Dylan: Fuck, your ankles are kind of hot.
I smirk, trying to hold in my laugh at his stupidity. That’s so dumb.
Cecily: You can practice your fetish on me.
Ten minutes later.
Dylan: I’m coming over right now.
I know he’s joking, so I don’t reply. I sit at the dining table and smash out a few assignments. Homework and projects are sometimes worse than my own business negotiations and meetings. Those are always to the point; college seems opinion-based. If the professor is a dickwad, then the best grade depends on how much I kiss ass or beg. Hate it.
It’s after midnight when I finally fall into bed, but I’m still restless. I stay in bed anyway and mindlessly scroll until I fall asleep.
Friday is a few days away, and I need to tell Dylan I’m coming to the party.
19
Dylan
The way that Rocky is wrapping his stick has me concerned, but I know better than to say anything.
Scott gives me a death glare, so I know whatever the fuck is going on with those two, I need to stay the hell out of it.
Westley never has drama, so I nod at him.
He just looks at me, too, and I don’t think I want to know what the fuck is going on anymore. I focus on putting on my gear and hype myself for the game.
I have a bit of downtime, so I check my phone, surprised to see Cecily has texted me.
Cecily: Coming to Rocky’s tonight
Cecily: See you there
That’s not fucking normal, but I don’t think much about it. Maybe she wants to suck my dick again. The thought of coming in her mouth again makes me put my phone away. I shake off the thought, leaving the locker room to hit the ice and do somestretches. My ankle’s not fully healed, so I’m warming the bench for the night.
I can tell Rocky has some shit going on. During the game, I watched him throw punches with a few guys and score three times. He’s on fire, but not in a good way. He’s got demons, and I know we’ll see them come out to play at the party tonight.
Just as I assumed, Rocky is screaming for the entire party to hear. He’s taking body shots off of Michelle Swift, and when he starts munching on her cleavage, I drink the rest of my beer and ignore it.
Hands cover my eyes, and instead of panicking, I relax. I smell her perfume, the softness of her palms.
“Guess who?” she whispers.
“A cow,” I say, and she pushes me. I laugh, turning around. “Hey, Moo.”
She has a tall blonde friend analyzing our interaction, unamused. Then our eyes meet, and she smiles.
“You must be Dylan,” the blonde says.
I glance at Cecily, then back at her. “Want a drink?”
“Yes.”
“Ce?” I question, raising a brow at her.
She shakes her head, and her friend tugs on her hand. “Ce, you promised one drink!”
Cecily closes her eyes. “I did, but I’m breaking that promise.”
