Page 93 of Unloved

“Yeah, princess?” I smirk, pushing the smoke and drawl into my voice that I know will turn her cheeks a pretty shade of rose gold.

Walker shifts his stance at my words, finally making the final push to put his hand on the curve of her waist. My jaw aches from the strength of my back teeth bearing down.

“Do you want to play again?”

I smile at her, a real one this time, and nod. “Sure.”

When I agreed to a second round of beer pong, I definitely didn’t intend to link myself with an overly competitive Holden, who tried to insist we chug an entire beer for every point.

And I definitely,definitelydidn’t want WalkerfuckingTaylor—the football hotshot with a last name for a first name, and a first name for a last name—all over my goddamn tutor.

“Get it together,” Holden snaps, slapping my back so hard I almost lose the Ping-Pong ball in my hand. It’s annoying, but it manages to break my hazardous focus, and less than appropriate thoughts about slicing off Walker Taylor’s hands every time he uses them to “adjust” Ro’s stance. His fingers keep grazing circles on the bare skin of her arm, now exposed since she’s discarded her jacket.

I sink the ball easily, gaining my tutor girl’s attention with abright-eyed smile as she takes a long, deliberate sip of her drink and moves the cup away.

When Holden sinks his, he calls for the balls back, and Walker rolls them to us across the sticky table covered in Sharpie signatures and faded phone numbers. I take the green ball and dunk it into one of the cups of water, looking up to take my shot when Walker decides to rest his chin on Ro’s semibare shoulder and whisper something into her ear that makes her flush.

The ball leaves my fingers, missing every cup and the table entirely, bouncing onto the floor by Walker’s feet.

I wish I’d hit him in the fucking mouth.

“Damn it,” Holden mutters, stepping up and hitting the rim of a cup before it falls out. “I think I’m done for the night.” His hand pats my back a little harder as he turns away from us. “Anyone seen Paloma?”

I don’t answer, don’t look around to help—because I feel a little bit like I’m burning up from the inside. Watching Ro flirt and smileshouldmake me happy… If I still thought of her as a friend, it would. But something feels wrong.

And I can’t shake the desperation to be the one on the receiving end of her smiles. Just like I’ll never be able to pluck the memory of her telling me how easy it would be to love someone like me from my brain.

I think it would be simpler to live the rest of my life without those words ringing in my ear, without knowing how easily she defends me, uplifts me…

Living without her at all now seems like some difficult thing. But so does livingwithher, because my admiration and respect for her are becoming a deep well with an end I’ll never find.

“Ro?” I ask before the football boy can find his way to her lips. “Can you help me with something really quick?”

If I was anticipating a snappy reply, I’d be let down by herimmediate concern and quick apology to Walker before she steps away from him to follow me into the house through the back door.

“Everything okay, Matty?”

Matty. A possessive feeling rolls through me, but not over her—ofheroverme.

I down the rest of the room-temperature beer in my hand and set it on a table, grabbing her hand as I take us toward the stairs. A few small groups are clustered by the entrance, front door open to let slightly cooler air flow into the overheated, darkened house.

When I spot the couple on the middle of the staircase, I start to snap at them that they’re in “off-limits” territory before I realize it’s my roommate.

Bennett is with a girl sitting two steps down from him, her arms wrapped around his massive thigh and calf, blond hair pouring over his jean-clad knee where his hand gently combs through the strands, careful and slow. He isn’t looking at her, surveying the party as he usually might. But—

Steps faltering, I do a quick double-take as we pass them and realize it’s Paloma, face serene and eyes closed as she lies in Reiner’s lap while the stoic goalie carefully guards over her.

He barely flicks his eyes up to meet mine, but his face is a stone mask before he nods to Ro on my heels and gives me a stern, disapproving frown.

You’re the one with Paloma fucking Blake sleeping like a puppy on your thigh while you pet her hair, but sure. Let’s questionmydecisions.

I shake my head and continue up past them, my pulse thrumming in my ears. Ro never falters in following me into the shadowed, unlit hallway between our rooms. Rhys’s door is closed, music spilling out from where I’m sure he and his new girlfriend are having a fantastic time celebrating the win.

I almost laugh at the realization that everyone wholivesin this house isn’t currently attending the party, but Ro grabs my arm.

“Freddy, are you—”

I turn and corner her, hand over her head pressed into the wall as I settle my body nearly against hers.

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