Page 7 of Striking Range

“Everett!”

I startle in my chair, turning to look up at Andrew as he stands over me. He’s grinning—amused.

“I’ve been calling you,” he continues. “Class is dismissed.”

I rub at the back of my neck, embarrassed. “Oh shit, I must have zoned out a bit.”

Andrew doesn’t pry, but hands me my bag and steps back to let me stand. We make our way from the classroom to the front of Webster Hall.

“I get it. Shit was boring. Hey, we’re going out tonight, do you wanna come?” he asks, running a hand through his thick, dark hair.

I pretend to consider the offer.

“Nah, not tonight. I have plans.” I try to sound at least a little bit disappointed, and it must work well enough, because Andrew sighs.

“You’re always blowing us off. Who has your attention, hm? Is she hot?” He bumps my shoulder, smirking at me.

It’s amusing that he assumes I’m ditching them to get laid, when in reality, I’m ditching them to lie on the couch with Skylar.

I don’t respond; instead, I give him a wink and a smile before skipping off to my next class.

My day on campus ends a bit later than Skylar’s, so I walk back to his apartment alone. By the time I’m unlocking the front door and kicking my shoes off, I’m already over the day and ready to sleep. But knowing Sky, that won’t be happening.

I can hear low music playing from his bedroom, so I head straight back. Skylar is lying on his stomach, workbook and papers spread around him on the bed.

His head lifts as I walk in, and he gives me a goofy smile. I try not to focus on the curve of his spine or how soft the skin of his lower back looks.

He’s wearing a pair of his lounge shorts and no shirt—I have to look away and remind myself how gross it is to have reactions to his beauty.

“How was class?” he asks, propping his chin up on his palm with his elbows placed firmly on the bed.

“Boring and exhausting,” I respond honestly.

Skylar laughs, scooting to the right so that I can sit next to where he lies on the bed. “You poor baby. Now get your homework out; we need to finish so that tomorrow we can do nothing but party.”

Ah, that’s right. His birthday party.

“Who all did you invite, anyway?” I pick my bag up off the floor, pulling out my papers for the week.

“Uh, a few volley guys. And obviously Kelly and Henry.” He’s half-paying attention, copying something from his workbook onto a stray piece of paper.

“So, it’ll be small then?” I can’t help but sound a little hopeful. I kind of like it when it’s just us four, or when it’s just us two.

Skylar huffs out a small laugh, looking up to give me a look that tells me he thinks I’m ridiculous. “If you think the people I invited aren’t going to bring their own friends, you’re crazy.”

I consider this for a moment, watching as he turns back to his work, his long fingers wrapped around his wooden pencil. Skylar hates the mechanical ones.

So it’ll be a big group after all. And since he invited guys from volleyball, that means his teammate will be there too, I’m sure.

“Is your teammate going to make it?” I try to keep my tone casual, leaning back on my palms as I watch him.

Skylar looks back up, trying to read me. “Dante?” At my nod, he continues, saying, “Yeah, he’ll be there. Why?”

Why? I’m not sure. But every time I picture them on the sand, Dante crowding Skylar’s space, his sweaty skin pressed against Sky’s, I feel sick. Dante has weaseled his way into striking range.

“Well, whatever.” I laugh, brushing the conversation to the side as I shift until I’m lying over Skylar’s back, hearing the oof leave his chest at my weight.

“God, Evie,” he complains. “You’re crushing me. Fuck off.”