Page 50 of The Worst Kind of Promise
I can tell she’s wary by the tentativeness of her footsteps, by the rise of her tits as she breathes through the unknown, by the flush of her skin as sweat masks the column of her throat.
“Okay, we’re gonna be in teams of four, and the first two partners will be playing Beer Pong. Faye, I’ll have you stand at the end with the cups, and I’ll be the one trying to get the ping-pong ball into one of them,” Gage explains, taking his position across from her.
Her eyebrows bunch. “What do I have to do?”
“You need to give me a backdrop, so the ping-pong ball doesn’t go flying.” Gage tests the imaginary arc of the ping pong ball with one bent arm, closing an eye to gauge the angle he has to throw it to land a shot on his first go. “So just bend over and…push your boobs up.”
My thoughts go into overdrive, and along with the lust niggling inside me, a lifeform of possessiveness resuscitates from his comment. He did not just say what I think he did, did he? I’m gonna choke that motherfucker until he passes out.
Hayes immediately stands up from his spot on the couch, shaking his head. “No way. No. My sister is not ‘pushing her boobs up’ so you can bounce a ping-pong ball off them.”
I feel a growl start to rake up my throat, and as much as I want to agree with Hayes, I know I outwardly can’t. It’ll be too suspicious, and I’ve pretty much lost my right to be protective over her.
Nobody should be looking at Faye’s tits, much less asking her to grab them and squeeze them together. Ah, fuck. That’s an image I really don’t need right now.
I’m not sure what I expected Faye to say, but for the first time tonight, she slowly scrapes her hickory irises over me. Her cheeks tick with a smile, and then she palms the sides of her breasts and pushes them up—not that they need much volume given the corset. “One boob wall coming up.”
Of course she’s going to make this fucking difficult.
You know how I was talking about that weird possessiveness flaring up again? Yeah, that’s not the only thing flaring up.Hey, dick. It’s me, Kit. I know we usually get along, but right now, I need you to deflate faster than a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. Don’t look at Faye’s breasts. Don’t look at Faye, period. Think about that time your grandmother fell down the stairs and died.
I doubt my morbid thinking would’ve worked in the first place, but thankfully, I hear the plop of the ping-pong ball, and Faye lets her hands fall away.
“Then, the partner who was the wall will drink. The next player from the team has to set the cup face-down on the table to flip it back to standing. Once the cup is right side up, the last player will try to bounce the ping-pong ball into it, and y’all will just rotate until every drink is empty,” Gage finishes, a dimple pocking the corner of his mouth.
Faye places her hands on her hips. “What are the teams?”
Gage’s eyes zip around the group, and I just know he’s plotting something in that messed-up head of his.
Do I want to be on Faye’s team? Yes? Do I want to be on the opposite team? I don’t know? This whole game feels like a bad idea. Faye’s pretty much going to distract me either way, so whoever does end up getting me on their team is gonna be carrying my dead weight.
“Me, Faye, Aeris, and Bristol will all be on a team, and Hayes, Kit, Fulton, and Casen will be on a team,” Gage decides with a smirk that spells trouble.
Faye looks at me, and she doesn’t just look at me, but she runs her tongue over her teeth. She’s getting back at me—playing on the sexual tension still between us and snapping it against my wrist like a rubber band. I’m taking the L now.
“And what’s the prize?” Faye questions.
Gage’s chuckle makes my blood go cold. “The winning team doesn’t get anything, but the losing team gets humiliated. If you lose, you have to pick someone from the winning team to mimic your favorite sex position with.”
It’s official: I hate Gage out of everyone on my hockey team. That pint-sized little shit makes me so unbelievably violent sometimes.
If Faye gets into a sex position with someone else—even if it is just a joke—I’m going to lose my shit. I need this opportunity to speak with her. I need to make things right. And there’s no way in hell that I’d ever let someone else get that close to her body.
I don’t care if the guys tease me for losing. Gage thinks this is humiliation, but this is liberation, baby. It’s a rule of the game. Nobody’s gonna think anything of it if I lose and just happen to pick Faye. Our secret is still safe.
Murmurs diffuse through the crowd, and I crack my neck as I pretend to put on a competitive face. I huddle with my team, having decided that Hayes and I will do Beer Pong, Fulton will do Flip Cup, and Casen will do Rage Cage.
And then, as everyone gets into position, with Aeris and Faye being the starting players on their team, the game commences.
I’m responsible for shooting the ping-pong ball into one of the cups, and I’m able to peek out of the corner of my eye to catch Faye pushing her goddamn tits up again, which makes me completely miss my throw. Hayes is screaming at me to get a grip while he’s pushing his own pecs up, but I’m so far gone that I’m beginning to lose control over my arm. The ball goes flying in every conceivable direction, not even skirting off rims but evading them entirely. I’m trying here…sort of. The guys know I have much better aim than this.
Hayes digs the heel of his palm into his forehead. “Kit, come on!”
“Sorry. I’m, uh, off my game tonight,” I lie.
Aeris misses a few times, scrambling around and panicking as her team cheers her on. My team, on the other hand, continues to creatively threaten me if I don’t make it in within the next second.
Newsflash: I don’t.
