Page 42 of The Deception You Weave

She's pretty, sure, but there's not even a hint of interest on my part right now.

"No, not really," I state coldly.

"O-oh."

"Is there anything you wanted, or can I continue?"

"I just want to get to know you a little better." Her fingers walk up toward my shoulder and I just about manage to refrain myself from slapping her hand away.

"I'm good, thanks. Have a good night." Shrugging out of her hold, I march toward the backdoor in the hope of escaping.

Why exactly did I think coming here tonight would be better than being home alone?

I get more than a few curious glances as I step down off the deck but thankfully, no one else tries to talk to me. If anything, they take a wide berth. Probably for the best. My fists curl at the thought of swinging it into some motherfucker’s face.

Only problem is that the football team—our captain—isn't here seeing as it's the first game of the season tomorrow. They'll have been under strict instructions from Coach to be good little boys and go to bed early.

I find an empty chair and fall down into it, lifting the bottle to my lips.

My cell buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out I see a message from Ezra, opening it, I find a video above his message.

Ez: You didn't waste any time.

I hit play on the video to discover a replay of what just happened in the house as whatever her name pressed herself up against me. Only, it ends before I shoot her down and instead lingers on me looking down at her.

"Fucking hell," I mutter, putting it back into my pocket.

I don’t have the patience to deal with desperate jersey chasers tonight.

By the time my bottle is empty, I've got a nice buzz going but I'm still not in the mood to party. Not even a little bit.

Throwing the bottle across the yard, I watch as it shatters against the wall, making a few girls scream in shock but I don't hang around long enough to see what anyone does about it.

My body still aches with every step I take, but it's much easier to move than it was at the beginning of the week, the vodka sure helps too.

It's not long until the sound of the music behind me begins to fade and the darkness of the street beyond engulfs me.

* * *

When I finally drag my eyes open the next day, the sun is already high in the sky and my head steadily pounds while my muscles continue to ache. If I didn't know better, I might think I partied hard last night. But the truth is far from that.

The walk back here last night took me longer than I want to remember. I should have called a car, but the silence was welcome, so I just kept going.

I didn't look at my cell again for fear of the video blowing up. It looked bad. I shouldn't care. But I can't help thinking that Letty is going to see it. Again, I really shouldn't care.

With a groan, I roll over and shove my head into my pillow. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Reaching my arm over the side of the bed, I find my pants and pull my cell out.

As predicted, my screen is full of notifications from all the tags. Clearing them all away. I look at the time.

Almost two.

I fall back and stare up at the ceiling.

The game is going to start soon. I should be there in the locker room with the team getting a pep talk from Coach about starting the season the way we mean to go on.

They won the championship last year, and there's no reason not to go all the way this year either. Although it would probably help if I were there and not having a pity party for one in bed instead.