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TURN OFF THE LIGHTS

Hugh

NOVEMBER 1, 2003

“C OME ON , H UGH,” ONE OF THE GIRLS FROM ONE OF MY SISTER’S DANCE GROUPS coaxed a few hours later when she sidled up against me. “Dance with me.”

“Yeah, Hugh,” Gibs, who was three sheets to the wind and romancing his near-empty tequila bottle, mocked. “Dance with her.”

“Sorry, Lisa, I can’t,” I replied with a shake of my head. “I have a girlfriend.”

“Where is she?”

Hopefully at home .

“I have a girlfriend,” I repeated, peeling her fingers off my shirt and taking a safe step out of danger. “But he doesn’t,” I blurted, shoving my teammate Luke Casey toward her.

“Wow, Hugh, how generous,” Luke said dryly, while his eyes said, you better get me out of this, asshole .

“Oh wow.” She exhaled an impressed breath. “You are beautiful .”

“He’s so beautiful,” Gibs agreed, still mimicking her high-pitched voice while batting his lashes. “Such a beautiful, beautiful boy.”

Pulling a condom wrapper from her bra, she waved it in front of his face like it was some great prize, and then, before even Gibs had a chance to think of a comeback, she had her tongue down our teammate’s throat far enough to touch his tonsils.

Temporarily blindsided, Luke kept his hands up at his sides, completely fucking stunned, and when she slid a hand into her jeans, I had to look away.

“Jesus Christ.” Shaking my head, I turned to gape at Gibs. “What did we do?”

“You would think I’d find that sexy, but nope.” Shaking his head, Gibs slugged a mouthful of tequila straight from the bottle before cupping his hand around his mouth and shouting, “Lukey, hold three fingers up if you need help!”

Our teammate raised a hand, but instead of showing three fingers, he gave us the middle one.

And then, with his mouth still surgically attached to Lisa Nevin’s demon tongue, Luke hoisted her into his arms.

Without missing a beat, she hooked her legs around his waist as he walked them both toward the door.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hugo.” Gibs slapped my chest at the same time I slapped his. “I think he’s going to take her upstairs and ride her.”

“I think you might be right, lad,” I choked out, gripping the front of his shirt as tightly as he was gripping mine. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know about we, but you should definitely go upstairs and lock your door, lad.” He patted my shoulder. “Unless you want to sleep in another lad’s wet patch…”

I was bolting for the stairs before Gibs had a chance to finish his sentence.

Drunk and hazy, I clambered up the steps, not stopping until I reached my room—just in time to catch a glimpse of Luke and Lisa disappearing inside the spare room.

Relieved, I moved for my room anyway, deciding to check it and lock it before any other potential mishaps occurred.

When I reached the door and heard loud moaning and obvious sex noises, I was instantly pissed.

Throwing the door open, I stalked inside and flipped the light on, ready to lay into whatever asshole thought it was clever to fuck in my bed.

When the light came on, I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t breathe.

Rooted to the spot, while my brain struggled to comprehend what my eyes were seeing, I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.