Page 8 of Striking Range

I feel his voice vibrate through his body; I feel the hair on the back of his head tickle my face.

“Don’t be mean, puppy. You know you love me.”

Skylar gives up, going slack beneath me as I push more of my weight onto him.

He sighs. “Yeah, I do.”

Kelly is browsing the shelf stocked with whiskey, comparing fluid ounces to price to taste. Our cart is already pretty full, glass bottles clinking together obnoxiously as the wheels hit different cracks and divots. And in the car is a trunk full of snacks and paper cups.

“Is it really that serious?” I question, to which Kelly shoots me a scathing look.

“Yes, it is. We’re all chipping in, and I want to get the best bang for our buck.” She grabs the largest bottle of Crown she can find and drops it into the cart.

“Makes sense.”

Kelly is quiet for a moment, continuing to browse, but she can never stay silent for long. Eventually, she cracks, saying, “I hope Sky loosens up tonight.”

My gaze finds her, turning away from the bottle I was inspecting. “What does that mean?”

“It means that he’s a twenty-two-year-old virgin.” She gives me a blank look. “That boy needs to get crazy.”

I raise a brow, a feeling of anxiety slowly rising in my chest. “I don’t think Sky wants that.”

I put the bottle I’m holding back on the shelf, pretending to focus on a new one. As Kelly doesn’t reply, I add, “I think he’s just fine.”

She sighs. “If he is, then good for him. I’m just saying, might as well set the stage just in case he wants to let loose.” Her large brown eyes peer up at me, resembling a mischievous baby deer. “Haven’t you ever wondered what slutty Sky is like?”

I can feel the heat of a flush coming over me, creeping up my neck and raising goosebumps on my skin.

No, I have not. Will not. Am not allowed to.

“No,” I answer firmly, pushing the cart down the aisle. Kelly snickers.

Skylar is my best friend, and just because I started staring at his ass a few years ago doesn’t mean shit.

Kelly has no idea what she’s talking about.

Everything is set out neatly—liquor lining the bar and a large cooler full of ice set to the side. The plastic cups are stacked nearby; snacks are laid out on the kitchen counters.

Henry is setting up some kind of speaker, and just as some shitty rap song starts to shake the walls of the apartment, Skylar appears from his bedroom.

“Damn, Sky. Lookin’ hot.” Kelly whistles, snapping her fingers in his direction.

Skylar blushes, rolling his eyes to cover up his embarrassment. “Shut up, Kelly.”

But she isn’t wrong. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans that sit low on his hips and a blue shirt that hugs him very well, almost like a second skin. The outfit is so simple, and yet he somehow looks incredibly filthy with such narrow hips and those big eyes.

“What are you glaring at, asshole?” he hisses at me, flicking my forehead.

Oh, I’ve been staring.

“I’m just thinking about how I’ll have to babysit your ass tonight,” I deflect.

Skylar narrows his eyes, scoffing. “I’m pretty sure it’s always me taking your post-orgasm self back home while some girl glares at me from the bed.”

I blush, looking away from his judgmental eyes. “Fair point.”

“Guests are arriving!” Henry shouts over the music, heading toward the front door.