GRAYSON

I almost didn't catch that it was her who flew out of Julian's front door. All I saw was long dark hair whipping over the shoulder of a girl wearing the tightest goddamn skirt I'd ever seen.

But then I heard her voice as she swore at herself, and I'd recognize that anywhere. Even if she did sound a little slurred.

Poor girl. That hair of hers kept sliding over her shoulder as she buckled into the bushes, and I didn't even think before crossing the yard to pull it back, holding her long strands out of her face.

"What the—"

She tensed and started to look over her shoulder at my touch, but another wave of vomit had her craning back into the bushes.

"Relax, Adler. It's just me," I said softly, trying not to spook her into throwing up even more.

And I'd be damned if she didn't noticeably relax.

When she finally got everything out of her system, Nessa kept her head bent as she wiped at her mouth a few times. There was a faint groan.

"You good?" I asked.

She mumbled something about shots and tequila and Beau before dropping into a crouch on the ground. It wasn't really an answer, and worry ebbed at me.

"Didn't really picture you being into shots," I muttered, more to myself than to her. "And tequila? You're a whiskey girl."

My whiskey girl.

"Well, I had a shitty week," she complained, talking to the ground. "And Madie's has been even worse." Nessa sighed and swayed slightly, so I put a hand out on her shoulder to steady her. She kept talking. "Thought we'd go out, ya know? Get her mind off things."

I nodded even though she couldn't see me. I hated hearing that the girls had shitty weeks. Especially because I could guess some reasons why.

Nessa suddenly snapped her head up to glare at me.

"Hey, I'm mad at you," she accused like she'd just remembered.

Standing on wobbly legs, she jabbed a finger into my chest before stumbling into me. I caught her by the waist and realized that the scrap of fabric in my hands hardly substituted as a shirt. Jesus Christ. I shifted my eyes away from her strappy top and found her glassy gaze. "I know you're mad."

Her face scrunched up. "Is that all you have to say?"

I shook my head. "No, but now is probably not the best time to make my case."

Nessa scoffed. "Your case for what?"

I sighed. There was no way she was going to remember this conversation tomorrow. But I answered her anyway.

"For how what I said that night at your house did not give justice to how I feel about you, Nessa."

She squinted at me like she had no idea what I was talking about. And then she gave me a little shove—which resulted in me not moving and her tipping backward dangerously before I caught her again. "That's not what I'm talking about," she said.

When I only frowned, she threw a hand in the air drunkenly.

"I'm mad because your asshole teammate said that shit to Madie, and what did you do? Nothing. He was over there making jokes about how Quinton raped her, and you said nothing."

She hissed the last word in an accusation that hit me square in the chest, leaving a dull ache.

"I—"Fuck. I raked my hand through my hair as I tried to figure out what to say. "I know, and I'm sorry. I was shocked, Nessa. But I let him have it when we got back to our room."

"Your room?" she repeated flatly. "That jerk-off is your roommate? Oh hell no, Grayson."

She spun away from me, so abrupt that I wasn't able to catch her before she stormed back into Julian's house, teetering and slipping through the throngs of people hanging in the front entry. But I followed, managing to grab onto her wrist before she made it completely out of sight.

Nessa twirled around, flashing me a cold glare.

"Just wait, Adler," I said, reeling her back into me. She was drunk as fuck, and I had no idea where she planned on taking off to. She'd mentioned something about Beau, but I didn't see him anywhere.

Nessa didn't resist, but she made a pouty face that I'd laugh at in any other circumstances. Opening my mouth, I was about to ask her where Beau was at when some guy with a bushy-ass beard appeared over her shoulder, cutting me off.

"This guy bothering you, sweetheart?"

Oh, fuck off. That's my move.

I glared down at him, rolling my eyes at his Star Wars t-shirt, which read 'may the force be in you' and featured a winking Kylo Ren.

Luckily, Nessa recoiled, making a face that definitely should have told him to back off. But he took a step closer anyway, causing me to clench my jaw. And when Nessa didn't reply, I had to bite my tongue from answering for her.

"You look like maybe you need to lie down, huh?" Kylo Ren tried again. "Wanna head upstairs?"

I snaked my arm around Nessa's waist at that, drawing her close. And then I glared at him.

"Get the fuck out of here."

He rolled his eyes. "This isn't your house, man."

I wondered how much shit Jules would give me if I started a fight in his living room.

"No," I snapped, "but I'm pretty sure I know what Julian's going to say when I tell him you're trying to convince drunk girls to go upstairs with you."

The dirty Star Wars man assessed me with a full-body look-over. He clucked his tongue.

"Friends with the captain of the football team, huh?"

The way he said it made me think that he didn't believe me. So I leaned in over Nessa's shoulder with a sneer.

"The best."

There was a long pause while Kylo fucking Ren tried to decide what to do with me. Honestly, I hoped he'd take a swing because I could really use someone to take this week out on. But in the end, all he did was sigh.

"Chill out, man. I wasn't going to do anything."

I shook my head. "I don't care. Get out."

He hesitated again, but whether from my glare or because he decided it wasn't worth his time, he gave in. He brushed past me, walking toward the door. I relaxed, loosening my grip on Nessa a bit.

She'd been surprisingly quiet, and when I glanced down at her, I found her dazed and tired, slouching against my chest as she hummed something. I felt the vibrations of it, but it wasn't until I dipped my head that I recognized it as The Imperial March.

"For the record," I murmured, "I think that Hans Zimmer is the superior movie composer over John Williams."

She jerked her head up at that. "Are you kidding me, Grayson?"

"No. I mean, come on. Pirates of the Caribbean? The Dark Knight? Sherlock Holmes, Adler. "

"Okay, but against Harry Potter and Star Wars, Grayson?" Nessa made a face. "They really let you be a music major with those opinions, Grayson? You can't go around teaching kids that bullshit, Grayson."

Drunk-Nessa might be my favorite just for the fact that she kept repeating my name after everything she said. Goddamn, I wanted her. This Star Wars-singing girl. Sometimes when I was with her it felt like I was marching toward the edge of a cliff. One that I knew I'd never come back from after I fell off.

I shook my head as a laugh whipped out of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Kylo Ren slip out of the house and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Christ, Adler. I think I'm gonna have to go to every party with you just to tell guys who wanna get in your pants to fuck off."

I was still holding her, and she hadn't tried to move away. In fact, Nessa had leaned into me again, resting her head beneath mine. But then she peeked up at me adorably, and I could almost imagine that this was natural. Me, holding Nessa in my arms. Her, gazing at me sleepily. But then she opened her mouth and popped my blissful bubble.

"Aren't you one of those guys, too?"

I swore I could punch something. Instead, I switched topics.

"Is Beau here? Madie? Where are your friends?"

"I don't know," she said before snuggling her head into my chest. Hot and cold, this one. But I wasn't complaining.

Looking down at her, I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and used the loud music as an excuse to lean closer to her. "You don't know if they're here, or you don't know where they are?"

"They're here," she mumbled. "They better still be here."

I scanned the room, trying to look for Beau's jet-black hair or Madie's blonde head. And when I found them, I wasn't happy to see who was standing next to them.

Fucking Brodie. Shit, he better not be saying something else to that poor girl.

Regretfully, I pointed them out to Nessa across the crowd, and the sight of Brodie woke her right up. She took off, weaving her way through the living room, with its mosh pit of drunk college kids and ripped couches that looked like they belonged on the set of That 70s Show.

I caught up with her just as she stumbled in next to Madie, assuring her she was fine.

"No, she's not," I argued, sliding in beside her. I rested my hand against the wall behind Nessa, just in case she tipped over again.

Nessa threw me a scowl. "I'm fine, Grayson."

Rolling my eyes, I repressed a smile as I leaned closer to her. "I just held your hair as you threw up in the bushes. You should go home."

Nessa mumbled something in protest, but she was quickly shut up by Beau, who shoved water into her hands and ordered her to drink. She did without another word.

I wanted Beau Martin's superpowers. Maybe he had the force.

With a shake of my head, I turned to Brodie instead. I'd almost forgotten he was here. His blue eyes were icy but conflicted as he looked back at me.

"What's going on here?" I asked with a narrowed gaze.

Brodie stiffened at my tone. "Fuck off, Gray."

And then he stormed away.

Seriously, what the hell?

"Okay," Beau cut in, clapping his hands together. "We need to leave, I think. This was a colossal fail."

His eyes cut to Nessa and then Madie, who I realized looked just as blasted as her roommate. It was the first time seeing her up close, and I was startled by how blue her drunken eyes were. Her face was flushed, and I swore it gave her hair a reddish tint. Or maybe it was always like that.

She was girl-next-door pretty, whereas Nessa had an eclectic kind of beauty.

Both girls agreed with Beau—again, I wanted to be this guy, to harness the powers he had. For good, of course. Light side and all that.

I watched them walk off through the party, and Nessa spared me one last glance before Beau put his hand on her back, urging her through the door. And then she was gone.

"How's your girl?"

I knew instantly it was Julian. He was the only one who knew about my infatuation with Nessa, and he was also the only one I knew whose east coast accent slipped through when he was drunk. I turned to find him leaning against the arm of the couch.

What I didn't expect to see was the entire starting line-up hovering around him with smirks on their faces.

"Still not my girl," I said before plopping down on the couch. "Still fucking wish she was."

Apparently, it was time for an interrogation.

💗

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to drop a vote or a comment if you're enjoying! Appreciate it lots.

xoxo amelie