a dick, man. I know shit with Peyton is messed up, but there’s no reason to drag another girl into it. Especially a girl like Lindsay.”
My eyebrows climb. “Lindsay is a one night stand that keeps coming back. What the hell does she have to do with anything?”
Scotty makes a disgusted noise and turns away. “You called her a whore, man. And then passed out naked in my bed. I’d be careful who you throw stones at when you’re trying to cheat.”
I flinch but he doesn’t see and he wouldn’t care.
Scotty doesn’t like when we treat the girls like they’re disposable. It’s one thing to take a pretty willing thing back home for fun. It’s something else to treat them like trash.
“I asked her because I knew she wouldn’t go through with it. She wouldn’t let you fuck her. So even if you didn’t get your head out of your ass, you wouldn’t destroy the only good thing you’ve got going for you,” Scott says. “You’re welcome.”
I flinch. What the fuck was I doing last night?
No answers to be found in bed and I’m not quite ready to face either of them. So I do what any self-respecting dude would do and I duck into the shower.
When I emerge, I feel vaguely human. My head is still pounding and my stomach twists with the remnants of too much beer the night before. Or whatever we were drinking. I dress silently and then step out of the bedroom and come face-to-face with Scotty and Lindsay.
I manage, barely, to keep from making a face at the sight of her.
"Coffee?" she says, her voice false warmth. I grunt and she moves to pour a cup, shooting Scotty a dark look while she does.
"Someone want to clue me in on what the hell happened last night?" I grit out.
Scotty lets out a slow breath. "You wanted a girl. I don't know what happened between you and the siren, but we started the set and you drank yourself fucking stupid. Lindsay and I got you home and I knew you what you said—but when she tried to touch you, you flipped the fuck out. Almost hit her."
His tone is dark and furious and I understand it. I've never touched a woman. Not in violence. That I was that shitty… "I'm sorry," I whisper. There's a breath of silence, and I stare at the dark coffee swirling in my mug. I don't want to see the disappointment in Scott's eyes and I'm not ready to look at Lindsay, not yet. "I don't know what else to say. Just that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. It's won't happen again."
"Do you even understand why it happened this time?" Lindsay asks, and her voice is tinged with annoyance.
"Because you aren't Peyton."
"You fucking knew that, Rike. You weren't under any illusions about who you were going home with."
I wasn't but I don't like what that says about me. "Why the fuck were you about to cheat on her?" she asks. “Even if I wouldn’t have let it happen—what the fuck were you thinking?”
"It's not your business," I say, my gaze finally lifting to find hers.
"Bullshit. If you want that, you should probably avoid bringing me home. But here I am, and I got to deal with your shitty temper, so why don't you do us both the favor of being honest?"
"I was pissed. I don't know. It was a shit move and I won't repeat it."
She sits in silence for a moment, and I want to shove away from the table and bolt. Her gaze is too sharp and too assessing, and she doesn't like what she sees.
I don't blame her. I don't like me very much at the moment either.
"She cares about you, Rike. I know you're probably wondering, because I know Peyton. She likes her privacy and she fucking adores her secrets. But she likes you and she's let you get close to her. She doesn't do that for anyone. Don't fuck that up. And don't use me to hurt her. I'm not down with that bullshit."
My gaze cools and it skates over her, just as judgmental as hers on me had been. "Then what the fuck are you doing here?"
She shrugs. "I'm here for Scott, asshole. It has nothing to do with you."
I jerk, throwing a startled look at Scotty. He’s ignoring me, sipping his coffee with a careful eye watching Lindsay.
What the hell is happening here, and how did I miss it?
“If you got