âWhat, fucker?â I ask him, chugging the water.
âNothing, man.â He laughs and shares a shitty look with Logan.
âAm I missing something here?â My hand waves between the two of them.
âNope.â Logan puts his hand on my shoulder, and I move away. âWhy are you looking for her, exactly?â
âWhy do you think?â I say quickly, unsure whether Iâm lying to them or snapping back into the Bet. Yes, Iâm still into the game, but at this moment, I just want to know where the fuck she went.
âRight.â Nate nudges Logan like me and my mates used to nudge each other when we were in grade school. âWell, sheâs gone, anyway. I saw her walk out the front door.â
âAnd you just let her?â
âLet her? Why would I care if she walked outside and left? You shouldnât care either . . . I thought,â Nate says, his eyes meeting Loganâs.
âWhereâs Zed?â I ask them. Hopefully the question will make them think Iâm more worried about him getting a leg up on me than anything else.
They both shake their heads and shrug their shoulders, then go back to shooting the shit together like theyâve already lost interest in all of this.
As I walk away from them, my hands ball into fists. Maybe she called a friend to pick her up? Does the girl even have any friends? She seems like the judgmental type that no one would actually want to be friends with. Like me, in that way. Except sheâs slightly more likable. Slightly.
Iâm sure she isnât stupid enough to try to walk three miles back to her dorm.
Stupid enough? No.
Stubborn enough? Hell fucking yes she is.
I walk through the halls upstairs one more time to be sure she actually left the house. My room is empty; I was hoping she would be annoying and break into my room again. I was kind of hoping I would catch her sitting on my bed with one of my books in her hands.
But no, of course she had to be ridiculously difficult and leave the house. Alone.
Alone.
Fucking hell, sheâs walking the damn streets alone.
What kind of . . . Goddamnit, she pisses me off. Could we have chosen a more difficult girl for the Bet? Not bloody likely.
âNate!â I shout his name over the music as I rush down the stairs.
âWhat? You in a hurry?â he says to me, a slow smirk rising to his face. I slow down as I reach the bottom.
âNah, I just . . .â I push my hair back from my forehead. âIâm looking for that brunetteâthe one wearing a black tank top, huge tits.â I hold my hands out in front of my chest to mimic having this made-up womanâs body.
Nateâs eyes lower and he smiles. I can barely see the words inked into the inside of his bottom lip when he says, âOh, I get it.â
He winks and Logan laughs.
âWell, Iâm going to go find her . . .â I turn away from them quickly. I can hear their faint shit talking as I walk away. I leave the house without looking back and get into my car. The streets are empty. Completely fucking empty, and sheâs nowhere to be found.
After a few more circles around the block, I decide to just head to her dorm. She has to be there by now. Has to be.
When I get to the dorm, I realize Iâve been out for about two hours already. At her room, the door opens without any hesitation and I find Steph and Tristan lying on her bed. Her shirt is off, her hands roaming his shirtless body. She removes her mouth from his and sits up.
âCan I help you?â Steph licks her lips, smearing the last bit of lipstick down across her mouth.
âWhereâs Theresa?â I ask them. Tristan reaches for his shirt, and Steph grabs it from him, tossing it onto the floor. âWell?â I push.
âNot here. We passed her on the way.â Steph latches her mouth on to Tristanâs neck, and I gag.
âPassed her? You saw her walking and you didnât pick her up?â I bend down and grab Tristanâs shirt, tossing it to him, covering both of their faces with it. Tristan moves from the bed, and I back away toward the door.
âSteph told me not to stop,â he says while getting dressed.
âWhat the fuck?â I turn to her.
She chuckles. âSheâs fine. She could use some walking.â
âHey.â Tristan nudges her, a disapproving look clear on his face.
Steph rolls her eyes.
âGet dressed, both of you, and leave. She should be here soon,â I say to them.
âThis is my room. Iâm not leaving,â Steph says.
âCome on.â I scramble for a reason for her to leave. âI need some alone time with her.â
She laughs. âFor what? To fuck her?â
âTo work toward that, yes.â
âLetâs just go to my place. Nate probably wonât be there,â Tristan says, and tucks Stephâs hair behind her ear. She smiles, nodding in agreement.
Once the room is empty, I sit down on Tessaâs bed. As Iâm trying to decide whether or not to look through her stuff out of curiosity, the door opens. There she stands in the doorway, looking a few inches taller, her hands in tight fists. Her eyes are wide; sheâs bursting at the seams with carefully held-back irritation. When I smile at her, she tears up.
âYouâve got to be kidding me!â Her voice is high and loud as she throws her hands into the air.
âWhere were you?â I calmly ask her, my tone the opposite of the fire quickly growing inside of her. âI drove around trying to find you for almost two hours.â
âWhat? Why?â she asks me, her expression a mixture of exasperation and confusion. Her cheeks are pink from the cool fall air, and her hair is windblown, not the neatly curled mop Iâm used to seeing on her.
I struggle to say something to explain it all, but only come up with âI donât think itâs a good idea for you to be walking around at night, alone.â
She bursts into laughter. Laughter, of all things. What is wrong with her? Her laugh is wild, completely opposite to her controlled smiles and faked laughs. She looks half mad.
âGet out, Hardinâjust get out!â she says as her laughter grows softer.
âTheresa, Iâmââ
But a pounding at the door interrupts me.
âTheresa! Theresa Young, you open this door!â a womanâs voice shrieks through the air.
âOh my God, Hardin, get in the closet,â Tessa whispers, grabbing my arm and yanking me from the bed.