Page 72 of Ecstasy
“Did you at least have it professionally cleaned?” I ask instead of mentioning any of that shit. Instead of thinking of Eli pushing me under in it or what we did together.
I meet Alex’s gaze, but he’s still staring at me with a mixture of pity and something like desire. But for what? Why did he really invite me here? Is this where we have our pivotal relationship talk? Is this where I confide in him like I did Jax?
I don’t want to do that.
I’m here to get stupid drunk. Maybe piss Eli off. Or turn him on.
I don’t want to bond with Alex over Rihanna’s dead body.
Finally, he just shakes his head. “Yeah, we did. You want to get in again? I could help you out. Like last time.”
I shoot him a glare.
He holds up his hands, all innocence. “Okay, okay. You’re right. We’ll save it for later when you’re drunk and will definitely drown.”
I just stare at him, equally horrified and amused. He really is a dick but that’s one of the things I like about him. I’m not exactly a good person, either. “I’m not sure if you’re joking or not.”
He shrugs, slips his hands into his pockets. “Me neither.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Where’s your posse? Why are you alone right now? Aren’t there girls dying to suck your dick or dudes waiting for you to flash another girl’s tits so they can make a video? Why’d you have to invite your ex over, huh?” I turn away from him, not really wanting an answer, and grab a cup from the stack of them, flip it over and fill it with about two shots worth of tequila.
At least, I thinkit’s two shots, but Alex whistles.
Ignoring all my questions, he just says, “Careful, Zara. I think we’ve all learned the key to pool safety is staying sober.”
“Too late for that,” I mutter, grabbing the seltzer water and pouring it in. When it fizzes to my satisfaction, I cap that shit and then hold the cup to my lips, turning to Alex.
He meets my gaze.
Something in his eyes makes me lower the cup. “What?”
“What you said,” he muses, his eyes gleaming. I see the amber flecks in them again and I feel myself getting stupid from how hot he is. Why does he have to be so fine? Why are quarterbacks always hot anyway? It’s like some trick God pulled to make cocky athletes even cockier.
And why do they always do bad shit?
“About girls waiting to suck my dick,” he continues.
I force myself to drink, even though I aminterested in hearing where the hell he’s going with this. Did he just invite me back tonight to hurt me like I hurt him? Maybe this was all just a big setup and I was stupid enough to fall for it.
“Would you mind?” he asks me.
I nearly spit out the tequila in my mouth. But instead, I swallow, hard, blinking up at him. “Excuse me?”
He shrugs. “If I went upstairs right now to get my dick sucked, would you mind?” His eyes flick upward with his words, and instead of immediately lashing out at him like I want to, I try to imagine it. He jerks his head back, indicating the pool. “There’s a pretty hot redhead out there right now that I know for a fact would jump at the chance.”
I narrow my eyes at him. I know the redhead. Her name is Molly, and I know that she and Alex used to fuck around. But that was before me. “Be my fucking guest.”
Who am I to stop him?
I think about Eli’s fingers inside of me. About his hand on my scars.
“I’m serious,” Alex says, interrupting my thoughts. “I gotta get off somehow, and you don’t have a good track record recently of helping me out.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Answer the question. Think about it if you have to.”
I want to throw this cup in his face, just like I did two weeks ago in front of Dwight. I want to slap him. I want to tell him he’s an idiot, and that if he’s trying to make me jealous it’s fucking working.
