Page 9 of Playing the Pucking Game
“So,” I start once the engine is purring and I have the heat cranked up to help dry us off.
“So,” she repeats.
“If you want to go to your boyfriend’s, you’re going to need to give me his address.” I fucking hate saying the words. Even if she’s lying, they taste bitter on my tongue. But I need her to tell me what I already suspect.
There is no boyfriend. There hasn’t been for some time.
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, and I immediately want to celebrate.
“I hate you,” she mutters under her breath.
“I know. And isn’t it so much fun?”
She makes a weird noise at the back of her throat that I can’t decipher, and my obnoxious smile grows wider.
Fuck, I love riling her up.
“I bet it didn’t take you this long to tell your Uber driver where to go.”
“No, and he’d have given me less shit, too.”
Taking matters into my own hands, I put my car into reverse and back out onto the street before taking off in the direction of Parker’s apartment. She lives on the same side of town as me. Our apartments aren’t all that far apart, something I’ve thought about more times than I’ve actually been there—which is all of once, when Rett and I helped move her in a couple of summers ago.
She used me for my muscles and then sent me on my way. She didn’t even invite me for a thank-you meal, which I think is rude, but whatever.
“Just take me home,” she finally says, although it’s so quiet, if I weren’t paying attention, I’d miss it.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask like an asshole.
“Fuck’s sake, Linc,” she mutters. “I said, just take me home.”
“But your boyfriend will be so disappointed.”
“I’m sure he’ll get over it.”
“Yeah,” I muse, desperately trying to hold back a laugh.
Silence falls as I continue driving to her place. The roads are dead. Everyone is either still partying or sleeping.
Parker shifts, and I glance over as she twists my way, pulls her legs up to her chest, and rests her head against the seat, her eyelids lowering.
Her features almost instantly relax, leaving her looking peaceful and beautiful. I mean, she’s always beautiful, but it’s different when she’s not throwing barbs at me.
Her red hair is wild after a night of partying and drinking; her makeup is smudged and sexy, and her lips are full and unbelievably kissable.
I think back to midnight, and fire shoots through me.
Only once has a kiss ever affected me so potently. But the less I think about that right now, the better.
“Shit,” I hiss, swerving sharply to miss a parked car.
Parker mumbles something, but I’m pretty sure she’s passed out.
I drive with her snoring lightly next to me, lost in my own world, but it all comes crashing down as I turn the final corner and drive straight into a scene of devastation.
“Fuck. Parker,” I say, reaching out to wake her. “Parker, you need to?—”
“Are we here?” she murmurs sleepily.
