Page 104 of Playboy Playmaker


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“Holy shit! You’re Reed Davidson, can I have a photo, man?”

“Sorry, dude, I’m looking for someone.” I sidestep him then take the stairs two at a time and make my way down the hallway until I find the bathroom. When I swing the last door to the right open, I find my sister sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mascara streaking down her cheeks and a drunken grin.

“Oh, it’s my brother, lovely,” she slurs. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She drops her head in her hands and groans obnoxiously loud. “He always ruins my buzz.”

Well damn, I’m hurt. Sorry I have to be the semi-responsible one of the two of us.

“Went a lil’ hard tonight, did ya, Em?” I tease.

My eyes drift to Holland, who’s leaning against the vanity wearing a worried expression. I get it. Em’s shitfaced and puking everywhere, but it’s nothing some painkillers and water can’t cure.

Em looks up at me and grins. “Well, someone has to have fun for the both of us. You’re kinda a stick in the mud now.”

“Nah, baby sis, I just don’t like getting trashed and then puking in the sorority girls’ toilet.”

She flips me the middle finger with her black manicured nail, but laughs, which quickly turns into a moan. “Shit, my head. There’s two of you. Why are there two of you? I can barely handle one.”

Holland throws her head back and laughs, and I narrow my eyes at her then Emery.

“You know, for being your knight in shining armor, you two sure are mouthy.”

Holland rolls her eyes and looks like she’s going to say something, but Emery speaks up instead. “My jerk of a frat douchebag boooooyfriend broke up with me so we took looooots of shots. Lots and lots of shots. I lost count.”

“Thank fuck, I thought I was gonna have to beat the shit out of the guy to get rid of him.”

“Shut up. He was nice… and smart.”

I laugh. “Yeah, just your type.”

I’m sure Em gets sick of my teasing, but it’s what we do. We talk shit to each other like it’s our religion. If Emery wasn’t talking shit to me on the daily, I’d think something was wrong.

“So, you want me to help you up or do you plan on sleeping here tonight?”

“I’m becoming one with the floor.” She groans.

I reach down and lift her off her feet, and she stands shakily on her heels. I toss my arm over her shoulder to steady her.

“Please do not puke in my truck or I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

I stop dead and look at her. “I’m serious.”

Even though I’m not. I chuckle and take the damp rag that Holland is holding out for me then wipe Em’s face. Em’s got her eyes closed and she’s looking a bit green, so I do her the favor of wiping some of the smeared makeup and dried throw up off, before handing it back to Holland.

Growing up, I’d been the one Em called when she needed someone. We didn’t have a dad, so she had me. I changed her tires in high school and beat the shit out of the guy that called her a slut after she wouldn’t sleep with him.

I’ve always done whatever I could to protect her, that’s what I’m here for. When we were kids, she’d follow me around and do everything that I did. She had a stick in her hand at five years old and could skate circles around most of my friends, even though we were eight and twice as big as her. My entire life she’s been my shadow and I guess there could be a worse best friend than your baby sister.

We walk out of the sorority house, down the concrete driveway and when we get to my truck, I pick Emery up and put her in the passenger seat.

She moans and groans the entire time, like she’s losing a damn limb.

“Sheesh, you're dramatic.”

“Runs in the family, I guess.”

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