs nobody reads while their parents pay their rent.

“Well, it’s cold outside, so come in,” I say. I wouldn’t mind the two guys freezing their asses off out there, but I wouldn’t treat Harper like that.

Even though Sebastian would.

Speaking of Sebastian, he’s walking toward us in the foyer. Tension radiates from him.

“Where you guys headed tonight?” he asks.

Harper grins, flicking a teasing glance at him. “What’s it to you?”

Sebastian crosses his arms. “Concern for my roommate. Going out with the likes of you, I’m aware she’s in bad hands.”

The taller of the two guys—mustache douchebag—chuckles, I guess thinking he’s defusing the tension. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.” He nods to me and Sebastian. “I’m Chris, by the way.”

My nostrils flare. This fucker thinks he’s going to take care of Scarlett?

My knuckles itch to collide with his face.

The other guy nods also. “Kyle,” he introduces himself.

Sebastian turns his gaze at Kyle. I feel like if I put my hand in front of Sebastian’s eyes, my skin would burn.

“You’re Harper’s date tonight, huh?” Sebastian asks, a dark humor in his tone.

Kyle breathes out a nervous laugh. It’d be impossible to miss the hostility Sebastian’s beaming at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Sebastian’s lips roll while his jaw ticks. “Good luck.”

Kyle again laughs nervously. “Uh, thanks?”

“Here I am, sorry,” Scarlett calls as she bounces down the steps.

She wears a light sweater that clings to her body and makes her tits look downright mouthwatering, along with a skirt and brown leggings.

I slide my gaze toward Chris. His eyes are lit up with appreciation—more than appreciation, hunger—and it makes my knuckles itch all the more.

If there’s one thing I can say for the guy, at least his reaction shows that he has taste. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to grab his tongue, pull it out of his mouth, and strangle him with it right now.

Watching Scarlett leave to go on a double date with some other guy just days after her pussy clenched around my finger, after I made her drench my hand with her arousal, after I fell asleep with her perfect tit cupped in my palm?

I don’t fucking like it.

Scarlett’s a beautiful girl, cool as hell, funny, smart, interesting … what do I expect, for her to be single forever? It’s a miracle she hasn’t been dating already. I’m sure all the guys in her classes look at her the same way Chris is looking at her right now.

“Ya’ll be safe and have a good time,” Tuck calls from the couch.

Scarlett pulls on her jacket. “See you, guys.”

“Don’t wait up,” Harper calls over her shoulder as the four of them step outside.

My hand tightens on the doorknob as I watch them walk away. Sebastian’s right next to me, no more at ease than I am.

Fucking Chris .

“Fucking Kyle .” Sebastian grits out the words as he stands on the other side of the heavy body-sized punching bag, laying blows into it while I hold it steady for him.

After Scarlett and Harper left with their dates, Sebastian and I both found ourselves restless. Full of nervous, twitchy energy. We decided to head to the gym to burn some of it off.

“What kind of name is that?” Sebastian follows up, his breath short from the exertion of the punches.

“Almost as bad as Chris ,” I agree, picking up my pair of boxing gloves. “Don’t know what their parents were thinking.”

We trade places. Sebastian holds the bag steady, and I unload into it, slamming my fist against the firm padding with all my might.

“Harper would go out with a tool like that,” Sebastian says, his brows pinching, looking to the side.

“There’s no way Scarlett and that Chris guy could have anything in common.” Punch, punch, punch. “Did you see that mustache?”

Sebastian huffs an acerbic laugh. “Lame as hell.”

My shoulder is aching, but I keep slamming my fist into the bag. At least it’s making me forget the temptation to grab my phone and hound Scarlett, checking in all night like a nutjob.

I plant my feet and swivel my hips, going all-out, peppering the bag with lefts and rights until my chest burns.

Once I’m spent, I bite the Velcro straps of my gloves and pull them off with a tug of my mouth.

Sebastian and I plop down onto a bench, chugging our water bottles.

I wonder what Scarlett and her date are doing right now.

“Let’s hit the bag some more.”