Page 31 of Hating On Riot

Me: I understand.

Me: Will you ever?

Sean: I can but I need your help.

He needs my help? To help him get over a girl from his past so he can move on with the girl he loves? No one’s needed my help in so long that it feels good to type out my response.

Me: Of course. Anything.

Sean: Break one of the rules. Meet me IRL.

I shouldn’t. I stick to the rules. I don’t break them. I mean, my team has tasked me with keeping one of the biggest rule-breakers in check by assigning me to stick by his side for Nerf War. It’s how I’ll explain why we’re joined at the hip, should my brothers demand to know why I’m with Riot twenty-four seven.

But someone needs my help.

My heart beating fast, I give Sean my answer.

Me: I’m in. When? Where?

Sean: TY. You won’t regret it.

Then why am I regretting it the moment I finished reading his message?

12

Riot

I slide my gaze to the small girl in a baseball cap, her long black hair falling loose down her back, standing in front of a tall guy with dark brown hair and a huge shit-eating grin, intently listening to what she has to say, his head cocked.

It’s been two days since I left my note on her backpack. Arie Kim, be my water girl, and I’ll give you another taste of my delish lips.

Yesterday, she was MIA.

Is Arie telling Coop what she did all day yesterday?

She wasn’t in the bedroom when I went to get her for our group breakfast. Perplexed, I rushed to the back lot behind the house. Her car wasn’t in its usual spot. She didn’t show up for class. She didn’t bother to answer my text. Instead, she texted Xander, telling him my note about the water girl gig was short notice, that she’d already made plans, but that she’d be there the next day.

Arie has Xander’s number? The man-whore who vowed to never sleep with a virgin? Does the dude have a virgin radar? Is he gunning for Arie because she could be one? Xander is competitive and the best player. That’s why he’s our team captain. He’s also unpredictable. What if he’s doing a full three-sixty for his last year of college and plans on bedding a virgin?

Bedding a virgin? Fuck me. Reading my mother’s historical romances as a kid is messing with my head.

Wait a minute. Back everything up. Is Arie a virgin? She can’t be. But if she is . . . I growl, squeezing the bottled water in my hand until the cap pops off. Water sprays me in the face. That bastard, Coop, would know. He’s her BFF. She would share everything with him, including when and who she lost her virginity to.

If she is, is Wilder the one gunning to be her first, yanking mine and Arie’s chains with his she’s-mine-in-public-but-yours-in-private bullshit? Is he trying to get her to fall for him for real? He’s her guy in public, so he can kiss her, grope her, and do anything he wants to her.

Damn it! Is he pulling a fast one on me?

I yank my hair in frustration. I’m fucking overthinking. But what about that guy she was texting back and forth with? The one with the smarmy face?

Am I not the only guy she’s talking to, whether IRL or on a freaking app? Are there others? I should’ve demanded she delete the app ASAP. I shouldn’t have agreed so readily to Wilder getting Arie in public while I get her when we’re in private.

That bastard duped me, and I fell for it. I should’ve thought through what I was agreeing to. Instead, I was feeling all sorts of feels.

First, I was pissed and jealous when I saw who had picked Arie up from the house. Then I was even more pissed and jealous when I could make out the two of them hugging, or maybe kissing. Their heads were so goddamn close!

Secondly, I surprisingly had the time of my life bantering with Wilder. So much so, I think he took advantage of my natural high and our instant camaraderie and whipped out his proposition.

I was still on edge about what Arie might do to me after finding the note. I knew she found and read it. A distinct tension hung between us. We knew what I did. Wilder didn’t. Awkward was an understatement.