Page 119 of Filthy Little Pretties

I shrug, moving toward our equipment and grabbing an oar. “I don’t know. Donovan said he’s not texting her back either. He’s obviously still pissed about the other day. He needs to get the fuck over it. Last I checked, I let him get way more hits in than I took.”

Kai nods and grabs his oar, walking next to me down the wooden dock. His sneakers squeak against the wet wood, making us both look down.

“I hate wearing shoes in the water,” he complains.

“Better than your feet freezing,” I answer, squatting down to put my oar inside the tied-off boat.

It rocks gently as the water makes small waves caused by the wake from the other boats out on the water. Coach yells at another pair in the water who aren’t doing what he wants, but I can’t really pay attention.

“I mean…you can’t exactly blame him,” Kai muses behind me, calling my attention.

My head swings around, a cold breeze making my crew sweatshirt billow. “What?”

He hands his oar to me to put in the boat and crosses his arms over his chest. “Liam. Can you blame him for not wanting to be here? It’s bad enough he had to lose the girl—”

“But here he’s reminded that he’s the number two…it’s even on his fucking shirt. I know.”

I don’t blame him. All this time I’ve been focused on Donovan, on winning her, but now for the first time I’m scared I’ve lost the only other person who knows me—sometimes better than myself. Everything is beginning to feel complicated. More so than I’d like. Lowering down into the front of the boat after Kai, I look to the side, out at the murky water, feeling like an ass. I treated him like shit, too.

“Hey. You know I’m sorry, right? I lost my head. Fucked up. But she makes me a monster.”

I hear Kai laugh quietly as I take a deep breath.

“But I shouldn’t have lost my shit on you. Your friendship is important to me. And you’re important to her. So, we good?”

He pats my shoulder, and I turn back to the front. Remorse isn’t well practiced on me, but I’m feeling it. We push away from the dock and begin to paddle to our start point when he adds, “I feel like we should hug it out? Maybe kiss and make up?”

He doesn’t even get the whole sentence out before we’re both laughing, loudly.

“Fuck you, man. Let’s row.”

I walk into her dimly lit room, shutting the door behind me quietly, as she looks up from her book. She’s laid out on her bed, on top of the blanket, one knee bent, her head propped up on her pillow. She smiles at me as I toe off my shoes and walk to her bed, depleted by my day and so fucking relieved to be with her.

“Got past Vic, huh?”

Crawling on top of the bed, I grimace. “He’s not a big fan of mine.”

“Can you blame him?” she teases.

A whoosh of breath leaves me as I bury my head into the crook of her neck and smother her with my frame, forcing her body to arch as I wrap my arms around her back.

“Oh, baby. Bad practice? Or bad practice with Liam?” she says sweetly, peppering kisses to the side of my head and hugging me back.

“He didn’t show,” I mumble into her neck. “Have you talked to him?”

She rubs her hands up and down my back, and I relax a little more into my Donovan pillow.

“No. I was giving him space. He’ll call me when he’s ready.”

I groan, and she laughs, but I hug her tighter.

“Am I smushing you?”

Her chest vibrates as she laughs. “Yes. But it’s okay. You’re like my big Grey bear.”

Kissing her neck, I pull my arms from around her and press my palms onto the bed, lifting myself off her, only to lower down into a push-up to give a quick peck, before I roll to my back, staring up at the ceiling.

“He skipped out, huh? Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”