“The truth, then.” When neither of us says anything, he holds up his hands in surrender. “Scout’s honor.”
Chapter 23
Bastian
LAST FRIDAY
Agony Hollow doesn’t have many bars where students hang out. I figure it will take less than an hour to track Kai down in one of them.
I’m wrong.
It only takes fifteen minutes.
The heat, noise, and stench of The Hollow Point enfold me the moment I push through the busy bar’s entrance.
“Kai, Kai, Kai, Kai—Whoo!”
The Friday night beer pong competition was what made me think to try this bar first.
A crowd is gathered near the back, chanting Kai’s name with the fervor of young drunk people. I ease through the press of bodies, twisting to avoid contact. A student from my class gives me a double take, but my dark gray hoodie and jeans are the perfect disguise. Even if someone does recognize me, I’ve been in this bar enough times that my presence won’t rouse too much suspicion.
My shoes peel up off the sticky floor with each careful step as I make my way to the quieter, darker end of the bar, near a heap of packing crates the staff haven’t gotten around to clearing out yet. The sound system is blaring out indie pop loud enough to rattle the speaker strung up in the corner nearest me.
As I drag the last open bar stool deeper into the dark, the girl seated beside me slips off her stool and pushes her hips between her date’s thighs. He immediately grabs the back of her neck and starts kissing her.
They still haven’t come up for air when the bartender delivers their drinks.
At least they won’t remember me.
Probably won’t remember each other either.
I order a beer and watch the beer pong game.
More specifically, I watch Kai.
He’s standing at the far end of the beer-stained table, a red Solo cup in hand, grinning like he hasn’t a care in the world. His hair is disheveled, cheeks flushed. He’s well past tipsy and swiftly careening toward black-out drunk.
And fuck, how magnificent he is when he’s unraveling.
That mask he always wears—the ‘look at me now’ sneer and jock bravado—slips. He laughs too hard, speaks too loudly, and keeps bumping into his teammates.
And his phone barely stays in his pocket longer than five minutes before he pulls it out to check his messages.
Again…and again.
From the way his face darkens, he’s expecting something he’s not getting.
An apology?
Another angry DM to fuel that fire burning so incandescently in his eyes?
I wonder if Haven messaged him after she texted me, or if she’s playing hard to get.
…you were right about everything…
Her message couldn’t have come at a better time. Not only for Melissa’s sake.
For mine. For hers. Forhis.
