Page 21 of Cross the Line
“What if I want to talk tomysister?”
“You’re the last person she wants to talk to.” I shove him back, but he can hold his liquor like most of the other guys on the team. “She doesn’t even like you.”
Presley chuffs cooly, glancing over his shoulder at his buddies. Before I can gather my wits, they’re on me.
Pinning me to the carpet while Ryker tries to diffuse Presley.
“He fucked you yet, Hallman?” Presley sneers, snatching the bottle of liquor from Ryker’s hand. “Or maybe you fucked him? Who’s the fucking ass bandit? The taker?”
“We’re friends, dickhead. More than you can say about most people on this team.”
The sound of muffled laughter echoes in the distance as Sullivan’shand wraps around my throat to stop me from fighting against his and Martins’ hold. I can’t hear much above the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears.
My vision begins to haze when Presley yanks Ryker up by the collar of his shirt and throws him on top of me. His thighs are straddling my hips, and his entire body is shaking over mine as he ignores whatever Presley tells him at first.
“Do it,” Presley screams, sending the entire room quiet as he pours more of the liquor on my chest. “Fucking lick it, gay boy.”
Ryker lets out a long breath. His thighs squeeze around my hips with the downward motion of his body when he leans down over my chest. He never looks me in my eyes before he licks my vodka-soaked shirt from one side of my chest to the other.
“Stop,” I sputter, my nails clawing at the short, clumpy pile beneath me while Martins continues pinning my arms to the floor. “Stop. Stop…”
My eyes screw shut at the deluge of liquor Presley pours into my desperate gasp while Sullivan squeezes my throat. Choking on the overflowing burn, I focus on the throb taking over my head, my panicked thoughts, my senses while Ryker licks up my neck, sucking the overflowing liquor from my jaw before he laps it out of my mouth.
My phone rings endlessly. My head throbs. My pulse pounds.
I don’t know when it stops, but the weight of Ryker’s body hangs on to my body after he climbs off me. Sullivan and Martins’ grip on my arms clings to my skin when I flip onto my front and drag myself across the green carpet, crawling all the way to the door before I pick myself up.
I don’t look behind me as I open the door and leave. I don’t know how I feel. How anything feels as I breathlessly trudge the several steps to my room and fall inside.
My gut revolts against me before I’ve barely made it to the toilet. I can’t stop myself from vomiting over and over while I pray that it’ll help steady me. The overwhelming dizziness is the worst, and it’s suddenly so hot that I can’t breathe.
“Shit, are you okay?” Ryker asks.
I glance sideways over the rim of the toilet to where he’s standing in the bathroom doorway.
“Go away!” My yell morphs to a retch that pulls all my organs up into my throat.
I don’t have anything left in me to fight him when he wraps his arms around my chest and pulls me up to my feet, part dragging me back into the bedroom.
“This wasn’t meant to happen,” he says. “Hughes said it would just be some low-key hazing. He said it was just a game…”
I don’t know where the last ripcord of energy comes from, but I twist in his arms. Shoving him away from me, I stumble into the wall opposite the bathroom.
“You planned it?” Ryker looks down at his feet, holding out my phone to me. “You wanted to humiliate me.”
He shakes his head. “It’s just fun. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I trusted him.
What a fool, my gut jeers.
“Elijah,” Ryker takes a step forward when I snatch my phone from his hand. “It’s what teams do…”
“Get the fuck out, Hallman,” I bark, throwing my phone onto my bed. “Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.”
“Elijah…” I stumble as I swerve his reach, only for him to lunge for me. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Get the fuck off me,” I scream at the same time as vomit erupts from my mouth, garbling my words while I shove him out of my way, into the bedroom door.
