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Me: I can’t cover for you. Sorry, dude. She already knows it’s me.

Maison: Tell her I’m in traffic and can’t text, but I’ll be there when I can.

Me: That’s a stupid fucking lie. How did she even get into the house? Did you give her our code?

Maison: Yeah, she sneaks in to see me at night.

Me: What do I get out of it? She’s staring at me like I’m supposed to hang out with her. I want to have a shower, and I’m fucking tired. What am I supposed to say to her?

Silence … only those three fucking dots. Then finally …

Maison: Just don’t fuck her.

I shake my head, annoyed by how he just can’t keep it in his fucking pants, and now it’s my problem. He doesn’t even like Serena, he’s friend zoned her for years. He can’t think beyond the moment.

“Where is he?” she asks without missing a beat.

“He says he will be back soon. There’s a traffic jam or some shit getting back from the lake. He’s with Ezra and his friends from school.” I cock my head at her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. He told me to tell you he loves you.”

I’m a prick—but at least I’m an honest prick. I don’t date for this reason. This shit is too stressful. I can’t deal when they get clingy. I’d hate having someone questioning my whereabouts.

She closes her eyes; she knows something is off.

Fuck … I hate seeing girls upset. Damnit, Maison… I take a careful step toward her. “How about that drink?”

Her green eyes immediately light up, and she hops off the counter. My jersey rises again over her thighs as she turns and pulls out a crystal decanter full of vodka.

Fuck, this girl in my jersey.

If Maison hadn’t just told me not to fuck his girlfriend, that is exactly what I would want to do right now. She grabs another glass, fills it with ice, pours me two fingers full, and hands it to me. I take it and jump up and sit next to her on the island.

She’s close to me now—I don’t think I can be this close to her without reacting like I’m some fucking pre-teen with a boner. “What happened with you and Fitzgerald, anyway?” I ask her, taking it down in one full swig, trying to ignore the fact she’s staring right at my mouth. “Why bother to drive thirty minutes every day when there are guys in your own town you can fuck?”

The question slips out of me like vomit, but I can’t help but ask. Kids from Douglas Cove are poor—rougher around the edges—they stick to themselves; we stick to ourselves.

That’s it.

Plus, it wasn’t that long ago I saw her wrapping her legs around her boyfriend in the parking lot after the game on his tailgate. That was only like a month ago. She stares up at me through her long lashes and grows quiet.

She finally says in a low voice, “He broke up with me.” She bites her lip as if she’s ashamed. “Most of my friends took his side in the breakup. I don’t have a lot going on back home, to be honest.”

Without thinking, I grab a small piece of hair falling in her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. “Why would he break up with a pretty girl like you?”

Fuck … Maison’s rubbing off on me.

She blows out a breath, as if not expecting the compliment. “He got a hockey scholarship to an Ivy League school. I guess I wasn’t good enough for him anymore,” she says. “He said he doesn’t want to be tied down with a girlfriend, especially in his last year of high school, when he knows he will leave next year.”

I try to hide the irritation that takes a massive punch right to my pride. Fucking loser-ass Fitzgerald already got a scholarship? Fuck that …

I shrug. “Who cares about fucking Fitzgerald? Looks like you upgraded with Maison, anyway.”

Her eyes gleam and she smiles back … she liked the compliment. In fact, I think all she wants is my attention. She knew I was home when she came into this kitchen. Instead of hiding in Maison’s room, she came out looking all sexy.

She pours me another drink while my heart thuds again. She looks me right in the eyes as she hands it to me. It takes a few seconds to regain my composure enough to grab it from her. We chat for a few minutes. She tells me about her school, her plans to attend community college after—I actually pretend to give a shit.

Finally, the front door bangs open, and Maison barges into the house with girls cackling all around. He appears in the kitchen doorway in shorts with no shirt a few seconds later, typical Maison looking all beefed up. He darts his gaze between the two of us sitting next to each other but immediately smiles at Olivia. I quickly hop off the counter like it’s no big deal I am sitting right next to her.

“Hey, baby,” he says, walking directly to her and nuzzles his nose into her, “we ran into the girls at the lake and came to grab you.” Ezra, Naomi, Serena, and a few others from our team in Ezra’s grade follow in behind her.