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Madison gives me a curt, “Thank you,” when I drop her off at home a little later. Really, she doesn’t sound all that grateful for the ride. Her tone makes me feel like she just flipped me off instead.
All the lights at her house are off, and it’s obvious that no one is home. Oakley tries to talk her into coming with us, but she won’t. She’s mad at me for interrupting her conversation with Jared, and she’s too stubborn to let it go. So, she disappears behind the front door of that empty place, lights illuminating through the windows as she moves from room to room.
“I don’t like leaving her here alone at night,” Oakley says while worrying her lower lip.
I let the Bronco idle in her driveway for a few more beats to see if she’ll change her mind. “Is her mom gone a lot?”
“All the time,” my sister answers.
I know Madison often stays at our house, and I know she has arguments with her mom, but I didn’t know she was left home alone frequently.
“Should I go get her?” I ask, watching as Madison’s shadow moves across a window. “Make her come with us?”
Oakley snorts and shakes her head. “You already pissed her off tonight. There’s no way she’s coming over now.”
“What did I do?” I ask defensively, shifting into reverse and backing out of her driveway.
“You cockblocked her.”
My eyebrows fall as I glare over at my sister. “What do you know about cockblocking?”
“I’m almost sixteen, not six,” she scoffs.
“Still”—I glance at her and then back at the street—“I don’t ever want to hear those words out of your mouth again.” I shiver in disgust.
Oakley rolls her eyes.
We drive home, and it takes me exactly twenty minutes to clean up and leave again for the party. Oakley stays in, mostly because our parents make her. But I could use a night out alone. When my sister is at the same party as me, I spend the entire time making sure she stays out of trouble and less of it enjoying myself. I could use a night off from my brotherly duties.
The party is raging by the time I arrive. Most of the senior class is here and all of the hockey team. And because the athletes are here, the house is brimming with females. Erin Scofield approaches me as soon as I walk into the living room, latching on to my arm. She’s wearing a short skirt and a fitted sweater that’s so tight that it should be illegal. Erin’s my age and the captain of the cheerleading squad. We’ve had a few classes together over the years.
She tosses her light-brown hair over her shoulder and laughs at everything I say, even when I’m not trying to be funny. She flirts shamelessly with me. I let her. I even flirt back a little, though I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea. She’s been after me since freshman year. I get the impression she’s looking for a husband, not a hookup. And I am not husband material. I’m only eighteen. I’m not even boyfriend material right now.
Erin trails me when I find a group of my teammates. She sticks around when we start rehashing the game. The moment she starts to inject flighty comments in the middle of our conversation is when she starts to annoy me, reminding me of why I’ve never hooked up with her in the past. I want to tell her to stop trying so hard, but I don’t know how to say it without sounding like an asshole.
A commotion in the middle of the living room steals my attention. I glance over, and my eyes widen when I see Madison dancing suggestively on the coffee table.
When did she get here?
I watch her for a few seconds. She looks like a cross between a dancer in a Britney Spears video and a stripper. As soon as the word stripper crosses my mind, she whips her shirt overhead and swings it in a circle, like she heard my thoughts and took it as a challenge. Her shapely hips are swaying to the beat, and she tips her head back, laughing when half the guys in the room start whistling and egging her on. I can feel all their eyes on her exposed skin as her tits sway and spill over the cups of her bra. She’s one move away from a nip slip. There isn’t a bashful bone in this girl’s body. I know because I’ve seen her parading around the pool over the summer. But at the same time, she’s never been an exhibitionist before.
I’m stalking across the room before my thoughts have fully circulated inside my head.
“Are you drunk?” I demand when I’m standing in front of her.
She smiles down at me and keeps moving without a care in the world. I clench my fists to stop me from reaching for her.
“Nope,” she says, popping the P. “I’m just naturally the life of the party.”
“How did you get here?”
Madison has her license, but she shares a car with her mom. And that car was missing when we dropped her off earlier.
“You aren’t my only mode of transportation, Ollie,” she grumbles. “And not that it’s any of your business, but one of the guys gave me a ride.” She glances around casually like she’s not standing on top of the furniture with her shirt dangling from her fingertips and her tits hanging out of her Victoria’s Secret bra.
I’m flinging her over my shoulder before she can blink, but she recovers quickly, pounding on my back with her fists.
“Put me down, Ollie.”
