Hate the Game - Winter Renshaw Page 0,18

Light on their shoulders.

I get the hell out of there and head to the front room—a gargantuan space that once served as the mayor’s formal receiving room, complete with a hand-carved fireplace surround and wooden marble mantel. My mother refused to let my stepfather tear out anything original to the house. I think she still dreams of fixing it up someday, but the Westcott house is situated along Tiger Way … nestled between frat houses, sorority McMansions, and college bus stops. No one under the age of twenty-three is ever going to want anything to do with this house.

I find an empty section on a sunken plaid sofa by the window and take a seat. It takes all of three seconds for people to flock toward me. Some make it obvious. Some not so much.

“Hi.” A pretty brunette with lips the color of ox blood perches on the arm beside me. “You’re Talon, right?”

I recognize her now.

A cheerleader.

In high school, I chased every little short-skirted ponytail who so much as glanced in my direction. In college, the cheerleaders were notorious for fucking their way through the entire team, first string to second, running back to lineman.

“Bro, there you are.” Vin ambles toward us, his thick mitts filled with tequila in mismatched shot glasses. A curly-haired blonde is behind him, a bowl of lime wedges and salt shaker in hand.

They clear a small section of coffee table in front of me and start handing out liquor and limes.

“Saved the biggest one for you, man.” Vin hands me the tallest shot glass.

I force a smile before accepting it. The girl hands me a lime and then reaches for my arm, turning my wrist before bending to give it a lick, slow and seductive.

I jerk it away before her tongue contacts my flesh. “Nah, I’m good.”

She recoils, her smile fading like I’ve burst some fantasy bubble of hers, and I toss the tequila back in one go, no chaser, letting myself feel the burn as it glides down my throat.

A group of girls walk past the room, making their way to the stairs. I glance up, searching for Irie. But of course she’s not amongst them, and I should have known.

She’s never been a pack animal.

“Talon, mind if I get a pic?” A girl with tits up to her chin squeezes behind the sofa, her phone camera readied as she positions herself behind me. “Smile!”

I do my thing as she snaps not one, not two, but five fucking pictures, and then she skips away like a giddy kid who just met Mickey Mouse at Disneyland.

My body sinks into the worn sofa, deeper, harder, heavier, as the alcohol hits my blood. I’m warm and numb and completely convinced I can suffer through the rest of his evening … until I spot a guy and a sandy-haired girl on the other side of the room essentially fucking with their clothes on in a leather wingback chair.

For five solid seconds, I see Irie. I see a horny bastard with his hands on her ass. I see a jackass tasting the lips that should only belong to me. And I see her curved hips grinding against a dude that will never be able to satisfy her the way I could.

Then I see black.

With my jaw clenched, I rise from my spot and storm across the room.

They’re oblivious to me …

… until I grab his arm and all but yank him out of the chair.

“The fuck is your problem, man?” he asks, wild-eyed.

Irie scrambles off his lap—and it’s then that I realize it isn’t Irie.

It isn’t Irie at all.

Just some girl with the same hair.

She covers her swollen lips with her hand and cowers in the corner as her boyfriend gives me a non-verbal what-for. His hands are lifted and he’s giving me his best attempt at a dirty look, but his eyes are the color of terror.

“Get a fucking room,” I say before storming off.

I’m losing it.

I’ve got to get out of here.

“Dude, what was that about?” Vin asks, chuckling. “You okay, man?”

No. I’m not okay.

“Yeah. Just going to grab some air for a sec.” I point to the front door. If they’re lucky, I’ll come back. I have half a mind to call it an early night before I make a jackass out of myself again—not that I honestly give a fuck what people think about me at the end of the day. But those two were having themselves a time and the last thing they