Page 31 of Under Pressure

“Yeah,” I mutter, stepping back from the counter as my phone buzzes in my pocket. The timer I set for when I needed to get the hell out of here keeps making my thigh vibrate. “I’ll pass on the drink tonight, then. Make sure you lock up before you go back into the kitchen.”

“I will. And for the record, I don’t think you’re the worst athlete who could have found this place.”

“I’ll take that,” I say before grabbing my phone and cancelling the timer. “Have a good night, Callie. AndEli.”

There’s a small clatter from the kitchen when I reach for the door. My smirk feels a bit out of place, even if I do enjoy listening to the guy flounder after getting caught.

Something is settling wrong as I think about what Callie said. Quinn has never brought up knowing me from school, so I’ve followed her lead and kept quiet about it. Maybe I should put an end to that and mention it so we can clear the air.

If it isn’t my reputation that’s got her keeping that steel wall up between us, then maybe it’s coming from something in the past. It’s all fuzzy now, but I don’t remember talking to her much back then. If I did . . . maybe I was an asshole?

Wringing the back of my neck, I reach my car and stare at the sticker on the window. My usual parking spot sits empty now, just like she wanted it. I debate snapping a photo for proof and sending it to her before scolding myself and getting in.

Kellan’s name flashes across the screen in the dash once I start the engine, but I ignore his call. I’ll be there soon enough, even if I’d rather be tracking down a sassy, coffee-obsessed workaholic instead.

12

“I’m not skinny-dipping,”I argue, taking a few short, staggered steps away from Kellan.

Unlike me, he helped himself to Wes’ closet earlier and stole a pair of swim trunks. I nearly pissed myself when I realized his bare ass and balls were going to leave a permanent stain on them. Wes would be better off sending him home in them instead of keeping them once the night is over.

“Wes has, like, eighty pairs in his closet. Go steal one. I even left the hot pink Speedo for you.”

I watch as he does a cannonball into the backlit pool, sending water splashing up and over the cement pad around me. It hits my toes, forcing me back until I hit the perfectly manicured lawn. A series of high-pitched squeals hit the air as the group of women wading in the shallower end react to getting wet.

Months ago, I’d have been all over that. Some cheesy-as-fuck pickup line would have been falling from my lips before I’d even made it into the water and started swimming toward them, more than happy to offer a distraction from my friend’s antics.

The thought of that right now sours my stomach worse than the frothy beer did.

“You’re so fucking weird,” I say, watching Kellan bob up out of the water.

“You used to be fun.”

“Taunting me won’t get me into the pool with you.”

He shakes his hair out like a wet dog, splattering my shins. “You’re only punishing yourself. Look around, buddy. Plenty of mermaids to play with.”

A strained laugh climbs my throat as I finally approach the edge of the pool. He’s not wrong. Despite their annoyance at getting splashed, the women Wes invited tonight seem just fine with continuing to move closer, their eyes clinging to me in a way that I should appreciate. Kellan sure does.

The not-so-subtle way he’s flexing his biceps as he leans against the edge of the pool doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. I snort loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” he asks, dropping his voice a bit.

The beer and whiskey mix in my blood, hitting me smack across the face as I force myself to sit beside him. Luckily, I still have the brainpower to take my shoes and socks off before dropping my feet into the water. The bottoms of my jeans get wet, though.

Oh well.

“Keep what up? I’m here. I’ve already played pong with Wes and drunk the foamy-as-fuck beer he put in those cups.”

He knocks his knuckles on the cement a few times, eyes narrowing on me for a beat. “You know I love you, man. You’re my closest friend.”

“Yeah, I love you, too. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You’re freaking me out. I don’t get you right now. Haven’t for a few weeks now.”

“How drunk are you?” I ask, jaw tightening.

He blows out a breath and spins in the water, resting his back against the side of the pool. “Sober, actually. Kind of.”