Page 18 of Catch
“What?” I ask.
“You’d think you were the one getting cue-balled,” Hudson quips, and the rest of the guys laugh.
When the door opens, I expect to be greeted by a cocky hockey forward with intense eyes. Instead, it’s one of Ethan’s frat brothers. I met him once, but his name eludes me. It’s Matty… I think. Fuck, I can’t recall. Faces I’m good with, but names, not so much. The guy’s cute—in a preppy way—with a perfect smile, ash-brown curls, and black-framed glasses.
“It’s the Crew, our guests of honor!”
“I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Jett,” I offer, along with my hand.
“Marshall.” He shakes it, and I feel myself start to settle down. “And you’re right. I mean, we bumped into each other at Ethan’s birthday blowout, but I honestly don’t remember much about that night. Everyone was partying hard.”
“Yeah, the whole night is hazy,” I reply and then do the introductions all around.
He motions for our group to enter the house.
“We’re still waiting on a few of the hockey team to arrive, and then the fun really begins.”
Marshall’s smile turns downright naughty as he rubs his hands together. It tells me that he’s looking forward to tonight’s antics as much as we are.
“I have to say, this is quite the turn of events. I’m not used to seeing Ethan lose at anything,” Marshall continues.
“Every dog has his day,” I reply.
“I heard that.”
Suddenly Ethan appears in the doorway wearing tight, worn jeans and a white T-shirt that’s so thin it’s almost transparent. It doesn’t matter that he looks like he’s rolled out of bed, he still looks fucking gorgeous.
It irks me like nothing else.
Asshole.
“I only speak the truth,” I snap back.
Ignoring his glare, I look around and spy most of the hockey team gathered in the living room. It’s a low-key party, not wall-to-wall students, ear-shattering music, and beer like it was last week. Not yet, anyway.
“See you in the kitchen,” Ethan mutters.
He turns on his heel and stalks off.
The guy might be the loser in this scenario, but his swagger is still confident as fuck. And why I notice is beyond me.
“Kitchen?” I ask Marshall.
“No carpeting. Easier clean up.”
“Right.”
Marshall cocks his head.
“Let’s get this party started. How about a round of shots?”
“I don’t think we’re the ones who need a drink, but why not?”
We follow Marshall to where the Cougars are gathered, and after a round of fist bumps, we all make our way to the back of the house. The kitchen is surprisingly neat and clean, and my gaze drifts to the fifty or so shots lined up on the island. Either we’re having a shit ton to drink tonight or they’re expecting more students to arrive.
I also notice several electric razors lying on the counter, ready and waiting for us, and when I glance up, Ethan’s staring daggers at me.
It’s unnerving, but I refuse to look away. Without thinking, I reach for a shot. Holding his gaze, I bring it up to my mouth and swallow it down in one go. It’s surprisingly good tequila, not the cheap shit. I relish the burn and reach for another, but Ethan leans forward and gives my hand a teasing smack.
