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She gives him a slow smile and nods, completely ignoring me, even though I scored two fucking goals tonight.

It’s over—guarantee he’ll fuck her within an hour.

She continues her hair-twirling flirty gestures, and Ezra fucks off toward where Naomi is hanging out. Maison gives me a beat it face, so I get up and give him his space. He’ll be consumed with this chick all night now.

The next hour is a flurry of shots, beer, and basic debauchery as New Ocean’s finest destroy Ezra’s dad’s house. I end up pulling Naomi away and hanging out with her for half an hour until my vision is blurred and my dick is too fucking hard. She talks about gossip I don’t fucking care about, like girls from the cheer team hooking up with my friends. Naomi is the apple in everyone’s eye, the token virgin, but I know deep down she’s not the good girl she pretends to be.

None of them are.

She peers up at me with her fuck me eyes and I’m tempted, but she is technically underage still. I know she’s been waiting for me to kiss her or take her upstairs, but I don’t. It’s fun having this type of control of girls, and also because Ezra can’t rip his eyes off us as we talk, and it’s fucking hilarious watching the pure rage seething out of him. I think about his reaction when I finally decide to pull her upstairs and she actually lets me.

I want to see what he’ll fucking do about it.

At the very least, hopefully, I’ll get my dick sucked. Maison can’t be the only one who has fun with a blonde tonight. He’s been making out with Olivia on the couch for over an hour. Eventually, they disappear upstairs to one of the spare rooms. She gives him bedroom eyes the whole way up. The little fire whip matched Maison’s drinking for most of the night.

I slide my arms around Naomi’s waist and grab her ass; she leans up ready for me to kiss her, and I’m just about to when her friend Serena walks up out of nowhere and nudges her. “Naomi, your dad’s calling you.”

Her phone is buzzing and blinking in her purse and she pulls off me, her eyes shoot open. “Oh shit, I’ve missed six calls from him.” She looks at me and visibly blushes. “I’m sorry, Micah. I have to go. It’s way past my curfew.”

Fuck. A curfew? Seriously? She’s too fucking young and inexperienced for me. I need a girl who can take my shit; I don’t want to break them.

And little Naomi Wilson isn’t that girl. I can’t deal with teasing.

Looks like Maison is the only one getting laid tonight. The rest of the girls here are already hooked up with someone, or I wouldn’t touch them, anyway. And I refuse to fucking bottom feed.

Before she leaves, she leans up and whispers in my ear. “Message me later, Micah. I’ll be waiting.”

Yeah, not fucking likely.

I head outside to go home. I don’t want to stay here. I have to get up and train tomorrow because state finals are in a week. Even if these fuckers don’t want to get up and work out—I will. I have way too much to lose.

We only live a few blocks away from Ezra’s, so I decide to walk to sober up a bit. His house is on a cul-de-sac that backs onto a forest. It’s my favorite running trail, and I know it well. And my mood is only worsening by the minute. The tightness I always feel in my chest comes back, and I want to freak the fuck out like the world is going to crash in on me. The same sense of danger I have felt nearly every day since I was eleven.

Watching your twin about to die would fuck up any kid. Getting stuck for forty-eight hours in the wild nearly fucking destroyed me.

When I manage to sleep, I dream about it almost every night. The cold, bitter air still suffocates me. The frostbite still lingers on my fingers and toes. I was weak and helpless and completely unprepared. I promised myself I would never be that weak again. I refuse to even go fishing without a full survival kit.

At least sex helps me get rid of this feeling—it helps me release.

Maison’s voice echoes on the street. “Where are you going, Micah?”

I turn to face him. “Home.”

“Are you in a mood?”

I shrug. “Nah, man. Enjoy your night.”

He’s not buying it. He knows when I’m in a funk. He walks toward me and places his arm around me. “You played well tonight, man. The scouts will be back. And you still have all next year. Try to have a good time for once. Celebrate.”

I raise my brows. “Why are you out here? Don’t you have Olivia waiting? Miss I Don’t Have A Boyfriend. What . . . have you banged her already? Or are you just done with her?”

He can’t stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face. “Not yet. She wanted to have a shower, so I came down to grab a drink. Then I saw you were leaving.”

I gesture toward the house. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

He pauses—just long enough to know he’s up to something. “You want to have a go at her first?”

Dude.