Page 24 of Lost Boy
Shit.
Got deep. Too fucking deep.
I step back before my semi presses into his stomach and ruins the night. “I’m going to grab my bag and get ready in the bathroom. I can meet you downstairs or. . . in your room?” It’s his choice.
“My room,” he answers shyly, and we separate. He heads upstairs while I grab my gym bag and use the downstairs bathroom.
When I open the door to Fallon’s room, he’s already completely ready and lounging on his bed, playingMortal Kombat.
He’s wearing the same ripped black jeans, but his T-shirt is solid black this time, with holes all over it, and a blue and black buffalo plaid flannel tied around his slim hips. His blue and black hair is wet and shaggy, uncombed and hanging in a mess.
Fuck me, he looks good.
“If Sofie saw you right now, she’d say you were cheating. You’re not allowed to practice and get better when she’s not around. It’s against the rules,” I tell him.
“Whose rules?”
“Princess Sofia,” I answer in all seriousness. Doesn’t he get it by now?
Fallon snorts, and I almost see a smile.
Fucking score!
Maybe Sofie is his soft spot too.
“Wanna head out early? Cole always has good food, and I like to eat it before everyone else touches it.”
“We just ate,” he states, sounding confused.
“Yeah, but my body is big and already digesting it, so I should probably eat before I start drinking, ya know?”
He snorts again, and I smile, warmth blooming in my chest whenever he gives me something. I might spontaneously combust if he actually smiles, becoming a burnt patch in Joel’s recliner and another unsolved mystery.
I check my phone. “Uber’s here. Let’s go.”
I grab my thick letterman jacket as we head out the door, and Fallon slips on a worn-out jean jacket with more holes. I don’t say anything, but we need to fix this. I’m taking him shopping for his birthday. Store or online. His choice.
“We’re leaving, Sofie! Set the alarm, okay?”
“Okay! Bye!” she hollers back from upstairs in her room. She’s never done anything like sneak out or lie, so I trust her to stay home. She’s old enough that Fallon and I can leave her alone and go to a party. We have a security system. It’ll be fine.
* * *
We pull up to Cole’s mansion, right on the lake. The spotlights are on, showcasing the nearly all-glass exterior mixed with natural wooden beams and sharply angled steel architecture. The privacy screen is off, and we can see inside the elaborately decorated home built into the lakeside cliffs. Acadia Lake is beautiful, and Cole’s house is one of the biggest lakefront properties.
His parents are criminal defense attorneys and represent some pretty nasty people and pretty big cases. I’m actually a little terrified of them and tend to stay away unless they’re out of town like they are now when Cole throws his ridiculous ragers.
Fallon is pretty street-smart. I think. I’m sure I don’t need to warn him to be careful at a house party. Even though it’s Cole’s house, we can’t always control all the drugs or alcohol brought in. And I bet some of our rivals from Jefferson High, the public school across town, might show up. The pricks are always starting shit, trying to haze us. They spray Silly String on our cars, toilet paper our houses, and somehow bleached half the teams’ jerseys last month. It was a shit show, that one.
These parties get crazy, so I don’t plan to leave his side because of his size and because he doesn’t talk much and tends to check out. That makes him an easy target, especially for pricks at Jefferson like Seth Nelson.
Ever since eighth grade, when I dunked on him, he’s had it out for me. He’s grown a lot since then and nearly rivals my height, but I can still dunk on his ass, and he’s mad about it.
“Thanks, dude,” I tell the Uber driver and hop out, Fallon following suit.
Cole leaves his door unlocked for these parties, so we walk right in and help ourselves to the food just as the catering service sets it out.
“Cruz! You can’t even say hello to a guy before chowing down on his buffet?” Cole shouts, cackling at his own innuendo.
