Hostile(5)

Her eyes darken now as she sits back and crosses her arms. “I’m not drunk, Grayson. I like you.”

She may not be stupid drunk right now, but I can smell the alcohol on her breath. “I like you too.”

“But not enough to fuck me.”

Christ. I lean my head back against the couch, kicking myself, yet again, for coming to this stupid party. I don’t want to be here. But high school is all about appearances. And if I didn’t show up tonight, everyone would ask me why on Monday.

I don’t have the energy for it anymore. Only a few months left.

College will be different.

Right?

She drops her arms, and her eyes soften as she leans in, her pink lips far too close to mine. “Why don’t you like me like that?”

I swallow hard as her eyes examine me, and I briefly wonder if she sees it. “Crystal . . .”

She huffs, and then her eyes narrow on someone behind me. “Is it her? Kelly? That girl has fucked the entire senior class. Probably even some of the girls.”

I wince. “And that’s a problem, why?”

I don’t care for judgmental assholes, but let’s face it—that’s pretty much what high school is full of. She’s getting pissy now. “So, you are into her? Is it because she’s slutty? You want a girl with more experience? Like that teacher you’re fucking?”

Jesus fucking Christ. I stand up, beyond annoyed now, and unfortunately, she does too. Wanting answers. “Am I fucking a teacher or Kelly? Which one are you accusing me of exactly?”

She puts one hand on her hip and sways slightly, indicating she had more to drink than she’s letting on. “Either. Both. I don’t fucking know. You won’t tell me.”

I take a deep breath, trying to remain patient with her. “I’m not fucking either. I’m not fucking anyone.”

“Bullshit.” She gestures widely to my entire body. “You’re fucking someone. You don’t look like that and remain a virgin.”

“I didn’t say I’m a virgin. I said I’m not fucking anyone. Not you. Not Kelly. And certainly not a teacher.”

She bites her bottom lip angrily, and I worry for a minute she’s gonna draw blood. “Look, if you like a girl with a little more . . .” her eyes flick to Kelly, “experience . . .”

“Stop.” I have to stop this. I can’t take it anymore. “I don’t care who anyone has sex with. If it’s no one or the entire world. It’s none of my business, and it has no bearing on whether I want to have sex with them or not.”

She looks confused. “You don’t care that she’s been with the entire class?”

A frustrated groan bubbles up in my throat. Never argue with a drunk person. I know this. “I don’t believe rumors, first of all. When a guy says they’ve slept with someone . . . I don’t believe it, nor do I care if it’s true or not. And you, of all people, should be more sensitive to that and stop spreading that shit.”

She rears back defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean there are always rumors about all of us. And most of them aren’t true.” She looks hurt by that, and I’m sure she is. Plenty of guys have claimed to have slept with her, but I didn’t buy it, just like when Josh was talking about her today. And I really don’t care. “You can sleep with whoever you want, or not. But so can she. You’re supposed to be her friend.”

Tears well up in her eyes, but I don’t have it in me to feel sorry for her. I’m so over this high school bullshit. “She wants you. And she knows I like you.”

“Right. So what? You decided to tell me how slutty she was. You think that makes you look better?”

She’s back to being angry, folding her arms and glaring at me. “Fine. Fuck her all you want. I don’t care anymore, Grayson.”

She’s lying.

But again . . . I can’t bring myself to care. “Great.”

Before she can say anything else, I walk out of the living room and then the house, going out into the cool, early spring air.

I really should have brought a jacket.

But at least out here, I can breathe. I can sympathize with her to a point. People assume I’m an idiot just by looking at me and then at my football stats. They think I’m just a meathead jock with a trust fund.

That’s been my persona since junior high, maybe even before.

But that’s not me.

I mean . . . Okay, it kind of is, to a point. But the truth is, I have a tendency to get into my head a lot. I overthink everything. I’m constantly thinking about the future and what I’m going to do when I get there.

I don’t care about football or drama. I don’t really care about getting laid, although someday—yeah, I want to experience love.

But how the hell am I going to do that when I can’t find the courage to be the real me? That I don’t know.





FIVE





“Okay, I made your bed. But I don’t know, I think you should let me buy you new bedding.” I look at Blair as she stands there, staring at my bed in the tiny, dingy, studio apartment. It’s above the garage at the house belonging to a guy I know. A guy who, for now, is just known to Blair and Rhys as my friend.