Page 52 of Offside Attraction

I didn’t think he was into guys.

Fuck me—like it’s written on the forehead.

I roll my eyes, taking another drag, but I can feel the tension now. Like he’s watching me more closely than before. Like he’s waiting.

“You’re full of shit, Zach.”

“Maybe,” he says, voice dropping just a notch. “Or maybe I’m just being honest.”

I shift slightly, unsure how to respond. His words hang between us, teasing and charged.

What the fuck is going on?

Zach’s cool and all, but I don’t feel that way about him. And for someone younger than me, he’s got a dangerous way with words—like he knows exactly what to say to get under your skin.

“You ever let anyone figure you out, Dakota?” he asks, stepping closer. Our arms brush. His voice is soft now, but there’s a challenge in it.

Like he’s testing me.

I meet his gaze, narrowing my eyes. “Depends on who’s asking.”

He chuckles, a low sound that makes my stomach twist with discomfort. “Well… maybe I am.”

For a moment, it feels like the air between us shifts, the silence stretching too thin. Zach’s eyes flick down to the cigarette in my hand.

“Mind if I get a hit?” he asks, casual—but there’s that same playful edge underneath.

I hesitate, then hand it over. Our fingers brush as he takes it from me. He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings it to his lips, taking a slow drag before handing it back. The smirk on his face is impossible to miss.

“Thanks,” he says, still watching me. Still too damn close.

I shake my head, a small smirk tugging at my lips despite myself. He grins—wide, unreadable—before finally stepping back.

Iheadbackintothe party, the frustration and anger from earlier dulled after more than a few cigarettes. Zach left not long after we talked—well,after he talked. I mostly listened.

The living room is packed. Drunk teens sway against each other, music pounding through the walls. As I push through the sweaty bodies, a familiar figure catches my eye—laughing, dancing with another girl.

My stomach drops.

I shove my way closer, the face becoming clearer with every step.

“Harper?” I call, grabbing my stepsister by the arm and pulling her around to face me.

She startles, fear flashing in her eyes. “Hey, Dakota,” she says weakly.

I turn to her friend—Jenn, I think—as she looks away, embarrassed.

“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” I ask, my voice sharp.

I drag Harper out of the house before either of them can answer. Once we’re outside, she yanks her arm free and spins on me.

“I’m gonna ask again,” I say. “What the fuck are you doing here with Jenn?”

“Who’s Jenn?” she snaps.

I blink. “Your friend.”

“You meanGwen?” she scoffs, crossing her arms. “God, you’re such an asshole. You don’t even know my best friend’s name.”