When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(63)
“Come to the hoedown at Natalie’s.”
“Seriously?” I grumble around a bit.
“I know you’re all broody and in love, but you should come out for a bit. The rest of the team would appreciate it.”
Over the last seven months since I’ve come to Connecticut, the baseball field is the only time I’ve allotted for bonding with my team. In some ways, I’ve been both present and absent at the same time. So at the mention of a party, I’m compelled to be a team player.
“I’ll show up.”
Rico smacks my shoulder and whoops in celebration. Out of any of the guys, he’s tried the hardest to get me to mingle with the rest of the student body. On campus, the athletes are treated like gods. Girls gravitate to us, batting their eyelashes for a glimpse of hope to hook up. The guys look to soak up our magic ability of making panties drop. Guys like Rico live for the admiration, but I’m not searching for anything from anyone here on campus. I’ve signed the dotted line to fulfill a duty, play baseball, and not completely fuck up my chance at an education.
Not realizing how tired I am from practice, I rest for a few minutes. A loud pounding on my door wakes me. Rico and Griffin let themselves in without my permission, and throw my covers to the floor.
“Get up. The guys are waiting,” Griffin shouts, stomping to my closet.
“I may not go to parties as often as the rest of you, but I’m pretty sure I’m capable of dressing myself to go out in public.”
A white thermal, a pair of jeans, and ten minutes later, I hop in my car and follow Griffin to Natalie’s. Her place is across campus, which gives me enough time to call Kennedy. During my impromptu nap, she left me a cryptic voicemail about Bea, Amanda, and her going on a mission.
One. Two. Three. Four rings, then voicemail.
My mood plummets. I grumble as we park in front of a two-story bungalow. Cars line both sides of the streets, and music pours from the windows and open doors. A girl waltzes by my passenger door, in the shortest pair of denim shorts, and a plaid shirt tied to expose her entire tanned stomach. She grins in my direction. One more unanswered call to Kennedy, then I slide my phone into my front pocket.
The country/pop style music blisters my ears when I walk inside. At my groan, Rico grins at me.
“Try to have a good time. Loosen up a little. I’m gonna go find Mark.” His bear-like hand smacks me on the shoulder, and he scampers in the direction of a scantily clad female who’s had her eyes on him since we waltzed in the door.
I push through the crowd, offering hellos and bro-hugs to every familiar face. Most comment on my absence all year. I ignore them, and push through to the kitchen where I’ll find beer and maybe space to sulk.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Ashlee stoops to eye level as I peer into the bottom of my red Solo cup. When my eyes peek over the lip, she’s playing with the tie of her plaid shirt and pressing out her chest. Her outfit is almost identical to the girl who walked by my car earlier. Their desperate attempt to draw attention makes me sick.
Ashlee presses up against me, forcing me to push off the counter. I pivot to the side. She senses my plan to slip past, and moves with me. My hands come between us to fend her off, and when she pushes her breasts against them, I jerk them back like I’ve been scalded.
This, this right here, is why I wanted to stay home. Why I haven’t bothered to come out. The way the girls look at me on campus makes me uneasy. Hell, in high school, as a freshman, I banged half of the seniors, so attention is nothing new to me, but it’s unwanted, nonetheless.
Several girls cluster in a group, side-eyeing us and whispering.
“I need you to take a step back, Ashlee,” I whisper to avoid embarrassing her. “Take. A. Step. Back.”
“Ask Rico. Hell, ask Griffin.” Ashlee raises an eyebrow, challenging me. “I won’t be a waste of your time.”
In my head, my mind goes through several stages of confusion. Griffin, really? My eyes break through the crowd to find Sandy’s head falling back with laughter. Griffin rustles her hair to the side and kisses her neck.
Ashlee’s eyes follow my gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous. It was before they met freshman year.” She grins, thrusting back against me.
I find it weird she could never imagine stepping in on Griffin and Sandy, but never takes Kennedy and me into consideration.
A hand skims up my chest and locks around my neck. She yanks me close and my eyes widen. I shove back, but her lips press against mine. Ashlee’s loud pants say she’s experiencing a completely different kiss than I am. My hands circle her biceps and I force her back. From somewhere in the room, I hear a loud gasp.
“Graham?” a familiar voice whispers.
And, in a matter of seconds, my heart drops into my stomach.
“Why are we wearing this again?” Amanda ghosts her hand at our matching jean shorts and plaid shirts. I scan the other girls in the house, thinking the answer is rather obvious. “Right, hoedown,” she points into the kitchen, “and it looks like a ho is about to go down.”
The girl Amanda indicates is on her tiptoes to align herself with her boyfriend’s staggering height. Even from behind, I can tell her chest is pressed against his. She leans in, wraps her hand around his neck, and presses her lips to his. In a matter of seconds, he grabs her arms and shoves her backward. When she drops to her feet, familiar dark hair appears. Over the top of her head, Graham’s shocked expression makes me gasp.