Page 25 of Playing Dirty
Unless it’s the shit Phoenix and Wyatt said getting in my head? All their ridiculous chatter about how good looking he is could have poisoned my brain, making it so that’s the first thing I notice when he’s in various states of undress.
Of course, with the whole condom debacle we just had, I’m sure the rest of this time we spend in cohabitation will be miserable. It’s only two more days, but that also means two morenightssharing a bed, and at this point, nothing short of a lobotomy or a stiff drink is gonna do much to help me survive them.
I have to get out of here.
Thankfully, my mind chooses that moment to cling to another thing Phoenix said—this bit being far more appealing to me than anything regarding my stepbrother—and I pull out my phone to send a quick text to Camden.
Me: You’re near Snowline, right?
His response is almost immediate.
Cam: 20 mins away. Why?
Me: Down for a drink?
Cam: Awe, T. You miss me already? :)
I roll my eyes while my fingers fly over the keyboard before hitting send.
Me: More like you’re the lesser of two evils.
Cam: Well, you’ll have to double my evil if you wanna meet up, ’cause I’m about to grab dinner with my brother.
At this point, I’d take an army of Camdens in their most duncey form over a single Madden. Which is why I’m already grabbing my wallet and jacket when I send him a response.
Me: Text me the address.
Seven
Theo
“Look, I know it sounds insane, but I think he actually might have put a tracker on me.”
Camden takes a long drink from his beer, having just listened to me rambling for twenty minutes about my series of run-ins with Madden at the resort—including the condom incident—before simply murmuring, “I can see it.”
My roommate’s older brother, Marcus, on the other hand? He thinks we’ve both completely lost our marbles, if his gaping stare is anything to go by.
“I just want you to think about this for a second. Because you’re right, you do sound insane,” Marcus says, glancing between us some more. “A tracker? He’s not some super spy, he’s a college athlete.”
Cam finishes off the rest of his beer and immediately shakes his head. “Doesn’t need to be a spy. He just needs an AirTag. Lots ofathletes have those.”
I slump against the backrest of my barstool and stare at Cam, dumbstruck by the brilliance that just left his lips. “Oh, shit. I didn’t even think of that.”
My roommate tips his empty bottle at me in acknowledgment, but his brother still isn’t convinced.
“Are you two lightweights who need to be cut off already?” Marcus slowly utters.
I don’t know about Cam, but I shake my head, feeling perfectly fine with the steady intake of my alcohol. I’ve had two…no, three…whiskey and Cokes since meeting up with them a few hours ago, and I ate dinner with them before starting.
As much as I’m looking to take the edge off, I’m not looking to get plastered. Just hoping to hit that sweet spot between buzzed and drunk when I inevitably have to sleep in the same bed as Madden later tonight.
We head to the back of the bar for a quick game of darts after Cam buys another round. I’m just deep enough into that loose-lipped state that, when Marcus dips out to the bathroom, I use it as the opportunity to ask Cam something that’s been niggling at my brain all evening.
“Do you remember making out with me your freshman year?”
His lips purse, expression turning pensive while he throws the first two darts of his turn. He’s about to throw the third, but then he looks at me and laughs.
“Oh, shit. You’re right, I totally forgot about that.”
