Page 17

Tucker

I kick my feet up on the table and pound the rest of my beer.

Romeo burps loudly in my ear. Professor crushes a can in his hand and throws it onto the lawn at the Delta Sig house.

We’ve kept this pace for the last two hours, buzzed but not yet drunk.

I can hold my alcohol, and so can most of the brothers in the fraternity.

“You hooking up with Sam?” Romeo asks me.

I shake my head. “Nah. She’s my tutor.”

“Yeah, right,” Professor says, laughing. “That’s what Finch said before he got wifed up with Ella.”

Shawn Finch graduated last year. He was the star running back for the football team and a member of Delta Sig.

At one point, Professor shared a bedroom with him.

Finch was in a similar situation as me. He was failing, so his coach forced him into tutoring, and he ran off with his tutor.

Now, he plays for the Philadelphia Eagles.

I will not be like Finch.

No fucking way.

“No one is getting wifed up,” I shoot back, cracking open another can of beer. “Especially not me, assholes.”

Romeo chuckles, his gaze fixed on Professor. He mutters something I don’t hear over the obnoxious sound of my phone dinging. It’s a desperate-sounding text from Trent asking me to come home as soon as possible.

“He’s so dramatic,” I mumble, shoving the phone back into my pocket.

“Is Parker riding your ass again?”

I chug half of my beer. “No. Trent.”

“Dude, since you and your brother got caught switching places, they haven’t gotten off your ass.”

He refers to my friends and brother, who never seem to give up. They constantly nag me. I avoid my house as much as possible because of it, but I can’t run away from hockey.

“Parker thinks he’s my dad…” I growl in frustration, “… and Trent is just worried about me.” I finish another beer and drop the aluminum can on the table, sliding my legs to the floor. “I better go see what Trent wants.”

Romeo grunts before bringing his fingers to his lips to whistle at the sorority girls walking by the house. He beckons them forward with his finger, and they stare at us, giggling. Professor gets up to lean over the porch railing and tells the girls to come and keep them company.

I have to hold out my hand to maintain my balance when I stand. So, maybe I’m a little more drunk than buzzed.

“I’ll stop by later,” I promise, hoping Trent doesn’t have other plans for me.

Drinking on the porch is about the extent of what I had planned for my Friday night.

I had asked Sam to come to a party with me this weekend, and she shot me down.

That girl is driving me fucking crazy. The more she resists, the more I want her.

She’s crawled under my skin and found a place for herself in my mind.

I can’t stop thinking about her. No amount of liquor can get her out of my head.

Romeo slaps me on the back. “Later. Don’t forget the theme for tomorrow night.”

I smirk. “It’s so fucking lame, how can I forget?”

He shakes his head and laughs.

By the time I stumble into the house I share with my teammates, I can’t walk a straight line. Hours of drinking have finally caught up to me.

“You okay, Tuck?”

I glance over my shoulder to wave off Drake. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Drake is curled up on the couch with Bex’s friend, Taylor. Preston is on the other side of the sectional with Bex in a permanent lip lock. Since when did I sign up to live with a bunch of pussies? Or should I say pussy-whipped assholes?

“You smell like a bar,” Preston says between kissing Bex. “At the Delta Sig house again?”

“For fuck’s sake, not now, Prez,” I counter, ignoring him to climb the stairs to my bedroom.

At the end of the hall, I stop in front of my bedroom and reach up to grab the doorframe, looking at Trent from the entrance. “What’s so important I had to come right home?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, an irritated expression on his face. “Where were you?”

Does it ever end?

“With Romeo and Professor.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “You hang out with those guys too much.”

“Whatever, Dad,” I groan. “Get off my ass.”

“Get in here and close the door. This is important.”

I shoot him a confused look and sit across from my brother on my bed.

“Jemma is pregnant,” he blurts out.

My eyes and mouth widen in shock. “You knocked her up? Get the fuck out of here. Dad will flip the fuck out.”

“I used a condom.”

I lean forward, my head spinning, and rest my elbows on my thighs, covering my mouth with my hands, speaking between my fingers. “Are you sure you never fucked her without a condom?”

“No,” Trent says without hesitation, and then his demeanor changes as if he just realized something. “Wait, the first time we had sex, the condom slid off. But I didn’t come inside her. At least I don’t think I did.”

I laugh. “You fucked her that hard?”

He throws a pillow at my head, and I duck.

“Leave it to you to get your girl pregnant the first time you fuck her. What are you going to do about it?”

He shrugs. “What can I do? If she wants to keep the baby, I have to talk to Dad.”

“I don’t want to be there for that conversation.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “I wish this was all a dream. That Jemma didn’t just come here to tell me she’s pregnant. I’m always careful.”

“Not careful enough,” I point out.

I’m too drunk to have a meaningful conversation with anyone. It’s not like I have any wisdom to impart, anyway.

We sit silently for a moment before I say, “We should get a drink. I think you could use one.”

A drink is about all I’m capable of offering him right now.

“Or ten,” Trent jokes.

I slide off the mattress and stand before Trent, my hand extended to him. “C’mon, you need to get drunk.”

Do we celebrate the news?

My dad won’t be happy. Trent doesn’t even look happy. He seems more in denial than anything. I’d probably drink myself into oblivion if the roles were reversed.

We’re too young to have kids.

Trent hooks his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug, and I hold him tight, knowing he needs me. I can feel his body tremble as he sucks in a deep breath.

He’s scared.

I would be, too.

I’m afraid for him.

I can’t even care for myself without help, let alone another person.