Page 13 of Striking Range

As the game continues on, dares and truths being passed on from person to person, I watch him. As if I’m waiting to uncover some kind of secret reaction no one else will notice, I watch him. I’m searching for any telltale sign that he hated it or maybe liked it too much.

Eventually, he feels my stare, his hooded eyes finding mine as he asks, “What?”

“Was that your first kiss?” As soon as I ask, I realize I do not want to know the answer. I would simply rather lie to myself.

But Skylar blushes once more, slowly nodding his head. Oh.

I turn away from him, focusing back on the game. Though, unfortunately, my mood is souring by the second, and worse than the cause is the fact that it’s weighing on me so heavily when it shouldn’t matter.

I wish he had dated back in high school, or really at any point before now. Then, maybe these little moments wouldn’t feel so heavy. But they do, and for some reason, I feel robbed.

“New game!” Dante shouts. “Seven minutes in heaven. You have a coat closet, right, Sky?”

“Nope, but the bathroom is fine,” Skylar responds absentmindedly.

A girl I do not know giggles. “I say Kelly and Sky should go first.”

I speak before I can think better of the implications or the consequences. “No.”

Everyone turns to stare at me, but I say nothing else. I have nothing else to offer, to defend myself with.

“No?” Skylar questions. “Why not?”

A fuck, he sounds mad now—maybe a bit defensive too.

“Just… no.”

He’s glaring at me; I can feel it, but I refuse to look back. I refuse to look at anybody.

“Then you go, Ev,” Kelly challenges, crossing her arms with a smirk. “If you’re going to be so territorial, step up.”

It’s a dare in and of itself. A vicious, dangerous bet. Potentially even a test. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me again.

The part of me that is panicking, screaming about what people will assume or what this makes me, is begging to throw up. Yet the part of me that knows it’ll be someone else in that bathroom, touching and experiencing, has me up on my feet, glaring as I pull Skylar up with me.

I drag him to the bathroom with a quickness, desperate to escape the prying eyes of our peers as I slam the door to the soundtrack of their laughter playing on a loop in the background.

“What the fuck, Everett?” Skylar demands. “What’s your problem tonight?”

He shoves my shoulders roughly before retreating partially into the bathroom to lean against the sink.

“Nothing.” My voice is harsh, on edge, full of fear and pent-up energy.

“You’re making this birthday very stressful, you know.”

Sighing in an attempt to release some of the tension I’m holding, I run a hand through my hair before saying, “I’m sorry.”

But I’m not. Not really.

I can’t even begin to imagine what he’d be doing in here with someone else. I can’t stand to think of what it’d be doing to me at this very moment, having to grin and bear it. The thought of someone’s hands on—

This whole situation is fucked. I didn’t plan for tonight to go this way, and I’m far too intoxicated to be thinking these thoughts, to be dealing with this.

“Are you? Because if anything, you look relieved,” he counters.

I finally meet his gaze, those blue eyes cold and striking—cutting into me and tearing me apart. He does it so easily; so carelessly does he rip into me.

“So what if I am?” I spit out. “Is this not how you wanted things to go? Am I ruining your first hookup for you?”