Page 118 of Endgame

“Your bed?” I slurred, snuggling into his chest.

Rourke chuckled. “When I take you in my bed, Six, you’re going to be in your full senses.”

Mercedes

PAIN LIKE I NEVER knew existed was searing through my eyeballs. The sunlight beaming through my window only made the already horrible sensation a million times more unbearable.

Slumped in the passenger seat of Rourke’s truck on our way to school, I remained perfectly still, afraid that the slightest movement might cause my already upset stomach to turn mutinous against my body.

“You good, Six?” Rourke asked with an annoyingly upbeat voice as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Uh, not really,” I confessed, hugging myself and wishing for some divine intervention. I was a good kid. In seventeen years, I’d only gotten drunktwice. I didn’t think I deserved to suffer a hangover of this magnitude. “Actually, do you think you could drive me home?”So I can die in solitude.

Rourke frowned. “We’re here now.”

“Oh.” Shit. “Okay.”

Rourke pulled into his usual parking space in the student lot. Killing the engine, he leaned back in his seat and turned to look at me, his brows creased in concern. “I’ll take you home if you’re really not up to school,” he offered, eyes searching mine.

“No,” I said wearily. “It’s fine. It serves me right for drinking on a school night.”

I expected Rourke to laugh or tease me for my outrageous behavior last night.

He did neither.

Instead, he leaned across the console, and cupped my cheek with his hand. “I called Molly,” he said softly, leaning close. “She agreed to drive your car to school for you.”

“You did?” My heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, blue eyes still locked on mine. “If you feel sick during the day and want to bail, just text me and I’ll make it happen.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Rourke leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, effectively shutting me up. “If not, I’ll meet you at home after school,” he whispered against my lips. “We can hang out.”

Hang out?

Christ… “Okay,” I breathed.

Rourke

“I HEARD A NASTY little rumor today,” Bear announced as we loaded our gym bags into the trunk of my Chevy after football practice on Friday evening. “Wanna hear about it?”

“Nope,” I shot back. I didn’t give a shit. “Couldn’t care less, man.” Bear never gave a shit about idle gossip, which was why I was confused as to why he was bringing this up to me now.

Closing the trunk, I walked around to the front of my truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. “You coming?” I called out, thrumming my hands against the steering wheel. I was anxious as hell to get home and hadn’t planned on having to drive Bear, too. Of course, knowing Six was there waiting on me was a hugely motivating factor.

“It’s about Mercedes,” Bear explained, climbing into the passenger seat.

That got my attention.

Cranking the engine, I slipped my truck out of gear and gave my friend my full attention. “Let’s have it.”

“I hooked up with Clary Fisher during lunch today.” He looked a little embarrassed as he spoke. “You know; the cheerleader with the huge rack?”

I nodded in acknowledgment. Clary Fisher had been born with a pair of tits that were made to motor boat. I had no doubt that’s exactly what Bear did during lunch – in between screwing her, that is. “What about her?” I asked.

“Clary said Britt told her it’s over between you guys because you hooked up with your, and I quote, “dirty skank of a stepsister” behind her back and she gave you the uh, gift that keeps on giving.”

My entire body stiffened. “Are you fucking serious?” Was Britt honestly spreading shit about Six having herpes? I slammed my hand on the steering wheel in frustration. “What a bitch.”

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