Smith leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “Back in high school, Laird and Marco were a big deal. They ran in the same circle of popular kids. You know, the ones who won Best Looking and Prom King and that kind of shit. But Laird always made it look easy. People just liked him. With Marco, I don’t know quite how to explain it, but he always seemed to try a little too hard or fell a little short. He’s been in Laird’s shadow forever in that sense. Laird was first chair and snare captain back then too, and Marco was second.”
I finished my first slice and took a second. “Right, okay. But plenty of kids aren’t class president or homecoming queen and don’t end up being dickholes. There’s got to be more to it than that.”
“There were rumors back then. About Marco’s mom. That his dad used to hit her and that she tried to leave once, abandon the family. I have no idea if they were true or not, but I never saw her come to any of the football games.” Smith fiddled with the edge of his plate.
The pizza in my mouth lost its taste. “His dad beat his mom? Did his dad hit him too?”
Smith shrugged. “I mean, I never saw any marks on him that year. But who knows? His dad was a drunk asshole, so it wouldn’t shock me if he had.”
I couldn’t help thinking back to the day he tripped me and I fell on the curb. I wiped my fingers off on a brown paper napkin and pushed my plate away. “It sucks that he had a shitty childhood. But that doesn’t excuse his behavior.”
“No. It doesn’t. But if that’s the only way he’d seen a man and woman interact, it’s not surprising that he doesn’t know how to treat a woman.”
“Are you defending him?” I asked incredulously. Batman was about to fly solo. Who needed a sidekick?
“Not… defending him.” Smith drew out. “I’m just saying, especially here in the South, and for a guy who was always second best, I can see how a confident girl like you could bring out the worst in him.”
“Wait, so it’s my fault?” My fingers curled into fists on my thighs.
“No! I’m not even remotely saying that. He shouldn’t talk to you the way he does. But you have to admit that you go out of your way to push his buttons. You’re not exactly helping the situation.”
“You are defending him.” All I could do was stare at him incredulously.
Smith’s cheeks turned pink and he looked away.
“Oh my God. Do you like him?” My eyebrows nearly reached my hairline, and my voice rose an octave higher than usual.
“I don’t like him. I don’t like the way he treats you or the way he acts sometimes. But do I think he’s kinda hot when he gets all worked up and starts strutting around? I know you’re blinded by Laird, but have you seen the abs on Marco?”
Now it was my turn to blush at the mention of Laird. “But still… of all people? Marco? Scrotum Breath?”
Smith scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’ve always had a weakness for the bad boys, okay? I don’t want to date him or anything. I’m just saying if he got really drunk one night and wanted to experiment—or offered me a private practice session—I wouldn’t say no. He’s an asshole, but he’s a sexy asshole.” He took a long drink. “And Laird isn’t the only one I got an eyeful of in the bathroom the other day. Let me just say, Marco has got some girth.”
I shrieked. “I did not want to know that!”
“But now you do.” He smirked without remorse.
I threw a wadded-up napkin at him. “I’m not going to be able to look him in the eye now.”
“Perfect. He’ll love that. He’ll think you’re subservient. Less drama for all of us.”
We both laughed at the likelihood of that ever happening.
And then we lost track of time as the conversation shifted to classes starting on Monday and roommates moving in tomorrow. Somewhere along the way, we ate the rest of the pizza. When the waitress brought the check, I noticed the timestamp on the top and gasped. “Smith! It’s 11:30! We only have half an hour left to find Bubba’s and get our drink on.”
Smith scooted his chair back in alarm and stood to leave. “Holy shit, Batman. Ready to fly?”
Laird
I prowled the party impatiently, nursing the same warm beer I’d been holding for the last two hours. The sky was dark outside the window over the kitchen sink. And Reese had neither shown up nor called me. I checked my phone for the third time in five minutes.
Still nothing.
Cade and Justin had arrived a while ago and chugged their requisite two cups of NAD juice while everyone else cheered, especially Cade’s relieved older brother, Charlie.
I sent Reese another text. The fifth or sixth since I’d dropped her off. All of them unanswered.
Shit. Fuck. Damn it to hell.
What if they were lost? She wasn’t from around here. It was doubtful she’d recognized the far edge of the lake on the south side of campus. Or worse, what if one of them had gotten hurt? The sun had set over an hour ago. If they were still on the road, cars might not see them. And it’s not like we’d left them with a fucking flashlight or anything.
She has her phone, I reminded myself for the millionth time. Not that she apparently remembered how to use it.
But maybe she was the one who’d been injured? And Smith didn’t know she had one and hadn’t gone the right way for help?
The cup crumpled in my hand, the last inch of beer at the bottom dripping onto the beige linoleum. I cleaned up the mess with a wad of paper towels and then hunted down Marco.
“I’ll be back, man. I’m gonna go pick up some more beer. We’re running low.”
“We can have someone else do that. There’s no need for you to leave.” Marco protested. “And Willa was looking for you earlier.”
Who gave a fuck about Willa? “Nah, it’s cool, I got it. I won’t be long.” I slapped him on the back between the shoulders and beat a hasty escape to my Wrangler.
I didn’t care if it was cheating. I was going to go find her and bring her back. For appearances, I could drop her and Smith at the end of the block or something, let them walk from there. It didn’t matter. I just needed to know she was okay.
I just needed her.
My foot was heavy on the gas as I returned to the field where we’d left them. It was empty. Of course, it’s fucking empty, man. I berated myself as I waffled over which way to try next. When we’d driven off, we’d turned right. Guessing they would have followed us, I went that way, driving slow and peering into the tall grass along the side of the road on the way. Several side streets split off and I went down all of them, finding a whole lot of nothing.
The knot in my stomach doubled in size. I sent more texts. Even called twice. It went straight to voicemail both times, indicating to me her fucking phone was either off or had been crushed into worthless pieces when a car ran her over in the dark.
Jesus, what was it about Reese? She’d dug her way under my skin in a way no other girl before her ever had, dominating my thoughts and ruling my dick. I’d started to measure time by the number of hours until I’d see her again. And the answer was always too fucking long. I had a feeling when I finally did claim that sexy body of hers, this addiction of mine was only going to get worse.
Using every cuss word I knew and inventing a few new ones, I returned to the empty field and repeated the same meticulous procedure the other direction. My fingers squeezed the leather of the steering wheel harder, my knuckles turning white, as if it would help me see deeper into the darkness beyond the twin beams of the headlights.
By the time I’d traveled every inch of road she could’ve come across between the field and campus, I was alternating between fear and fury. When I found her again, because, damn it all, I would fucking find her, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss her senseless or spank her ass until it turned red beneath my palm.
My phone dinged with a text, and I almost swerved off the road in my hurry to check it.
Marco: Where are you, man? You left two hours ago. Everyone’s here and wondering where you went.
Me: Everyone? All the NADs made it?
Marco: Yeah, Smith and the girl showed up and drank the juice with a few minutes to spare.