Page 9

Chapter eight

Trayton

A s I step into Dan’s house, the beats of “Sicko Mode” by Travis Scott pulse through the speakers. The door barely clicks shut behind me before my friend Manny thrusts a beer into my hand, then turns to grab two more for Kal and Bray. We weave through the bustling crowd, exchanging backslaps and greetings with familiar and unfamiliar faces alike. That’s the life of a devil—respected, resented, and desired by everyone. This last thought is confirmed when I feel sharp claws, quite literally, digging into my neck as a petite girl, no taller than five feet, clings to me. She tilts her head back to meet my gaze, her eyes sparkling as she takes in my six-foot-two frame. Her smile brightens even more when I flash her a grin. Everyone at this school knows I’m gay. Girls just don’t do it for me. I’ve never felt the urge to try, and I’ve never even come close to wanting to. However, a few years ago, in a moment of drunken frustration, I kissed a girl. It was an experience that made my skin crawl. There was nothing wrong with her—she was quite pretty. But her lips were coated in this sticky gloss that made every movement feel like a struggle. Her tongue was small and hesitant, and the moment her soft hands cupped my face, I felt myself recoil. It felt so profoundly wrong. Even now, I get goose bumps thinking about it, and not in a good way. Yet, girls—or should I say puck bunnies—seem unfazed. They’ll try anything to get what they want. Anything to sleep with me. Especially after a couple of years ago when a guy I slept with sent around the dick pic I sent him as if it was meant to hurt my feelings. My DMs blew up, and when I say blew up, my actual phone froze and glitched out. It couldn’t handle all the notifications. Since then, they don’t seem to understand. I only want dick. Some even offered me their ass as if that would make it okay or offered to wear a strap on. I can be a man whore, but I still need the male connection. It’s like these girls think I’m desperate. Off the top of my head, I can think of at least five guys I could call up now, and they’d be in my dorm, bent over as if they were waiting for a prostate examination.

“Tray, Tray,” she singsongs in what she believes is a cute voice, but it’s anything but. The sound makes me want to crawl out of my own skin and hide. Although my thoughts might paint me as a class-A cunt, I pride myself on being very nice to the ladies.

“Casey.” I beam at her, but her face instantly drops.

“It’s Katie,” she corrects, her frown deepening. Despite my clear mistake, I choose to ignore it and lean down so my lips ghost her ear. Her breath catches as I whisper.

“Do you see that big, tall, brooding guy behind me? The one who looks like he’s ready to choke-slam anyone who dares to step in his path?” Katie inclines her head to look behind me, and then her eyes meet mine, widened with what seems to be a mix of excitement and curiosity. She keeps her deer-in-the-headlights gaze locked on me as she nods eagerly.

“He’s a bit…” I pause, searching for the perfect words to describe Kal—moody, an asshole with a perpetual stick up his ass. “Sad,” I finally say, going with the simplest yet most fitting description.

“Oh,” she murmurs, her brows furrowing as a look of sadness crosses her face. Despite this, she keeps her eyes locked on mine, clearly eager and hanging on my every word.

I make a point of glancing around the party, taking in the scene before meeting Katie’s eyes again. “Out of all the girls here, I just know you’re the one for him,” I say, keeping my voice sincere.

She gasps softly, placing a hand on her chest. “Me?” she says, stunned.

“You,” I confirm with a smile. Her cheeks turn crimson as she tips her head back to look at Kal, who’s standing behind me. She then leans in closer to me and whispers, “But he doesn’t talk to any girls anymore. My friend Cass tried so many times, and he shut her down every single time.” She frowns, clearly puzzled.

Kal really needs to sort himself out. I don’t know what’s gotten into him over the last couple of years. He’s always been a broody asshole, but not to this extent. He never turned down girls before. Bray and I try to leave him to his own devices because, well, like I said, he’s a broody asshole. But I’m definitely talking to Bray later about sitting down with Kal because this needs to stop.

“I think you can make him better,” I say with a wink, standing back up to my full height. She nods eagerly, a smile spreading across her face. As I walk away, I hear her innocent, petite voice call out, “Kal?” I smile to myself, biting my lip, and keep moving.

Within seconds, Bray catches up to me, laughing beside me. “He’s so getting you back for that,” he says, amusement clear in his voice.

I turn my head quickly, and instantly, Kal’s eyes lock onto mine. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are squinted, like he’s planning every possible way he could kill me. I give him a wink and mime, “Loosen up,” before turning my attention back to Brayden.

“He needs to get his dick wet. Maybe it’ll stop him from being such a moody prick at practice.” I smirk.

Brayden looks behind me at Kal, frowns, and then shifts his gaze back to me. “He’s still not himself, is he?” he says, more to himself than to me.

“No, he’s not. And we need to get to the bottom of whatever the hell happened,” I reply, determination in my voice.

Brayden nods. “We’ll talk to him soon.”

I slap Brayden on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get some shots.” I grin, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the kitchen.

Three shots and two beers later, I’m feeling relaxed—not really buzzed, but definitely more at ease as I sit on the kitchen counter, laughing and joking with Bray and Kal, who now smiles, after he, in his own kind way, told Katie to do one. Katie looked at me helplessly, like I had the answers on how she could get a hockey player’s dick inside her, but I shrugged and gave her my most innocent, tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s Cope?” Bray asks, scanning the crowd in front of us.

I shrug. “Beats me.” Kal pulls out his phone, frowning down at it, typing away. “Who you texting?” I ask, trying to lean over to see. Kal tilts his phone away and slowly lifts his head to look at me.

“Your fucking dad, now fuck off,” he snaps.

“Good luck getting an answer from him,” I retort, not playing into his sarcasm and clear annoyance.

“Kal, what is going on with you lately? We’re your brothers. You know you can talk to us,” Brayden says. I tip my bottle, gulping down a few mouthfuls while side-eyeing Kal to check his expression. We can read each other like a book, and the minute Bray asks that question, Kal’s shoulders go rigid, like it’s the one question he doesn’t want to answer.

“I’m good, boys. Just trying to keep my head in the game and stay out of any drama,” he says in a bored tone, trying to sound unbothered by anything or anyone, including Brayden’s question.

“Then why are you standing there all rigid, like someone just stuck a second stick up your ass?” I deadpan.

Kal takes a visibly deep breath, his jaw clenching as he tries to maintain his composure. His eyes flicker with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something he’s clearly not ready to share. He finally exhales, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, but the tension is still plain to see.

Brayden and I exchange a look, silently agreeing that we need to get to the bottom of whatever is bothering Kal. But for now, we let it slide, knowing that pushing him too hard might only make things worse.

Kal’s phone pings, and he pulls it out, reading a message. “Cope will be ten minutes,” he says, placing his phone back in his pocket.

“So, you were texting Cope.”

“Yes, Dad. Is that okay?” Kal sighs, picking up his beer, which he’s only taken two sips of since we’ve been here, and gulps the rest of it. He slams the empty beer bottle on the table and sighs deeply. “Sorry,” he mumbles, putting out his hand for me to grab, “I’m just tired.” Brayden’s eyes bounce from Kal’s to mine, and he raises his eyebrows.

“It’s cool,” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him in for a bro hug. Soon after, we hear a few cheers coming from the front of the house, and then we hear Cope’s voice.

We also see a swarm of girls gravitating out of the kitchen, which causes me, Kal, and Brayden to look at each other, momentarily pausing, and then we burst out laughing.

“Good luck to him.” Kal grins. Moments later, Cope struts through the kitchen door, a calm smile on his face. He loves the attention from girls, and he has one under each of his arms. Before I can even see who it is, Brayden erupts into laughter, his head flying back, and even Kal chuckles beside me. When I finally see what they do, I laugh so hard my eyes begin to water.

Katie stares at us, a smug grin on her face, not even caring that we’re laughing. She literally resembles the cat who got the cream right now. The pride radiates from her. These puck bunnies are wild as hell.

Just as the laughter dies down, the door swings open again, and in walks Daxton. My smile fades instantly, replaced by a scowl. What the hell is he doing here? My blood starts to boil as I watch him saunter in, acting like he owns the place.

“Trayton, calm down,” Brayden says, noticing my reaction. But I can’t. Daxton’s presence is like a red rag to a bull. And I’m the bull. He’s the last person I wanted to see tonight.

Daxton catches my eye and smirks, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s gotten under my skin. I clench my fists, trying to keep my anger in check. Kal notices and steps closer, his expression turning serious.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns, his voice low.

But it’s too late. I can feel the rage bubbling up inside me, ready to explode. Daxton’s smirk widens, and I know he’s doing this on purpose, just to get a rise out of me.

“Why the hell are you here, Daxton?” I growl, my voice barely controlled.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Just here to have a good time, Trayton. No need to get all worked up.”

I take a step forward, but Kal grabs my arm, holding me back. “Not worth it, Tray,” he says firmly.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. But the sight of Daxton, standing here with that smug look on his face, makes it nearly impossible. This night just took a turn for the worse, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my cool.