Page 57 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
“Really, Fulton? You’ve never cheated on a test?” Bristol inquires, languorously swishing his drink around in his hands.
Did I mention that Fulton is definitelynotdressed like an apple? He’s dressed in a pressed button-up, suspenders, and square-framed glasses.
“And jeopardize my chance of getting into a good college? God no.” He shudders, committing to the nerd bit by pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.
Every single person drinks, including me. When I was spending sleepless nights working shifts at the restaurant, Ididn’t have time to study for tests. This will probably be the only time I drink during the entire game. I’m just realizing now how…abnormal…my adolescent years have been. I didn’t get to live like a regular teenager and make the occasional reckless decision.
Gage chuckles at his friend’s ridiculousness, having switched from periodically squeezing my shoulder to tracing patterns on my arm with his fingers. There’s nothing inherently sexual about touching someone’s arm, but I nearly moan.
Bristol—who’s rocking eye black and a football jersey—goes next, cataloguing the bored state of the players and obviously cooking up something troublesome in his head. “Never have I ever…had sex in public,” he declares, holding his solo cup up to cheers with our side of the room. “That includes oral.”
Multiple groans peal throughout the space, and I watch as Faye drinks her ginger ale, Kit drinks, Aeris and Hayes drink, and of course, Gage drinks.
I glare at him, a growl rumbling in my chest. I thought this game was supposed to be fun. In fact, this is so unfun that I’d rather take my chances in the very unsafe mosh pit that’s formed over by the sound system.
Gage’s dilated pupils bore into me, and the stupidest smirk ticks up his lips. “Spitfire, are you jealous?”
“Of course not!” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest and pouting like a petulant child. Nobody’s focused on us, thank God, as they continue on with the game I’ve lost interest in.
“Are you sure?” he drawls, nipping playfully at my earlobe. “I wouldn’t blame you. I know I’m irresistible.”
“You’re irritating.”
“You’re fucking hot when you’re mad, you know that?” The lushness of Gage’s lips suddenly hardens into a bite, and he pulls on my lobe slightly with his teeth. “Even hotter when you’re jealous.”
I want to shove him away and give him a complementary slap, but I love the feel of his mouth on my ear. My back arches against the sofa, and I have to remind myself that we’re in public, and that my resolve is stronger than this.
Faye’s airy voice saves me from my own destructive tendencies. “Never have I ever…played hockey.”
The entire team drinks, and Faye and Aeris share a smile with each other. I think Fulton drinks for the first time tonight, and I’m glad I’m not the only sheltered person here.
I need to drink. I’m not drunk enough to be here right now, to pretend like Gage isn’t singlehandedly ripping out the nails of the boarded-up enclosure keeping my sex-hungry beast at bay.
Josie takes her turn, wearing the same skeletal makeup as Casen, except she’s in a miniature black dress as opposed to his full leather outfit. “Never have I ever…given someone a lap dance.”
Fucking finally.
Surprisingly, Kit downs his drink. I almost don’t want to know.
I have over half of my beer still left, and the minute the rim touches my lips, I chug the entire thing. I begin to regret it when the alcohol plops into my stomach like expired milk, but I soldier through until there’s nothing left.
Gage stares at me. Everyone stares at me.
“You gave someone a lap dance?” he exclaims, jealousy lining his tone, a muscle in his jaw bunching with enough strain to crack enamel.
Correction: I gaveHadleya lap dance, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I guess we’re both full of surprises,” I mutter, standing up and making my way to the kitchen to refill my cup.
Gage tails after me, grabbing me by the elbow and spinningme around to face him, the full extent of his rage unleashed in the fiery depths of his eyes.
“Who did you give a lap dance to, Cali?”
Anger spars for dominance over my features. “Who did you have sex with in public, Gage?”
He expels a guttural growl, not bothering to hide how infuriated he is with me, the hockey-hardened muscles in his biceps flexing. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
“Maybe it’s none of your business,” I snarl, turning on my heel so my hair goes flying in his face.
