“That always happens, bro,” he cackled, pointing his finger at me. “Answer it.”
“Nah. I’ll call her back later,” I persisted, stubbornly.
“Answer it,” he shouted, snatching at my phone, but I quickly moved it out of the way.
“Fuck off,” it stopped ringing, thank fuck, and I laid it on the couch beside me just as Robbie and Conrad, two of my teammates who lived in the frat house, strolled in, mouths stuffed with sandwiches. They cocked their eyebrows as they sauntered in, Robbie swallowing his sandwich before saying, “Just saw the cops down at the park.”
“Yeah? Since when was the park a crime scene?” I mocked. Actually, I forgot they were here. I hadn’t seen any, but maybe I wasn’t looking in the right place.
Conrad looked behind him as if he heard something, before adding, “They’re just relaxing in the sun, chilling out.”
Robbie continued, “Conrad tried chatting up the lady cop to get some privileged info out of her, but he failed.”
“I was only getting started, bro,” Conrad argued back, whacking larger Robbie on the arm, who then whacked him back.
The smile vanished from Ez’s face as he was concerned more than anyone about the cops hanging about, sticking noses into everyone’s business. We were all on the train when the alleged death took place, so we’re all witnesses and we have our stories down pact.
“They might never question us,” I said to all three guys, but I really meant the message to be for Ez, hoping that he’d chill out and not worry about it. Getting pent up and stressed out only makes you look guilty for something you never did.
“Fuck, I don’t even know who the dead person is,” Robbie replied, “I haven’t noticed anyone missing. Have you?”
I was about to answer when we fell silent at the sound of short, sharp cries of a girl getting fucked, and the guys glanced around to see where it was coming from.
The games room sliding door was partially open, and Robbie poked his head inside, then bellowed, “Eoi! Keep it down,” then slid the door shut.
“Which one is it?” Ez asked with a mischievous grin.
“Cole and that blond chick,” he pointed out.
“What’s the point of a fucking bedroom if they fuck in there,” I mumbled in a bad mood, not because they’re fucking, but because the guilt of ignoring my mom was eating away at me.
“You’ve fucked chicks in there,” Ez pointed out, which was true, but I barely remember them.
The games room has large screens for gaming, but when you switch it to porn, especially that type designed to be addictive, it becomes pretty stimulating, and fucking any pretty girl hanging around will do.
I didn’t like being addicted to anything, including porn, sex, and dope, because I liked to be in control one hundred percent of the time. But I’ll let myself have some fun now and again, as long as I pull my shit together quickly afterward.
The sliding door opened, and the girl stepped out, adjusting her clothes with blushing cheeks. She then noticed we were staring at her, so I shot her a dark scowl to let her know who was in charge. Don’t bother talking to me because I have no interest in being nice to her. Although if Cole wasn’t fixated on her, I might fuck later if I was in the mood.
“Huh,” Ez grunted, and I turned to read his face. “That’s the chick I saw earlier.”
“And?” I shrugged casually as he acted like it was some revelation that the girl Ez saw earlier on campus was the same girl Cole just fucked. It’s a small world and an even smaller college, especially since we’re not operating at full throttle yet.
“Knows the Boleyn girl,” he said as if that was important. So what?
“You’re fucking obsessed, bro. You need help. Like maybe you should go see the campus psychiatrist for obsessive tendencies,” I joked, although not really.
My comment went straight over the top of him, “But I don’t think they liked each other. You know how girls pretend to like each other and force niceness so they don’t reveal their insecurities?”
“No,” I replied flatly. “Delving into the psychology of women is something I’d never want to do.”
His attention was diverted again as he dropped his head down and started scrolling on his phone. “Just messaged Lev about Mullane.”
Right. We’re back on the dirt bike subject again.
Ez then pressed his ear against his phone, and I assumed he was calling Lev, until he spoke. His tone was soft, and I knew he was talking to Mom.
“Yeah, he’s here now,” he beamed at me, then shot me the middle finger as he held his phone to me to claim.
