Page 38 of Like a Power Play
“Come on!” she calls. “I’m bored kicking their asses, they need help.”
The football players erupt into murmurs before looking at me and nodding.
“Please?” one of them begs, his drunken eyes drooping. I feel bad for them. Harlowe never loses at beer pong.
I look back to the two beside me. Cleo rolls her eyes, while Indie waves me off. “Go,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t worry, Pey. I’ll take care of her.”
I blink.
“Fine,” I relent. “But don’t get her high.” I point a finger at Harlowe and the guys. “And I’m not drinking.”
I don’t know how long we’ve been playing but based on the graveyard of empty cups in front of us, it’s been a while. Harlowe is still undefeated, despite the combined efforts of me and the football players.
“You’re actually a menace,” I grumble, watching her line up her final shot.
She winks at me. “You knew what you were signing up for.”
The plastic ball soars through the air, landing cleanly in our last cup. The guys groan, and I sigh, shaking my head as Harlowe throws her arms up in victory.
“Four and oh, baby!” she crows, pumping her fist.
Ray, one of the football players, nudges me. “Dude, you were supposed to help us.”
“I tried,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. “Some forces are just unstoppable.”
Harlowe smirks. “You boys want a redemption round?”
The guys exchange uncertain looks. I, on the other hand, am already backing away. “You guys have fun. I need a break.”
I weave through the crowd, my stomach growling in a hungry demand. Between the heat, the noise, and the scent of cheap beer, I realize two things: one, I’m starving. And two, I need space.
My eyes squeeze shut, fingers gripping the doorknob to my room as I silently hope—no,pray—there isn’t a couple tangled up on my bed doing the horizontal tango. I push the door open cautiously.
It’s clear.
A sigh of relief escapes me as I slip inside, locking the door behind me. I collapse onto the bed, taking a steady breath. Don’tget me wrong, I love the chaos. But sometimes, I just need to be alone.
Which is unfortunate, because suddenly, a voice breaks through the silence, loud and slurred and grating. “You’re missing your wings, Icarus.”
My gaze snaps to the corner, landing on a head of red hair and freckles. Darcy’s clearly intoxicated, her lids heavy over those emerald eyes, lips pulled into a slanted smirk. She sinks deeper into my black beanbag in the corner, scanning my room.Myspace. Posters of old punk bands, torn concert tickets, and childhood hockey trophies are scattered in chaotic clusters. It’s how I like it, messy, lived in. And I can’t help but feel like Darcy is judging it.
The last time we spoke, we nearly tore each other apart. The smart thing to do would be to ignore her, to let her find someone else to entertain her drunken antics. Or just let her pass out in here, and drag her home later. And yet, I stay planted.
I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because this is the first time in hours I haven’t been crushed by bodies. Maybe it’s because everywhere I turn, I see my teammates doing things I know I should’ve stopped. Or maybe it’s because I feel bad for getting in her face at practice.
Shewastrying to apologize, and I… I just snapped. I felt like a child again, throwing a fit over one of my brother’s meltdowns. I should know better by now. But lately, it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t get anything right.
And Darcy pointing it out tipped me over the edge.
“Dude. You’re like…really green,” she drawls.
I exhale sharply through my nose, reluctant but unable to resist meeting her gaze. Her eyes are narrowed, head cocked, and there’s this ridiculously cute crease between her red, sculpted brows. I shouldn’t find it cute. I shouldn’t notice it at all.
A sigh slips out, half annoyance, half amusement, and I turn fully to face her.
“Yeah, I’m a Ninja Turtle, Darcy,” I say, pointing to the blue mask tied around my head. “Leonardo?”
