Page 14 of Striking Range

Skylar rolls his eyes, treating me as he would a dramatic child, as he waves me off with a flick of his wrist. “Oh, please. I doubt I would have fucked Kelly.”

“You doubt? So, there was a chance.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement.

An anger I’ve never felt before is roaring inside of me at the thought, at his attitude. Skylar watches me for a moment, his own anger shifting far too quickly into interest.

Now I’m picturing a devastating scene—one in which I am not present for another of Skylar’s firsts, but Kelly is.

“Evie.” The way he says my name… It’s as if he’s trying to placate me. To tame me. “Why are you so worked up? You’ve never shown this much interest in my sex life. You’ve never cared so much.”

I laugh at him, harsh and panicked. “What sex life? You never even looked in the direction of a girl before, and not for lack of options, either. I can’t care if there’s nothing to care about.”

I’m treading far too close to the truth now; the liquor is making me too honest, terrifyingly open.

Skylar tilts his head, observing me as he would a wild animal. “That you know of.”

“Sorry?”

He grins as he says, “What, you assume I tell you everything?”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I take a few slow, careful steps toward him. “I know you tell me everything. And you just told me that kiss with Kelly was your first kiss. Don’t try to play with me, Skylar.”

His grin falls away faster than it appeared, leaving behind a familiar, expressionless cruelty—the look of a deadly pet I’ve allowed to coil too tightly around my throat.

He closes the distance between us. “I don’t appreciate you acting like my father, Everett. You don’t get a say in who I fuck, or when I fuck them. Stop interfering in my life. I don’t go around cockblock you, do I?”

Well, no. He doesn’t. Actually, now that I think about it, what right do I have? What the fuck am I doing?

Not only am I unable to have him in any other way than how I already do, but he’s never given a shit about my actions or how many people I’m sleeping with. Clearly, he’s never been… interested in me. Not in the way I sometimes look at him.

Taking a step back, suddenly filled with a dejection I’ve never truly experienced before, my eyes fall to his sock-covered feet. Guilt and shame flame my cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I murmur. “I’ll go get Kelly.”

Before I can turn away, I feel his warm palm on my bicep, stopping me.

“Evie,” he says. I do not move; I do not meet his gaze. “Don’t go.”

We stand in silence, an awkward tension filling the bathroom. I can hear his breathing. Inhale, exhale.

Skylar doesn’t let go of my arm, and I don’t pull away. I allow his warmth to seep into my skin; I allow myself to enjoy it. In the morning, I can blame it on the liquor and poor judgment, the same way I have every other time we’ve gotten wasted and I’ve let myself stare at him for a moment too long.

“I… we still have a few minutes,” Skylar says, hand squeezing my skin.

“Okay.” The word leaves me as a quiet surrender, something scared and startled.

“What’s up with you?” he asks. “Hm? You’re acting different.”

As I gather the courage to look at him, his eyes seem to be pleading—asking me a question I cannot decipher. I can feel his breath on my face from where he stands; I can smell the alcohol.

“I don’t know.” I can’t seem to speak above this whisper, as if there is a spell that will break if I do.

I watch his jaw as it clenches and unclenches; I see the muscles of his arm flex under the tension of his hold. He seems to be debating something—an internal battle of sorts.

“Do you… Do you want to kiss me?” Skylar forces the question out, as if there is a panic inside of it. As if he is terrified I’ll say yes, yet equally terrified that I’ll say no.

And I am terrified that he has read me so easily.