Page 29 of Habits

My teammates and classmates holler in agreement before somebody turns the music to the max.

Liam, one of the juniors on the team, manages the bar tonight. He starts filling my glass, but I wave him off, grabbing the whole bottle out of his hand and taking a long pull.

Not even the alcohol-induced numbness can help me keep the angry monster at bay.

Once Derek was escorted off the ice, the ref threw the guy who ran him over into the sin bin for the last couple of minutes of the game. But he also threw me in there for coming after the guy while Derek was down. Stupid prick. But whatever. Coach called in another guy to replace Derek, and with retribution still burning in our veins, our team managed to score the game-winning point just in time for the final buzzer to signal the end of the game.

I expected the coach to bite my head off for all the fighting and unnecessary time in the bin, but he was too preoccupied with Derek and his injury. Apparently, my best friend has a mild concussion that will keep him out of the game for at least a week, if not two, and a bruise over half of his body that will grace his skin for a month or so. Fun, fun times.

The chair next to mine screeches, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“How are you holding up, man?” Derek sits down, wincing slightly. With his hand, he’s holding on to his ribs.

“I should be the one asking you that.” I tilt my chin in the direction of his chest. “What’s the verdict? Anything broken?”

Although the team doc didn’t think anything was broken, the coach didn’t want to take any chances, so he insisted Derek go to the ER. Thankfully, his mom was working, so he was admitted immediately and everything was sorted out extra fast.

“Just bruised. But I’ll be out for two weeks. They don’t want to risk me re-injuring myself and this time actually breaking something.”

I nod in agreement, taking a pull from the bottle. “I’d offer you some, but I don’t think it’ll go well with those fancy pain meds the doc gave you.”

Derek laughs, but his smile soon turns into a grimace. “I guess not. But I’m sure you’ll drink some for me, too.”

Lifting the bottle in the air in salute, I wink at him playfully. “You know it.”

“But seriously, dude, how are you holding up? What was your old man doing at the game?”

Just the mention of him makes my smile fall and a frown deepen between my brows. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter through clenched teeth. The irritation that was just boiling softly under the surface raises back up.

Digging my hand into the pocket of my jeans, I grab the baggy that I thrust inside after I took a shower and start rolling up a joint.

I noticed it almost as soon as I stepped onto the ice. This new buzz around the rink that hadn’t been here. As we took the ice to warm up, doing circles around the rink, my eyes found his instantly. The future mayor cheering on his son to victory. I could have assumed something like this would happen after what he told me a few days back, only I didn’t think he’d get into politician mode so quickly.

He waved at me in passing, cheering my name like nothing was wrong. Like he’s my dad and I’m his son and everything is perfect in our world. Only it’s not. He’s never around, always too busy with his next case, his next campaign and next assistant half his age he’s screwing behind the closed doors of his office. And I’m all alone in our big family house, throwing parties or drinking myself into oblivion. So perfect. So fucked-up. So like Hills. Both of us.

With shaky fingers, I bring the blunt to my lips and inhale deeply, letting the sweet scent enter my lungs and spread through my body.

“You can talk to me.” Derek leans forward, his blue eyes searching mine. “You know that, right?”

“I said I don’t want to talk,” I say through my clenched teeth. Why is he so insistent? Why is he even here? Shouldn’t he be home resting or something?

“Andrew …” He drags out, and just when I think I’ll have to pull a douchebag card and tell him where to shove it, slender fingers wrap around my biceps, drawing my attention.

Inhaling what’s left of my joint, I put out the rest before turning around. Slowly, my eyes take the girl in. They travel from high-heeled boots up her long, toned legs and narrow waist. Her ample chest is pushed up and filling the tight, skimpy purple dress that’s leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Brown hair is straight, falling down her shoulders to mid-back.

“You were amazing out there today, Drew!” she squeals in her pitchy voice as her fingers dig into my forearm harder. “A real hero!”

I exhale what’s left of the smoke directly into her face, not caring one bit that it’s making her cough and her eyes water.

If only she knew, I chuckle dryly. There isn’t a heroic bone in my body. Nor anything that can come close to it, for that matter.

She continues her chatter, not bothered in the least with my disinterest. I take a few more pulls off the bottle that’s now almost empty as I watch her mouth move a hundred seconds a minute. I nod my head and smile when necessary, but my mind is far from whatever is leaving her mouth. What interests me is what I can get into her mouth.

Even without closing my eyes, I can imagine her on her knees in front of me. That silky mass of hair wrapped around my hand as I help her navigate that pouty mouth and take my cock all the way in until her eyes water.

My dick stirs as the images assault my brain. Taking one last pull off the bottle, I finally decide to call it quits. Now, I have other things on my mind.

I lean forward, my hand going to the back of her neck and pulling her closer. Losing my balance, I stumble forward, and instead of plunging my lips onto her mouth, they fall onto her neck. My tongue darts out, swiping over her collarbone and nibbling at the hollow of her neck, making her giggle. The sound is irritating as hell.

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