It falls perfectly into the cup, and Stella throws her arms around my neck at the same time as our audience goes crazy.

My eyes pass briefly over Torres, and I could swear he’s smiling, but I don’t let myself look back to check.

“Keg stand, and then leave,” I tell Stella.

She nods, and while she tells the crowd that we’re done for the night, I start making my way to the door. Stella’s small hand grips my elbow a moment later. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yep. I just want to do this and get out of here.”

“The keg’s usually in the backyard. Come on.”

I resist the urge to look back over my shoulder. I’m hoping Torres won’t follow. Stella told everyone we were done for the night, so maybe he’ll leave me alone if he thinks I’m leaving. Even so, I walk a little faster. There were a lot of people in that room, and even if he does follow me, I have every intention of being outside and out of sight before he can catch up to me.

Chapter 28

Mateo

Fuck . . .” She’s long gone when I finally push my way out of my room. I spin, scanning the party for her dark hair, her curvy form. “Fuck.”

It had been such a shock to walk into my room and see her there. She’d looked vibrant and confident and unbelievably sexy. And everybody was watching her, and that asshole friend of Ryan’s with the beanie hugged her, and it took all my self-control not to suffocate him with that beanie.

I hadn’t had any intention of partying tonight. I was coming into my room to drop off my bag, and then I was going to go to Nell’s apartment. And by some miracle that I still didn’t understand, she was already here.

What did that mean?

She certainly wasn’t here at the house to see me. The way she’d tensed up when I volunteered to play told me that. But why would she come here if she didn’t want to see me? Was it to rub my face in the fact that she’s just fine, and I can’t walk or talk or do fucking anything without thinking of her? Because she sure as hell looked like she was doing just fine without me.

I knew she’d gained a lot of confidence and was more comfortable in her skin than when we first met, but I still never would have expected to find her completely at ease playing beer pong at a party like this.

God, I’d spent the whole damn football game thinking about her, aching to go after her. I thought about her as the team’s trainer examined me on the sidelines and went through all our concussion protocols. I’d thought of her when Coach said he’d rather not chance sending me back into the game. She’d been the only thing that kept me sane on the sidelines as we traded points with the opposing team. Our defense had an off game, and our opponent’s wasn’t particularly strong to begin with, so it ended up becoming about who could score the most points.

And in a game like that, you’re never safe. Even when you’re ahead, things can turn around so fast. I paced and paced and paced, and I thought of her. I planned out what I was going to say to her. During halftime, I grabbed a spiral from my bag and wrote it down. Then time ran out, and we won, and all I could think about was talking to her. But Coach wanted to talk after the game, check in on how I was doing, and give me the nonabbreviated version of the lecture he gave me on the field. And all that fucking time that I’d been sitting in his office, she was here in my house. She’s still here somewhere . . . unless she’s already left.

I hear cheering and clapping in the backyard, and follow the pull in my gut to the door. When I walk out onto the back porch, I catch sight of her immediately, hands balanced on top of the keg, and her perfect fucking legs straight up in the air. Stella stands beside her, but she isn’t tall enough to keep a hold on her, so some other dude I don’t recognize has his hands around her ankles, holding her up.

I see red.

It’s bad enough that she’s in my house, and all these other people are here, so I can’t just grab her and devour that damn pouty mouth of hers. But no one else touches her. No one. Jesus, I’d take a concussion over this any day.

I fly down the stairs at the same time as she stops drinking and the guy starts lowering her feet toward the ground. She’s laughing, and her long hair is wild and twisted over her face. She pulls it away so she can see, and while she does it, Keg-Stand Guy keeps a hand on her lower back like he needs to steady her.

I march over to them and grip both her shoulders to spin her away from him.

“What the fuck, man?” he calls at my back.

But now I’ve got my hands on her. A few locks of hair are caught between my fingers and her shoulders, and I just want to bury my fingers in those thick tresses.

“What are you doing?” Nell asks.

She’s breathing heavy, probably from being upside down and chugging beer, which she doesn’t even like. Damn it, everything about this night is pissing me off.

“That’s two more firsts tonight,” I growl.

She tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip.

“Stella and I were just about to leave. We are leaving. Now.”

“Oh no. Not yet, girl genius. You and I need to talk.”

Maybe she’s all good. Maybe I’ll be making a complete fool of myself in a matter of moments, but I’ve got to do it. I force myself to let go of her shoulders and reach down to take her hand.

“Come with me.”

“But—I—”

“Nell? You okay?” Stella asks from nearby.

“I just want to talk. Then you can come back out here to Stella. You can do whatever you want.”

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and I fight off a groan. “It’s okay, Stella.”

Everyone outside is watching us. I can’t just take Nell over to a quiet spot in the yard, not like this. So I squeeze her hand and lead her up the stairs and back inside. We pass through the living room, where the music is thumping to a fast beat, and I lead her back toward my room. There’s not as many people inside as there were when we were playing beer pong, but it’s not empty, which is what I want.

“Everybody out! I need the room.”

“Come on, man.” It’s Keyon, a true freshman running back, and he’s holding a Ping-Pong ball, ready to throw. “You said we could play.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But now you can’t, so get out.”

I know my voice is stern, and I probably seem like the biggest asshole around, but I don’t care. The people grumble as they leave, and Nell pulls her hand out of mine to retreat to the far side of the room. The longer it takes for people to leave, the more pressure builds in my head that has nothing to do with my recent injury. Two girls on my bed are the last to leave, and they linger at the door, looking at me.