28. MADDIE

CHAPTER 28

MADDIE

" W here's Aran?"

I glance up from the Jell-O shot I'm about to take, thinking the question is for me, but Ryan's attention is on Jamal. A flush rises up my throat because who the heck am I to think I speak for Aran?

The Nigerian-descent forward checks his phone, and above the din, he shouts, "Apparently he's having dinner with his family. His older sis and her fiancé are in town."

"Cassiano's in town? I want his autograph!" Ryan pulls out her phone and types furiously on it, probably to ask Aran for the prize.

I push down the Jell-O shot. It tastes like medicine, if medicine were like a big clump of glue that burns your esophagus as it makes the trip down.

"Geh." I stick my tongue out and pile the empty plastic cup on the stack at the coffee table.

The Strikes commandeered the big sofa in the living room of what is known as the Bolt House. Five guys from the team live here, including Jamal and Mark. Tonight, there isn't a single corner of this house that isn't teeming with players, their friends and strangers.

A beer pong tournament has taken over the kitchen, with the added twist of using cheese puffs instead of ping-pong balls. It amps up the difficulty level and also makes the beer taste like crap with piss. I tried it earlier and nearly upchucked, but fortunately, I lost on the very first round.

Behind us, people are attempting to dance to a playlist that blares out of some truly powerful speakers set on the fireplace mantel. I chose this corner of the sofa so I can be close to the roaring fire, because the dress Christine weaseled me into makes me cold. It's a little black number that is so tight I had to wear shapewear underneath, except there's no hiding my bare shoulders or the great display of cleavage happening. At least she let me wear warm tights.

I push half my hair over one shoulder and half over the other so at least I can warm them up a bit. Maybe also to cover a bit of the boobage threatening to spill over.

"We'll get you with a man tonight," she said with a wink as we got ready at Amber's before the party.

"Or two. We don't judge." Amber laughed.

But I saw Ryan narrowing her eyes at me through the mirror. I kept applying mascara as if I hadn't seen it, and as if she couldn't read my mind.

Last week, when I had the horrible cramps, Aran and I fell asleep in my bed and Ryan found us. The noise of my door opening woke me up while I was half sprawled on top of Aran, and even though he somehow didn't stir, I remember the look on Ryan's face.

First, it was true shock. Round mouth, wide eyes, eyebrows as far up as they go. And then she cringed, as if she were watching a train wreck about to happen.

We didn't talk about it afterward, which is what I was expecting. But she gets extra contemplative if I mention Aran's name. Or if someone utters it around me. I think she's waiting for me to admit I have feelings for him. Meanwhile, I'm trying to avoid showing her I'm just like every other girl on campus, salivating over our resident bad boy with the moody eyes, the velvet lips, and the chocolate bar abs.

"That was disgusting, right?" Amber says, grimacing before she shakes her head. "Let's do another."

As if we share a single brain cell, we reach for a new glass of Jell-O shots each, clink them together, and chug. Good gravy, this one tastes even worse.

Jamal holds the tray with shots away from us, making a face. "Yeah, okay. That's enough for you ladies."

"What?"

"Boo!"

"You're fired as a waiter, Amadi."

"No tip for you, sir."

At the Strikes' heckling, he shakes his head and turns away to keep distributing the nasty concoction to invitees. Normally, I wouldn't take shots in this kind of situation, but I saw Mark and Archie making them in the kitchen when we arrived an hour ago. And actually, I trust these guys. I know Aran would murder them if they stepped out of line.

I trust Aran, I guess.

For the billionth time, I scope the perimeter as discreetly as possible in hopes of sighting a certain TDH. But there are two people making out in a corner next to a group of guys who don't notice them while engaged in some sort of debate. Besides them, one of the younger Bolts is attempting a keg stand while some people record it. There's stomping down the stairs, and someone shouts about not being able to find their coat. The song changes to a club banger that makes half the living room erupt into cheers, and a girl literally jumps on a guy in the middle of the dance floor to kiss him.

Everywhere, people are having fun. Technically, so am I. The Strikes are noisy and hilarious, and they treat me like one of their own even though we've virtually just met. But something's missing. Something shaped like a six-foot-four iceberg.

"Would you look at that! The king of the clowns finally makes an appearance," one of the Strikes says, pointing at the door.

My heart stops and then gallops at full speed as Aran Rodriguez himself walks through the front door, wearing all black, as if we'd coordinated outfits on purpose.

His eyes are on mine like he spotted me the second he walked in, but someone gets in the way to fist bump him. His attention shifts to that guy, and then the next handshake, and then to a girl who hugs him as if they know each other, even though his expression says he has no idea who she is.

Those dark eyes lift to me again, and I check my surroundings. Unless he's checking out the girl dancing behind me, he really seems to be looking at me.

Maybe I shouldn't have pushed my hair forward. He'd probably enjoy the whole boob spillage situation.

"I can see Rodriguez's ego growing with every new person who showers him with praise," Ryan says from Amber's other side.

Christine leans forward from her end of the couch. "Let's give him a pass tonight. He did make a save for the history books. But tomorrow, we go back to giving him crap."

"Fine. Rain on my parade, why don't you." But Ryan laughs. "Anyone want to play another game of beer pong with me?"

"Pass." I make a yuck face. "I can't possibly do another beer-soaked cheese puff."

"Okay, fair."

"I'm in." Amber scoots forward to dislodge herself from the depths of the couch. "Let's find some Bolts and knock them down a peg."

"Beautiful plan." Ryan jumps to her feet, and they lace arms as they make their way to the kitchen to wage war on their ancestral enemy.

Christine offers her hand over to me. "Let's go dance, Maddie."

"Um, I'm not much of a dancer."

"Not when sober, maybe."

"Hmm. Good point." Grinning, I grab her hand, and together, with stumbling feet, we round the couch to join the mass of people jumping to the beat of a '90s classic.

I have no idea what I'm doing, so I try to copy Christine's moves. Even though I'm nowhere near as graceful, I soon stop thinking about anything and just shake what my momma wishes she hadn't given me.

The whole world could be watching and making fun of me, but I'm buzzed enough that I couldn't care less. A pop song everyone knows plays next, and Christine and I sing along off-tune. My hair plasters to my sweat-coated skin, and I hope my makeup's not running. But even if it is, I'm not stopping until this song ends.

My new friend and I sing to each other as if we're recording a duet. Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I find Aran leaning against the wall by the kitchen, drinking from a beer bottle as he watches me.

A shiver racks through my whole body.

It's annoying how his eyes alone have the power to incense me.

But he's vanished by the time Christine and I finish dancing.

"Dayum, girl, you got moves." Christine elbows me as we weave through the crowd toward the kitchen. "I caught like five people thirsting over you."

"No way," I say, breathless and unsteady with the dancing and shots.

"Yes way. One of them was a certain Bolts captain. What's up with that?"

I'm glad she asks that while my back is turned to her. I keep pouring a cup of water and pretend the question doesn't shock me.

When I turn around, I say, "Christine, you must be drunk. Have some water, girl."

She smirks and pours herself some too. "I mean, if you wanna tap that, I don't blame you. But you have more choices, is all I'm saying."

I laugh awkwardly. "I don't wanna tap anything tonight."

"I'm sure that's why you let me make you wear this dress tonight." She waves a finger up and down my frame.

Tossing my empty cup into the overflowing trashcan, I rack my brain for an escape to this conversation, and nature presents me with the opportunity. After beer, shots, and water, a girl needs to heed nature's call to the bathroom.

"I need to pee," I declare as if that had been the topic of conversation.

"Actually, me too."

Together, we wrestle through the throngs of people toward the bathroom beyond the corridor. But the line of people is so long, we make a U-turn and head for the stairs.

Meanwhile, I've turned into a freaking fan, just turning this way and that in hopes of finding a certain someone. Where the heck has he gone to hide? And is he alone so I can join him?

What if he's not alone?

I half pay attention to the Strike's chatter while we're in line for the bathroom upstairs. A disheveled couple stumbles out of a bedroom with the look of having been up to no good. Heat travels up my body as the thought pops up unbidden in my mind.

That could've been Aran and me.

Finally, it's our turn for the bathroom, and Christine and I do rock, paper, scissors to decide who goes first. She wins, so I wait outside. I'm glad she's not one of those girls who does her thing in front of her friends. I always found it super uncomfortable, especially because it gave Lori another opportunity to make fun of my fat rolls.

"Well, look what we have here."

I shake my head hard. Am I hallucinating?

Nope. I really did summon her by just thinking about her.

I take a deep breath as heels click closer. Someone yells, "Hey, don't cut the line!" But Lori doesn't care.

She and the others plant themselves next to me. From the back, Rebs waves her fingers at me, and I give her a tight smile. Tiff glances down at my dress in surprise. A fourth girl I don't know checks me out with even more venom.

She asks Lori, "Are you sure this is Aran's new girl?"

I reel back.

"Believe it or not." Lori shrugs and folds her arms delicately. "I've seen them all chummy-chummy more than once."

"That's impossible." The unknown girl sneers at me. "He may be a player, but he doesn't do just any girl."

"Too right, Kelsey," Tiff says.

I don't care for this conversation, so I say, "How about you take all your assumptions somewhere else? Enjoy your night, ladies." And I turn to face the door.

But then a claw grabs my bare shoulder and forces me to turn. Kelsey laughs in my face. "You got some spunk. I'll give you that. But don't think someone like you could possibly keep Aran's interest for long. He's probably boning you out of charity."

"We're not bo—" But too late, I shut my mouth.

"Of course you're not." She squeals a laugh. "How could you be his rebound after dating me ?"

Oh.

So this is Aran's quasi ex, whatever that means. The one who was waiting for him at the library. Who slapped him in the face and has now left marks on my shoulder.

I back away until my back hits the door. Half the people in line are distracted by their own things, but the half paying attention to the drama doesn't contain any friendly faces.

Crap, I should've gone into the bathroom with Christine.

"Listen," I start with an exasperated voice. "I don't owe you any explanations, but I will tell you this out of the kindness of my heart. Aran and I are friends, and even if we were more than that, it's none of your business."

Rebs grabs Tiff's arm, who is closest, and says, "Guys, let's just go, okay?"

"Just friends, my ass." Lori barks a harsh laugh. "Weren't you eating his face at the library like a little pig? Oink, oink, oink."

Tiff bursts into laughter. "Oh, Lori. That's so mean. She doesn't even eat pork. She's a vegetarian."

I'm too stunned by what Lori says to even care about Tiff's weak dig.

"What did you say?"

Lori leans a hand on the wall next to me. "Oh yeah. I saw that. Did he even want to kiss you back? It looked pretty aggressive from your side."

There's murmuring down the line at that.

My heart beats so fast it makes my chest hurt. I hate that she saw that moment. Even more, I hate that she's smearing dirt on it in front of a bunch of strangers. And much more than that, I hate that I'm blinking back tears.

"Screw you. How dare you imply I would—without his consent—that's ridiculous! Of course he wanted to—You know what? It really is none of your damn business."

I try to push Lori out of the way so I can leave, but the same claw from before holds me back.

"But I thought you were friends?" Kelsey asks, tilting her head. With a fake friendly voice, she says, "Friends don't make out at the library. Or anywhere. Right, girls?"

"Right," Tiff and Lori chorus.

"Trust me, I know Aran very well. Intimately," Kelsey says with extra emphasis on the last word. "I'm just giving you a friendly warning that you shouldn't fall in love with him just because he gives you a little attention. He'll move right on the second he realizes you have feelings for him. Because you do, huh? It's written all over your chubby little face."

"She's pathetic," Lori adds. "Falls in love with the first guy who's nice to her. Can you blame her?"

"So what if I'm in love with him? How's that any of your business?" I snap, shaking in my boots but not out of fear. No, out of how hard it is to not drop my figurative gloves and slam my fist in their noses. "What are you trying to accomplish here? To intimidate me? Well, guess what." I pause and push both Kelsey and Lori away from me with so much strength they stumble back. Lori trips on her heels and falls on her ass, and I glare down at her and at Kelsey. "Trying to bully me isn't going to make him like either of you, because you're both horrible people.

"And you," I say to Rebs. "You're turning into one of them, even if all you do is stand by and do nothing as they bully your former friend. I hope you have fun hanging out with people who will stab you in the back the second you try to think on your own again.

"And you," I snarl at Tiff. "Being a vegetarian is not an insult, you damn airhead."

Someone in the line starts clapping, and I wince. For a moment, I forgot there was an audience. And then the absolute worst thing happens.

There, at the top of the stairs, is Aran. And his expression tells me he heard some of that.

"Maddie." It weirds me out that he's not calling me by his nickname for me. The bad feeling in my stomach takes over as he rubs his head and asks, "Are you in love with me?"

I suck in air.

My mind rewinds through the past five minutes and stops right at the moment when, like an absolute fool, I admitted my feelings for Aran Rodriguez in front of a corridor packed with strangers and foes. And apparently him.

I hear laughter. Then someone else joins. A chorus of ooh s echoes across the hallway. The only exit is by Aran. I turn and rush through the open door of the bedroom the couple stumbled out of earlier. But before I close it, a big foot appears between the door and the frame, and Aran pushes his way in.

"No, I?—"

I jump away from him and knock my hip into the corner of some furniture. His hand grabs my arm, preventing me from falling. Or from pulling away again.

I don't dare meet his eyes.

"Maddie…"

"Don't Maddie me." I shake my head, breathing hard. "I'm drunk and angry. I didn't mean what I said."

"So you didn't mean to tell them to screw off to another planet?"

I jerk my arm away from his grip and hug myself tight. "No, that part I meant for sure."

"And you did great. I was just about to send them packing myself, but—" He interrupts himself with a soft little grunt. "But that's not the only part you meant."

I bite my lips hard enough that the pain sobers me. Where are words when I need them the most? Why can't I think of a combination of twenty-six letters that could get me out of this?

Because I meant it. And now everyone knows. Aran knows. Even though I've known all along that this was just a game for him. Reverse tutoring. Book research. Nothing special. One last chance at fun before college ends.

"We agreed no strings attached," he says at last, with a soft voice. The confirmation cuts through me. "I can't do relationships, Maddie. I just can't. Not until—I need to focus on regionals. I wanted to tell you this even before I heard… Please, understand."

I want to rage that this is when he finally learns to say please, when he's breaking up with me even though we were not even together.

I find strength from somewhere to raise my head. "Don't worry. I knew that. I tied the strings myself, and I can cut them too. I have plenty of experience to write a whole book series on that."

Aran's hand lifts toward me, and I flinch away. He squeezes it into a fist and drops it. The impassive mask on his face cracks just a bit. But I don't care to decipher the look. This time I'm the iceberg. I push past him and walk out of the room with my head held high, even though inside, there's nothing left to hold me up.

"Girl, where were you?" Christine asks from the middle of the hallway. "I know it was a very long dump but—what's wrong, Maddie?"

"Can we go home?"

Worry twists her face at whatever she sees in mine, and she nods. "Let's go get the others and blow this joint." And with her arm around me, she steers me away from the witnesses to my biggest humiliation ever.