Jace follows my gaze. “I mean, he is her boyfriend, and this is a college frat party. He’s probably just making sure she’s havinga good time. Getting shit-faced at these things is practically a prerequisite.”
“We’renot getting shit-faced,” I point out.
“Yeah, because we’re athletes who care about winning tomorrow and not getting our asses kicked by Coach for showing up hungover on gameday.”
I shake my head, because I’m barely listening. “She never drinks this much. Ever.”
“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,” Avery says, her tone soft as she touches my arm in a way I know is meant to be comforting but isn’t.
“Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe she hardly drinks when she’s with you because she feels like she has to behave?” Chris chimes in. “Maybe she’s actually a wild child at heart.”
I clench my jaw, wishing he’d go back to sucking face with his girlfriend.
“Yeah,” Jace claps a hand over my shoulder, hiding his smirk. “She’s just having fun. Besides, she’s got Ethan to take care of her, and I’m sure he’ll have no problem getting her to bed safely and tucking her in.”
“Do you want me to fucking throttle you?” I say, hyper focused on Ethan’s wandering hands that have found the sliver of bare skin between the waistband of her shorts and her top.
“Does he have to touch her so fucking much?” I growl.
The guys turn and stare in their direction.
“Remember when I had a plan to use the Love Playbook, but you insisted on playing the supportive friend instead?” Chris asks.
I flip him the bird.
“Just remember your endgame,” West chimes in.
I sigh and crack my neck from left to right.
There’s just something about Ethan I don’t trust—some intangible thing I can’t put my finger on. Then again, I’m not exactly an unbiased judge of character in this case. I’d loathe anyone she’s with that isn’t me, and he’s no exception. Still, every time his hands shift to another inch of skin he shouldn’t be touching, or his lips brush the shell of her ear as he whispers something only she can hear, I want to drown myself in a vat of battery acid.
I groan, shoving a hand through my hair. “I’m going fucking insane.”
“I know we’re all keeping it low-key because we have a game tomorrow, and I’m your captain, so Ishouldbe encouraging you to stay sober,” Damon says, “but maybe you should drink your beer. A couple won’t hurt. At this point, you’ll be distracted tomorrow anyway. I think they’d actually help more than hurt.”
“No way.” I shake my head.
“You’d be fine—” Jace starts.
“It’s not about our game,” I cut him off. “She’s drinking like a fish, which means I need to stay sober and have a completely clear head in case she needs me.”
“Isn’t that what her boyfriend’s for?” Jace mumbles and I barely refrain from strangling him.
Chris claps a hand over my shoulder, pity swimming in the pale blue of his eyes as he focuses on me. “Let us help you out, brother.”
“How?” I narrow my eyes, unsure of whether I should take his advice.
“Let’s join them.” He shrugs. “Stoke the fire a little bit.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, and he stares at me like I’m stupid.
“They’re playing Truth or Dare.”
“So?” I shrug.
“Dude, Truth or Dare is the original barometer for testing out whether there’s chemistry with a chick.”
West frowns. “Wouldn’t that be spin the bottle?”
