Hate the Game - Winter Renshaw Page 0,15
after a devastating Tiger loss and the guy was talking shit to Talon about some fumbled catch. “And I’ve seen you in action, so don’t chalk it up to rumors.”
“I’m only a dick when I have to be.”
“No one has to be a dick.”
“Maybe in your world.” He glances into the yard, which is long and deep and turns into a pitch-black void halfway back.
“Please.” I roll my eyes. If the man only knew what my world was like and how many times I’d have loved to be a dick to people …
A guy and girl emerge from behind a tree in the dark distance. He zips his fly. She wipes her mouth on the side of her hand. They stumble off, disappearing around the side of the house hand in hand.
Ah, young love …
I heard a girl talking once a few years back. She claimed she blew Talon at a party and as soon as he got his, he pushed her off him and refused to so much acknowledge her the rest of the night.
Maybe he felt the need to shoulder check the asshole talking shit about him after a bad game, but there’s no excuse for being cruel to a girl whose only crime was worshipping his cock.
The door behind us swings open and slams shut, and the weight of heavy footsteps reverberates across the worn decking.
“Talon, there you are, man,” a guy’s voice says.
I don’t turn around, I stare into the dark void ahead.
“Been looking all over for you,” he adds. “You wanna come in? The A-Chi-O girls are here and we’re about to do some body shots. Got a sexy redhead in there with your name on her. Don’t keep her waiting.”
Talon is hesitant at first, but he remains planted beside me. “Nah, man. I’m taking it easy tonight.”
I give him a slow side glance.
“What? No way. You sure?” his buddy asks.
Talon waves him away. “Yep, I’m good. I’ll catch you in a bit though.”
His friend leaves and once again it’s just the two of us.
“I hope you didn’t do that for my sake,” I tell him.
“You really think I’d rather be in there sucking Patron from some freshman’s belly button than sitting out here with you? Under the stars?”
“Duh.”
He brushes his shoulder against mine. “You’re out of your mind, Irie Davenport.”
No one ever calls me by my full name and in general, I find it a bit strange, but for some reason, coming from his lips with his crushed velvet voice vibrating in my ear, it sends my stomach into a somersault.
Silence settles between us, but in my defense, I don’t know how to transition from that. He’s pouring on the charm, trying so damn hard to get in my good graces, and I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t enjoy it—at least a little bit.
Half of me wants to send him inside to the waiting human shot glass sorority chick.
The other half of me wants to linger in this moment, under the stars, beside the warmth that radiates off his body and onto mine.
“You know this house used to belong to the mayor,” he says. “Like back in the nineteen twenties when this town was founded. It served as city hall for a while, when the first one burned down. And during the Vietnam War, it was a sort of halfway house for returning soldiers. In the eighties, I heard it was a brothel or something.”
I shoot him a look. “Random.”
“Thought you were into houses and all that,” he says. “With your interior design major.”
He isn’t wrong.
“How did you know all of that?” I ask. “About the history of the house? Did you Google it when I wasn’t looking?”
“My stepdad owns the place,” he says. “He bought it back in the nineties when it was at auction. Fixed it up enough to turn it into a place he could rent to college kids. My mom wanted to do a full restore, make it look just like it did when it was first built. She’s kind of an interior design junkie herself. But Mark wouldn’t have it. He wanted to make a quick buck because that’s what he does.”
“Your family owns this house?”
“My stepdad does. Yeah.”
“Why don’t you live here?” I ask.
“You saw the current state of the inside, right? Would you live here?”
“No.”
“I rest my case,” he says.
“Doesn’t your stepdad care that this beautiful house is being completely destroyed?”
“As long as it’s padding his bank account, he couldn’t give a shit