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“Everything good with Clo?” I asked.
“As good as it can be. She drives me in-fucking-sane. I wouldn’t be surprised if she turns up later, drunk off her ass. What’d I miss?”
“Cherri tried to lock Nix down for the night.”
“She’s not someone you want to mess with, Wilder.” Kye lifted a brow. “That girl is a different breed.”
“Relax. I can handle the likes of Cherri.”
“If you say so, man.” He chuckled, grabbing a beer. “So, school Monday. You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Seniors.” Kye whistled between his teeth as he uncapped his beer. “Part of me didn’t think we’d ever make it here.”
“Yeah.” I stared off into the distance.
The final year of high school. When you attended a school like Darling Hill High, that was an achievement in itself. By senior year, half the class was usually knocked up, hooked on meth, or too hungover to show up for class.
“Did you call Coach back?”
“Nah. Do I look like the type of guy who goes to college on a full ride?”
“Come on, Nix. You’re good enough, you got to know that. You could go all the way, and—”
“Leave it, Carter. I came here to drown my sorrows, not fucking analyze the shit out of them.”
“And I came here to get laid.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “So I’ll be seeing you two later.”
“Horndog,” Zane grumbled, watching as Kye slipped into the crowd with ease.
He was different to me and Zane. Lighter. More approachable. Like a chameleon, he could adapt to his surroundings and make himself blend in. Sometimes I envied him; his ability to walk into a room and have people gravitate to him. But not because they wanted something from him… because they wanted to be around him.
I’d long forgotten what it felt like to have people genuinely interested in me. They were interested in my game stats, or my dick, or the fact I could hook them up with a keg or smoke.
Wilder was a name that meant something in The Row, and ninety-nine percent of the people I knew wanted to exploit that.
“Senior year, Nix.” Zane let out a heavy sigh, scrubbing his jaw. “That’s some fucked up shit right there. We’re at the top of the food chain now.” A feral grin tugged at his mouth.
But I didn’t share his enthusiasm. Because the problem with being at the top—it was a fucking long way down.
And the fall was inevitable.
“After last year’s success with the Hawks, you know Coach is gonna be riding you hard this season.”
“I’m ready.”
“And if the call does come for college?”
I snorted. “Seriously, drop that fucking shit.” Guys like me didn’t get out of a place like The Row.
“It could happen, Nix. Coach said Albany U were interested.”
I accepted the blunt off Zane, and took a deep hit, letting the smoke roll through my lungs. His premium weed was about the only thing that calmed me down these days. Until school was back and I could take out my aggression on the field.
Summer practice had barely taken the edge off. I needed to be in the gym daily, running drills, and burning off some of the pent-up energy inside me. I needed the distraction. The tether to something real.
“Yeah, well, I’m not,” I grumbled, taking another hit before handing it back to Zane. I didn’t want to talk about senior year, about what came after we graduated. Not tonight. Not ever.
