Page 112 of Home Game

Again and again, the music started. The guys became more competitive. The game became rougher as we pushed and shoved each other with ferocity. We laughed. We grunted. Each time I grabbed Zoey and pulled her down onto my lap. Which, I won’t lie, was my favorite part. She fit in my lap perfectly, and each time I took full advantage of the situation by wrapping my arms around her and cradling her to my chest. I wanted to kick everyone out. I wanted to pull her back onto my lap and kiss her neck. I wanted to hear how the breath hitched out of her throat when my lips touched her skin.

Soon it was Zoey, myself, another couple and Jensen circling two cushions.

The music stopped. Jensen and I were both on one side of the two cushions. Zoey was on the other. I moved quicker than him, but he tackled me. I hit the floor and immediately rolled over, taking him with me.

“She’s mine,” he gritted out.

“Not a chance,” I rolled off him, trying to get to my feet. He jumped on top of me.

The fun was over. This no longer was about cushions or music. This was about something else.

I worked to free myself from him when the first punch landed on my chin. More instinct, than anything, had me swinging back. I landed my fist square on his cheek and his head snapped back.

I heard ahigh pitch scream but my only focus was Jensen and his killer punches. He hit my eye socket. I heard the crunch of his nose as my fist connected with it.

“Break them up,” someone yelled.

Arms hauled me to my feet, dragged me away from Jensen.

He was breathing as hard as I was. Blood trickled from his nose. Murder was in his eyes.

I felt something wet trickle down the side of my face. I wiped it with my fingers. Blood colored my fingertips. The guy’s knuckles had split the skin above my eyebrow.

My eyes searched Zoey’s. She stood there, both of her hands over her mouth, her eyes filled with tears.

Mica put his arm around me and yanked me hard through the shocked crowd. “Everyone get a drink. I’m going to clean this guy up.”

“You got a med kit?” Mica asked, from my bathroom.

“Under the sink,” I sat on my bed. I felt like complete shit. “I need to see if Zoey is okay.”

“You need to cool off,” he came out of the bathroom and tossed me a wet hand towel. I wiped the blood from my cheek while he dug through my kit.

He inspected my brow. “Don’t think you’ll need stitches. Just a couple butterfly bandages and you’ll be good as new.”

I sat still while he washed my cut with antiseptic.

“So does she know?” He asked, not looking at me.

“Does who know?”

“Does Zoey know how you feel?”

We made eye contact. “It’s not like that.”

He snorted. “I think it is.”

I winced when he pinched the cut together to apply the first bandage. “She’s a friend.”

“She is that, but she’s more than that. And Jensen, he feels the same way too.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Maybe you should tell her.”

I watched as he closed up the kit. “It’s complicated. Zoey came to stay here. She didn’t trust anyone. And I made a promise to her that this situation was without strings. I promised her I’d never touch her.”

“Zoey isn’t the same person that she was when she arrived. When I first met her, she was wary and skittish like a scared cat. Now, she’s like a flower, opening up to the world.”

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