Page 27 of Play For Me

“I hate you,” I tell her, and she just cackles.

I turn back to Vega. “It was cool that he got in between them,” I admit, even though I’m inclined to give more of the credit to Jay than his awkward, asshole friend. “But then he turned into a total dick. He was rude to you and to Violet.”

Vi rolls her eyes. “He was fine.”

“He didn’t say a single word to you when you were apologizing and blaming yourself even though it clearly wasn’tyour fault.” I gesture at Vega. “And when she tried to wipe the punch out of his hair he snapped at her.”

“I mean.” Cade shrugs. “Hehadjust been doused with sticky red liquid. Can we really blame the guy for being pissy?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say firmly. “That wasn’t Vi’s fault, or Vega’s.”

“It waskindof my fault,” Vega says. “Since, you know, I’m the one who threw the sticky red liquid.”

“It was Travis’s fault!” I snap. “Regardless, he was rude to you. And I don’t spend time with people who are rude to my cousins.”

Vega shakes her head, but there’s a fond expression on her face. “I appreciate your unending loyalty, Ceece, but you don’t have to hate this guy just because of a couple awkward moments at a party.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Especially if his abs are really as amazing as Vi says.”

“Who exactly are we talking about?” Ash asks. I’d forgotten that he hadn’t been at the party to witness any of this.

“I don’t know his name,” Cade tells him. “I always see him with that Jay kid.”

“Solomon,” Violet says. “That’s what Jay called him.” She looks to me for confirmation. “Right?” I nod. There’s no sense in pretending I don’t remember at this point.

“Wait a second.” Ash, who had been lounging on the ground, sits up straight. “Are you talking about Solomon Barnes?” He stares at me. “Tall guy. Brown hair, wears glasses?”

“Ooh, I forgot about the glasses,” Vi says dreamily. “He lookedgoodin the glasses.”

Hedidlook good in the glasses, and I’ve been trying to pretend I wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t wear them today. “I’m going to slap you,” I tell Vi, and she cackles as I turn to her twin.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s his last name.”

It totally is. I looked him up after practice. And maybe, kinda stalked his Facebook, too.

Ash is shaking his head. “Solomon Barnes is not an asshole.” When I open my mouth to argue, he holds up a hand. “Seriously, Ceece. I’ve been in a poetry seminar with him for the last two semesters. He’s a good guy.”

“Iknewhe was a good guy!” Vega says, clapping.

Ash keeps going. “He’s definitely shy and pretty quiet. Honestly, I think he has some anxiety issues.” Ash shrugs. “Obviously something I would pick up on, right?”

Ash has anxiety issues of his own. And depression issues. Pretty bad ones, actually. The scary kind that I can’t even let myself think about for too long before I start to feel sick.

“But once he gets comfortable in class, he’s talkative enough. Smart as hell,” Ash continues. “And helpful—he’s good at explaining shit when other students don’t understand.” My cousin shrugs. “I like him.”

Vi hums softly. “Do you think that’s why he freaked out about the punch? Could it be an anxiety thing?” She looks at me. “I mean, it totally felt like there was something off about that whole situation.”

My stomach twinges with discomfort. I’d thought there was something off, too. The way his body had gone rigid. How silent he’d been. The way he flinched when Jay offered him a sweatshirt.

And now I’m starting to feel like an asshole. I’d assumed that Solomon was a jerk because he hadn’t bent over backwards to assure the girls it wasn’t their fault. But what if he had been really upset? What if the punch had set him off somehow?

I think about how Ash gets when his anxiety is really bad. Silent and withdrawn. Jumpy. Desperate to be away from crowds and loud noises.

Was something similar happening with Solomon that night?

An image of him from this afternoon jumps to my mind. The way he’d blushed and looked down when the head trainer said he was the best in the year. How freaking adorable that had been to me. How…endearing it was.

And then I see his eyes, dark and intent on my face, like he was trying to decipher my every thought. Like he couldn’t have looked away if he tried.

I don’t really like the way all of this is making me feel. I don’t do this. I don’t sit around and worry about a boy and I certainly don’t sit around and moon over his pretty brown eyes and cute little blush.