I’ll protect Cull above everything.
Even if that means being the one who has to go.
Thirty-Six
Hudson
The party at Matt’s is in full swing by the time Cullen and I walk through the door. After I picked him up, we grabbed a quick dinner so we wouldn’t be drinking on empty stomachs. Matt invited a few of us to crash after the party, which means neither of us has to drive, and we can let loose.
“Start us off, Hud,” Archer urges, grinning over the rim of his red plastic cup.
Six of us are sitting around the dining table shooting the shit. The rest of the house is packed wall to wall with people dancing and grinding, all while the music vibrates through the floorboards. Someone decided we weren’t drunk enough, so Cullen suggested a drinking game. I usually dodge this game, never wanting to risk exposing my closeted inexperience.
But now? The cards are on the table, figuratively speaking, and I’m kind of excited.
“Anything goes?” I ask, wanting to be sure we’re not holding back. I know I’m setting myself up for some embarrassing confessions, but these guys have been my closest friends for years. I’m not worried about being judged.
“Yup. Anything goes, babe,” Cullen confirms, his arm slung across the back of my chair, fingers grazing my shoulder.
I’d been hesitant to show affection when we first got here, but Cull ripped the Band-Aid off, kissing me stupid in the middle of the living room.
No one blinked an eye, and that put me at ease.
“Alright,” I say, smirking. “Never have I ever been pantsed during a championship game.”
Cullen gapes at me. “Seriously? Attacking me first?”
“You were easy pickings. Just drink.” I’m laughing hard, remembering Cull running around the goalie box, shorts around his knees, trying to keep the ball from entering our net.
He gives me a look that promises payback, then tips his cup back. “Fine. Never have I ever projectile puked on a referee.”
The whole table bursts out laughing.
“Hardy har har,” I snark. “I chugged a sports drink at halftime, and it didn’t mix with all the running.”
They’re still laughing. Honestly, even I can admit it’s kind of funny now. That ref had it out for us anyway, so maybe it was his karma.
I take a long sip of my beer and wait for the next round.
We go around the table, roasting each other with every question. The buzz I’ve got going feels warm and easy.
The game circles back to Matt. “Never have I ever taken it up the ass. And I ask that with all the bro-love and respect in the world,” he adds, pointing between Cullen, Archer, and me with a crooked grin.
I snort, just buzzed enough not to care. I take a drink and raise an eyebrow at Matt like,that’s all you’ve got?, while Archer drains his entire cup.
Everyone just stares at Archer, amused.
“What? I like getting fucked.” He shrugs unapologetically.
Same, my dude. Same.
All eyes swivel to Cull, waiting to see what he’ll do.
“Do fingers count?” he asks. “We haven’t gotten the chance to switch things up yet.”
My eyebrows fly to my hairline, cracking up at his blunt honesty.
Matt points his cup at Cullen. “Fingers are a whole different category. I’ll let a girl shove as many as she wants up there as long as she hits that magic button.”
