Page 92 of Striking Range

Everett is driving us back to my apartment, his lips set into a thin line. We barely spoke after he left me on the dance floor, and a few drinks later, he’s dragging my drunk ass home.

“I’m going the speed limit,” he replies blandly.

I’m too fucked up to fight him, or to truly understand where his shitty attitude is coming from. Did I dance with Kelly for too long? Is he still mad that I wouldn’t dance with him?

I’ll ask him once we’re inside, and I’m not on the verge of vomiting.

As we pull up to my complex, Everett helps me out of the car and keeps his arm firmly around my waist as we ascend the stairs and he unlocks the door.

Yessss, my home! Now I can just be Skylar, and not Volley Sky, or Socially Acceptable Sky.

Everett drops me onto the couch and heads into the kitchen, fiddling with the fridge as he very obviously pretends I’m not here.

“What is your problem?” I slur, glaring at him over the kitchen bar.

He gives me an unimpressed look as he turns toward me, heading into the living room with two water bottles. Once one is shoved into my hand, he stands before me, hip cocked.

“My problem?” he repeats. “Are you pretending not to know, or do I have to reevaluate how well you know me?”

“Don’t get sassy with me. I’m assuming you’re mad that I danced with Kelly. Is it because she was my first kiss?”

Everett scoffs. “Hardly.”

A mischievous grin morphs my lips, and I attempt to stand on shaky legs as I say, “Mhm. Sure. I know you’re angry it wasn’t you. That Kelly got to me first.”

I’m poking the bear—I know this—but it’s just so fun! Plus, I refuse to admit that I’m confused about what exactly is bothering him tonight.

“She didn’t ‘get to you first,’” Everett sneers. “I got to you first. I’m the only one who has seen you so vulnerable.”

Well, when he puts it like that…. Yeah. I’m horny.

“So, what is it then?” I ask, shoving the desperate need that’s suddenly burning inside of me to the back of my brain.

“I just… Why are you acting like I’m some dirty secret? Are you embarrassed to be with me?” His expression shifts from irritated to sorrowful, and I try to keep up with the switch.

Because what? Embarrassed? Everett is one of the most sought-after men on campus, and one of the best people I know, so why would I hide him?

He’s not making any sense, and my brain is having a hard time trying to keep up.

“What does that even mean?” I mumble.

“You wouldn’t dance with me. Hell, you wouldn’t even touch me.” He crosses his arms, his glare returning. “What was that about? Was Jacob there?”

“I… I don’t know,” I reply, tumbling further into confusion rather than anger. “Why would he affect what I do? What… What’s happening right now?”

I can see it the moment Everett registers my own displacement. How I’m struggling to keep up with him or understand this situation.

His face softens, his hands reaching out to grip my shoulders. “Alright. Let me ask you one straightforward question: Are you keeping us a secret?”

“Uh…” My eyes dart around the living room, anticipating a trick in his words. “Well, yes.”

Everett’s fingers tighten against my skin, his eyes narrowing. “And why is that?”

“What?” Now I’m very confused. “Because we have to? Because it became clear at the beginning of this that if our relationship got back to your dad, it would mean bad things for you.”

He tilts his head, studying me. “But my dad wasn’t at that party.”

“But your dad is friends with a lot of the families our classmates belong to.”