“Oh. No. I’ve never had one.” She glances over at me when we pull up to a light.
“Why? Your Grams seems cool. She doesn't let you date?”
“I think she would. I’ve only lived with my grandparents for six months.”
“I wanted to ask about that, but I didn’t want to upset you if it’s still fresh.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it.” That’s the truth. I’m trying to put that in the past and move forward. Talking about it only breathes life into it.
“That’s cool. No pressure.” She turns at the next light into a fancy neighborhood. Grams’ house is really nice, but these homes are massive. Tricia pulls up behind a row of cars and parks. We both get out.
“You want to leave your cardigan in the car?” she asks as she pulls her own jacket off, tossing it into the back seat.
“No. I’m good.” She shrugs, locking her car before we make our way toward that house that music is spilling out of. As we pass a few people, Tricia says hi to each of them. I swear she knows everybody.
“Tricia!” someone shouts from the front porch. A shirtless man stands there with two drinks in his hand raised over his head.
“Put some clothes on, Hayes.” She shakes her head at him.
“But I got you a drink?” He actually pouts. Tricia ignores him.
“I know I give the baseball boys a hard time, but the football boys are worse. Steer clear of them.” I wish I had a little notepad to take all of this down. But that would be weird and make me stand out, and I already manage to do that on my own.
“How will I know if they play football?” She motions to Hayes, who still has the drinks lifted up in the air. He turns around suddenly, splashing liquid everywhere before losing his grip on them. I watch as they fall to the ground and soak him in the process.
“See? You'll know.” I put my hand over my mouth and laugh.
“Fuck, Hayes! These shoes are new!” A pretty redhead in a tight black dress hisses at him. I’m really starting to think I wore the wrong kind of dress.
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I’ll make it up to you.” He grabs her, and she lets him. He tosses her over his shoulder before heading back into the house, leaving me a bit confused. I thought he was hitting on Tricia but now he wandered off with another girl.
“If you see them fucking later, just ignore them. Frankie is like a child. If you give it attention, they'll keep doing it.” Tricia grabs my hand, leading me up the porch stairs into the house.
My eyes take in all the people. Everyone is laughing and having fun. Some of the girls are even dancing together. Everyone looks so free. An unexpected lump forms in my throat.
“Bathroom?” I ask.
“It’s around the corner. The second door on your right. Meet me in the kitchen when you're done,” she shouts after me. I’m already bolting for it, not wanting to burst into tears. I’m not sure where the rush of emotions came from. I was having fun. What the heck?
I round the corner and collide with a large body. The container of cookies I’m still carrying drops to the floor. Two strong hands grip my shoulder, stopping me from falling backwards.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, embarrassed at my clumsiness. I lift my head to see who I ran into, but all I see is a solid chest. I have to drop my head all the way back to look up, and my eyes connect with warm brown ones. My stomach tightens at how handsome he is. They did not make boys like him where I came from.
“You okay?” he asks. I nod my head. I can’t seem to form words at the moment. “Are you crying?”
“Think you dropped this.” Another boy standing next to the one holding my shoulders interrupts, offering the container of cookies. “These have weed in them?” he asks, shaking them around in the container.
“My grandpa made them.” A slow smile spreads across his face. It’s then I realize the boy I ran into still has his hands on my shoulders.
“Your grandpa. You one of the South View girls?” He lifts his brows.
“This one’s not for you, Logan,” the handsome boy says. His hands tighten on my shoulders for a second then he drops them like he suddenly realized he still had a hold on me.
“Excuse me.” I slip by both of them, finding the bathroom quickly. I lock the door, leaning up against it.
I take a deep breath, trying to get myself together. Maybe I can stay in here for the rest of the night and no one will notice.
Chapter Seven
Colt
“Get your ass to the party, Logan. Move on from Renoir, Logan. Tommy’s bringing chicks from South View, Logan. This one’s not for you, Logan,” my catcher mocks.