“I’m fine, Covee,” he said when he passed me. “I know how to deal with guys like Bill. I’ve had lots of practice.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but he was gone before I could. I turned back to see Weston typing something on his phone. His jaw was still stiff as he peered down at the screen.
“Weston,” I said.
His head shot up in attention. “I know. We won’t be here long.”
“It’s not the party,” I told him. “It’s your team. Your coaches… they’re not just messing with you. This is bigger than the favor they asked you. I don’t think it’s just some initiation. They want to scare the living daylights out of Dakota for some reason.”
“I know-” He started, but his phone ringing interrupted us. He sucked in a breath before answering. “I’m here. Just give me a minute, would you?”
“Who was that?” I asked.
Weston came closer and placed his hand on my elbow. “You want to stay in the truck or come inside?”
I frowned. “I want to stay with you.”
“I have to meet someone here. Someone who can help me,” he explained. “And then, I’m yours.”
“Who’s this someone?” I watched him look past my shoulders at the party. His hesitation let me know he was searching for an excuse. “More secrets?”
He grabbed my hand. “Look, I told you, you are done with my mess.”
“You also told me we’d talk about this,” I reminded him while squeezing his fingers when he tried to tug me towards the house. “What Bill did to Dakota isn’t an isolated event. Can we slow down and consider our options? Figure out how to best solve this.”
“I’m handling it,” Weston promised while pulling me forward.
I wanted to protest more, but the loudness of the party surrounded us, so it was nearly impossible to hear my thoughts. Weston pushed past people on the lawn. Most moved out of his way when they saw him. Some stared with silly grins and pulled out their phones, excited to get a glimpse of Westbrooke’s poster boy quarterback. I positioned myself behind his shoulder to shield myself from any photos.
When we entered the house, Weston went straight for the kitchen. His eyes scanned the place like he’d been here before. A few people greeted him with smiles and occasionally offered fist pumps.
“What’s up, West,” Callie from our design class greeted. She wore a cropped jersey with high-waisted shorts. Her hand held out a cup that Weston took. He sniffed it and then placed it on the counter.
“Where is he?” Weston asked her in a hard tone.
Callie shrugged, giving him an innocent look. “Are you always this rude after losing a game? Honestly, it’s not a big deal.”
“Callie, I’m serious,” Weston told her through gritted teeth. “Upstairs, basement, backyard?”
Her eyes trailed over to me. She scanned my body, starting at the top until her eyes got to my hand interlocked with Weston’s. Callie peered at it curiously.
“You know how much Lawrence loves scavenger hunts,” she said with a mischievous look. “Why don’t you pick a side of the house and start looking?”
“I’m tired of you two and your games,” Weston said.
Callie gave him a fake-pout and patted his cheek. “Oh, you poor baby. Things are slipping through the cracks, aren’t they?”
“Forget it,” Weston pushed her hand away.
“Who’s Lawrence?” I asked as Weston led me through the thick crowd of people. The music drowned out my question. When we reached the staircase, Weston turned around to bend close to my ear.
“Wait for me down here,” he ordered in a raised voice. It was still difficult for me to hear, so I glanced at his mouth to piece together his sentence.
I frowned and placed my hand on his chest. His heart pounded with nerves and adrenaline. “No way. Your heart is racing. You’re panicking and you need someone to anchor you. Your Eve, remember? Let me.”
“No,” he said with finality in his voice. “I don’t want Lawrence to see you.”
A drunk couple pushed past us to start up the staircase. The guy stumbled on the first step, causing the girl to giggle and spilled her drink on my shoes as she helped him up. I groaned and moved my foot back and forth to get rid of the excessive beer.
