Page 3 of Personal Foul
“Whoa. Slow down there, champ.” Ben frowns at me.
“I shouldn’t have fucking come. It’s like a highlight reel of failure out here.”
“You keep going that hard you’re gonna have another unpleasant highlight reel.” Ben shakes his head at me.
I shrug it off and wander out to the back porch where I can hopefully drink in peace. Their back porch is enclosed and heated—the place where they still do their laundry in the wintertime. I take a deep breath and another chug from the bottle, thankful to get two seconds of clarity. But that quickly turns out to be a failure because it’s where I discover Liam and Liv and given the position I find them both in I groan and turn my back, and run a hand over my eyes.
“You two have to fucking put a sign on the door or something. Give a fucking warning. Damn!” I feel my way back to the door and open it as I hear Liv giggling in the background and Liam grumping about something.
I know it’s hypocritical of me to complain but fuck, I need a break tonight. A place to escape. And that’s when I see the stairs. I know we’re not supposed to go up there. That the whole upper floor is off-limits, but I feel like I’m part of the inner circle at this point, and given the circumstances they’ll probably cut me some slack.
I hurry up them and find the door to Wren’s room open. She’s never here. Always works late nights at the bar, and sometimes there’s just a quick blur of her through the living room when she gets home in the wee hours of the morning. It’s still earlyish right now. Which means I can’t bother her by hiding out in her room for a little while. I can be in and out before she even knows, with the added bonus that I can sneak a look around her room.
I creak open the door when I get to it, half expecting her to be sitting on her bed telling me to go to hell. It’s dark, and I flick on a light on the desk to partially illuminate the room. Posters line one wall, bands and what I assume are some of her favorite sports teams. There’s a smattering of furniture; her bed, a bookcase, a dresser, and a desk and chair.
When I glance down at her desk, there’s a handful of photos that have been printed out. A gorgeous woman sprawled out on a bed in hot as fuck lingerie. She’s straddling a chair in others, and on the floor with the rain pouring down on her in the last set. I briefly wonder if this explains the lack of boyfriends in Wren’s life and her absolute disgust in me until I look closer and realize the photos areher. I snatch them up, looking closer. Trying to reconcile the woman who tells me to go to hell on a regular basis with the one in these photos. I sit down on the bed and bust out the light on my phone, taking a swig of vodka to try and chill my fucking nerves because holyfuckis she a fucking knockout.
I’d always thought she was cute. She has a beautiful face and a cupid’s bow mouth that most guys would fantasize about. But my favorite part of her has always been the way she uses that mouth to slice me in half while barely batting an eyelash. She’s mean as hell and it’s hot as fuck. We’ve had more than one argument while we were out with our friends that ended in me wanting to rip her clothes off and fuck her against a wall. I’ve wanted her for a while on the basis of that alone because I can only imagine how that attitude would translate in bed. I’ve been dying to fucking find out. But I had no idea this is what she looked like under all the ill-will and malice.Fuck.I shuffle through them again. No way am I going to unsee this.
I’m super curious why she has them. She doesn’t strike me as particularly vain and if there’s no boyfriend to send them to, there are limited other reasons. And now I’m starting to wonder if she has a secret double life we don’t know about. Like I know she works at the bar, but she’s thereallthe fucking time. What if it’s code for something else?
I lay back on the bed and lay them out next to me, grabbing my phone to snap a couple of pictures of them. Is it highly unethical and a little bit of a dick move? Yeah. But I’m going to need to look at these again when I’m sober. Then I’ll delete them and pretend like I didn’t even know they existed. Except the temptation to taunt her about their existence is going to be sky fucking high.
I smile as I think about the kind of arguments I could start with her. The ways I could get under her skin. I close my eyes imagining it, telling myself I should really set an alarm so I’m out of here before she gets home.
THREE
Wren
When I get homethat night, the house is overrun with people and I can barely get through my own front door. Part of the reason they moved the party to our place is because they expected there would be fewer people, not more, and I’m shocked by the turnout. I spot Liv from across the room, and mouth, “Holy shit,” to her as I look wide-eyed at the massive gathering. She makes her way over to me, dodging bodies and drinks on the way, and helps me squeeze into the kitchen.
“What’s happening?” I ask as I hand her a bag of ice I’ve brought home from the bar.
“I guess they all wanted to show support. For Liam and the guys and everything. They had a phenomenal season even if they didn’t get the ending they’d hoped for.” She gives a half smile and a small shrug, glancing over at Liam across the room.
“Well yeah, but damn. This is a lot of people. The house might collapse.”
“Right? This is actually quieter than it was about an hour ago. They were spilling out into the yard then. I’m hoping people are going to start making their way out soon. Like go to a bar or go home, but they can’t stay here. If they don’t, I might have Liam or Waylon start dropping hints.”
“Good plan.” I nod, waving across the room to our other roommate Kenz who’s sitting in her boyfriend Waylon’s lap at the moment.
“Love you!” she yells and raises her cup in the air to toast me, and I yell that I love her too before I look back to Liv.
“All right, well I’m gonna go get changed and then I’ll be down. Let me know what I can help with.”
“Take your time.” She shakes her head. “You just got off your shift. You deserve a break.”
“All right. Well, I’ll be back down in a bit.”
I hurry my way up the steps, happy to get away from the crowds. The upstairs portion of our house has long been off-limits to party guests, complete with a rope we keep across the steps to deter people. So it’s a good respite when I need a break from peopling on nights like this. And honestly, I hope I don’t just crash and burn in my bed tonight because after the day I’ve had I don’t know that I have either mourning or merriment in me.
When I get in my room, I toss my coat and my purse on a hook on the back of the door and pull my T-shirt off, trying to decide what I feel like wearing tonight or if I even want to bother with getting dressed up. This is probably another reason I’m single. I’m too tired to put effort into it.
“As much as I appreciate the view, not really in the mood for a strip show right now, Princess,” a voice comes from my bed, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
I hit the light switch and look to see the tall muscular figure of one of my least favorite people sprawled out across my bed, thankfully still fully clothed and without company.
“Easton, what the fuck are you doing in here?”
