Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,33

remember my name.

Laken nuzzles against me, blowing kisses in my ear all the way up the steps to Henderson. Her hair holds the scent of vanilla and flowers, a country meadow blinks through my mind like some long forgotten dream that I struggle to remember.

It’s warm inside, toasty and well heated from the fire. The downstairs lights are dimmed just enough to give it a romantic feel—a code that lets me know one of my dorm brothers is about to get laid.

“I’m freezing.” Laken takes off toward the fireplace before I can stop her.

A tangle of bodies writhe over one another, then leap apart as Laken lets out a high-pitched scream.

Fletch and some chick with a rack the size of grapefruits scramble to cover themselves. It’s only when she looks up do I see it’s Carter.

“Shit, Laken.” Fletch tosses his shirt at her as he holds a pillow over his manhood. I know what I’ll be tossing in the fire later. “Can you scream any louder? I think I still have some hearing in my right ear.”

“Oh stop, Fletch.” Carter buttons up her blouse. “She probably saw that log between your legs, and nobody wants to see their brother’s junk. Isn’t that right?”

“Excuse me.” Laken groans before bolting for the kitchen. “I’ll be washing my eyes out with soap.”

Soap. Maybe as a courtesy she could gargle with it, too. Just knowing Flanders defiled her makes me want to vomit. Speaking of Flanders, didn’t she say she was with Carter before he dove into her mouth?

“How long have you two been here?” I ask, curious as hell as to when their private party began.

“Since the game ended in tragedy.” Carter slides into Fletch and pulls a blanket over the two of them.

“I’m adding the blanket to the burn list,” I say under my breath.

Fletch beams me in the face with the pillow he just employed as a penis protector.

I toss it back in the event he discovers a creative need for it before heading off to find Laken.

Fletch has more than his fair share of balls to sleep with Carter, front and center, in the common room—either that or he’s dumb as a post. If he gets caught, they could both get tossed out on their bare-naked asses.

The clanging of pots and pans fills my ears as I take in the scene from the kitchen.

Flynn has his hands up like there’s a hostage situation underway while Laken turns two long-handled pots into a pair of annoying gongs.

“What the heck?” I shout, speeding over. It’s only then I notice Hattie cowering in the corner, looking scared as all hell with her arms up over her head. “Whoa!” I disarm Laken before she commits a culinary-based felony. “What’s going on?”

Flynn jumps up, pumped with adrenaline. “I was making out with this chick, and your psycho girlfriend storms in and starts banging pots and pans in our ears like its fucking New Year’s Eve. You’d better call Flanders and tell him to set up a permanent bed at the palace for the mentally unstable.”

Coop’s grandfather started up the psych hospital, and ironically I’d like nothing more than for his grandson to take up residency there.

Laken snatches a dirty steak knife from the counter before I can defend her mental stability and darts over to Hattie like she’s about to decapitate her.

“Laken!” I dive over the island and knock her down in a play that could rival any move made on that field tonight. She struggles free, sending the blade sliding up my cheek.

“Shit!” She drops the knife and covers her mouth in horror. “Oh my God, Wes, I’m so sorry.”

“We’re out of here,” Flynn says, moving Hattie toward the door. “Lay off the booze, girl.” He shouts to Laken. “You’re one mean drunk.”

“Wait, Flynn, she’s…” Laken folds into me helpless as they walk out of sight. “She’s not human.”

I touch my cheek and examine the pink stain on my fingers.

“You’re cut.” Her voice quivers as she lays her hand over mine.

“It’s just a graze. I’ll do more damage with a razor in the morning.” I get up and help her to her feet. “What did you mean she’s not human?” God knows we have enough of that floating around in our world for me to consider it an option.

“She’s”—Laken shakes her head as if searching for answers—“a real bitch. I saw her hanging all over some guy back at Henderson. Her tongue was in his ear, and it was just sick. I don’t like

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