Truth Game : Ocean Bay #3 Page 8

  "Oh my god, I'm so out of here," Molly groaned, breaking free of my hold and hurrying towards the entrance. "Weirdos."

  24 Molly

  Ah, the graceful art of tea-bagging; another unfortunate piece of information I had learned about tonight.

  Thankfully, I was too busy helping the guys find Rourke before he 'raised hell' and conveniently using it as an opportunity to avoid my so-called best friend – to dwell on the thought of said BFF's freaking scrotum lodged in one of his side-chicks' throats.

  Why did you let him kiss you like that?

  God, I wished I knew.

  One minute, we'd been fighting about my father, and the next?

  Lord, my face burned when I thought about what we had done next.

  Falling for him is only going to make everything a million times harder when he gets bored and moves on – because he will move on, Molly. No guy that looks like Daryl is going to want to be with someone like you in the long run.

  Too late for that, I thought to myself.

  You're already in love with him…

  You're eighteen years deep in love with him…

  Pain hit me square in the chest and I felt what little confidence I had managed to muster up waver.

  The grand total of my sexual experience was cringeworthy, but Daryl's was absolutely terrifying.

  I'd lost count of the number of girls rumored to have been with him.

  Was I just another name on that list?

  Another notch on his bedpost before he went off to college and took over the world of sport?

  Oh god, I hoped not…

  "Molly!" A familiar voice called out, dragging me from my tumultuous thoughts.

  "There you are," I mumbled, sagging in relief when my eyes landed on Mercy waving at me from the edge of the dance floor. She was wrapped around a smiling and un-bruised Rourke. Thank god. "I've been searching all over for you guys."

  "Wow," Mercy gushed when I reached her, eyes roaming over my body. "You look…"

  "Overdressed?"

  "Amazing," she countered and then threw her arms around me. "You look freaking amazing, Molls."

  Hardly.

  "So do you."

  "I'll go get those drinks," Rourke announced, pressing a kiss to Mercy's cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

  "Wait…" I tried to call out, but he was gone before I could stop him.

  Well shit…

  "So, where's Daryl?"

  Hopefully stopping your boyfriend from wreaking havoc!

  "Who knows," I replied, distracted. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere talking to some random girl or other."

  Or maybe he's getting tea-bagged by Casey Garza again.

  Ugh.

  Gag.

  Don't think about it, Molly…

  Concern laced her voice when she said, "Molls…"

  "I'm okay," I hurried to soothe, instantly feeling bad for worrying my friend. "Honestly, Mercy, I'm cool." Just jealous, nauseous, and a little stabby.

  "Do you want to dance?"

  No. In fact, I can think of a million other things I'd rather do, some of which involves digging my eyeballs out with a rusty spoon.

  "Molls?"

  "Huh?"

  "Did you hear me?"

  "Oh, yeah, the dancing." I nodded and smiled brightly. "Hell yes."

  25 Daryl

  My number one priority right now should be finding Rourke and performing some major damage control before he got himself arrested.

  It wasn't.

  Instead, my head was back with my other best friend; the one who had disappeared into the dance like she couldn't get away from me fast enough.

  I had hoped to bring Molly back to my house after homecoming wrapped up, but Reebo and Bear had done a mighty fine job of messing those plans up.

  Jesus, I'd never seen a girl switch from hot to ice as quickly as she had.

  It fucking sucked, but how could I blame her when my friends had listed off my sexual history?

  It didn't matter if all we did was watch movies and talk. I needed to be with her. She grounded a part of me that had been floating around for years now.

  I just wanted time with her.

  One on one.

  And now?

  Hell, now I'd be lucky if she danced with me.

  Stupid fucking Casey Garza and her lack of a gag-reflex.

  Aw screw it.

  I needed a drink.

  "Rumor has it you've got a kid on the way," were the first words I heard when I entered the hotel bar.

  "Wow, that didn't take long," I deadpanned, stepping around Maleficent the second, and making a beeline for the bar. "Good news travels fast around here."

  "Yeah," she huffed, following me. "That and chlamydia."

  "Well, you'd know all about that." I sighed heavily and flagged the bartender. "What do you want, Ash?"

  "Is it true?"

  "Hey, darlin'," the raspy voiced bartender with the ginormous rack purred when she swaggered over to me. "That was one helluva game you played tonight. What can I get you?"

  "Hey, Janice." The fact that I was eighteen didn't matter a damn around here. I was the town's so-called rising star; chartered for the big time. Being served was one of the perks. "I'll take the usual."

  "Uh-huh." She winked and set about making my order.

  "Ugh," Ash grumbled, scrunching her nose up at Janice's retreating frame. "I can't believe you fucked that grandma."

  "Janice? She's thirty-eight, Ash. Hardly a grandma."

  "She's nasty."

  I shrugged off her words. "She's always been nice to me."

  "Well?" Ashley snapped, drawing my attention back to her. "Is it true?"

  "Jesus." I sighed, entirely uninterested in the girl in the sparkly pink dress. "Is what true, Ash?"

  "The walking scab of Ocean Bay," she hissed. "Freddy fucking Kruger. Did you seriously knock her up?"

  My hackles rose as I twisted sideways to glare at her. "Call her that one more time and see what happens."

  She opened her mouth to say something catty no doubt, but the look in my eyes had her swiftly snapping it shut.

  "Wise choice," I growled.

  "People heard y'all talking outside of the hotel," she went with instead. "About the baby."

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to the bar.

  "Well?"

  "Well what?" I snapped, facing her once more.

  "Is it true?"

  No, it was wasn't true. It was a running joke between two friends that some gossipy assholes had overheard and ran with, but I wasn't about to give her the inside scoop.

  "Whether it's true or not, it's none of your goddamn business, Ashley." Janice returned with a tray of shooters and a couple of tall glasses of my favorite; rum and coke. "You're a lifesaver, Janice," I told her, reaching into my pocket for my wallet.

  "Put your money away, darlin'," she replied, reaching over the counter to pat my cheeks. "Enjoy your night."

  Grinning, I swiped a shot glass up and quickly tossed it back. "Thanks."

  "Uh-huh." Offering me a wink, she turned on her stripper heels and hurried off to serve her other customers.

  "You do realize that she's a gold digger."

  "Who – Janice?"

  "No…" Ash drawled. "Although that trailer trash grandma is definitely one of those. But I was referring to your little side-kick."

  "We are talking about the same Molly Peterson, right? You do realize that she's got more money than me – shit, more than most of our grade put together?" I shot back. "She has an inheritance that rivals Rourke's. Trust me, she's not interested in my money."

  Ash rolled her eyes. "Maybe she has more money than you now, but once you're drafted, you'll be a cash freaking cow."

  "Ah," I mused and tossed another shot back before saying, "but I'll never be your cash cow."

  "You're making a mistake with her."

  "What's your problem?" I demanded. "What the hell happened in your life to twist you into th
e bitter bitch standing in front of me tonight?"

  "Life happened."

  "Nah, girl, Britt happened," I corrected. "I've known you all of your life, remember, and you used to be nice. Before that spiteful bitch got her claws into you."

  Ash reddened. "She's my best friend."

  "And you're her favorite minion," I shot back. "On call to do her dirty work whenever she snaps her damn fingers at you. But Molly? She's an innocent. She doesn't deserve Britt's crap and deep down inside you know that."

  She stared at me for a long moment before blurting, "Playing that song over the intercom at school wasn't my idea."

  "I know," I told her, reaching for another shot. "But you didn't stop it, either. You stood back and watched her do it. You're an accomplice to her bullshit, which makes you guilty by association." Tossing back the last shooter on the tray, I grabbed the glasses of rum and cokes and stepped around her. "Stop being a bystander in your own damn life and step the hell up."

  26 Daryl

  As fate would have it, I ended up finding my wide-receiver without having to look for him at all.

  Thank Jesus for small mercies…

  "Great minds think alike," I said, colliding with Rourke in the foyer of the hotel, where he was laden down with four glasses of Jack and coke, and looking hella rattled. Raising one of my glasses to him, I swallowed deeply. "You good, man?"

  "No," he bit out, voice strained. "I fucked up."

  I cocked a brow. "How?"

  "I called her Britt."

  My brows furrowed. "You called who…" Reality dawned on me and I gaped at his stupid face. "Tell me you didn't!"

  "I did."

  "Let me get this straight; you called Mercedes – your current squeeze – by your former squeeze's name? The same former squeeze that's been making her life a living hell for months?"

  Rourke grimaced. "Don't say it like that!"

  "What other way is there to say it?"

  "It was a mistake," he groaned, looking a little green now, as we walked into the ball room and snagged an empty table. "I swear to god, dude, I have no fucking idea why I said her name." A shudder of repulsion racked through him as he sank down on a chair and set his glasses down, splashing alcohol all over the fancy white linen tablecloth. "I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about her. Why the hell would I think about her when I've got Six?"

  "I believe you," I told him, taking the seat next to his and setting my glasses down.

  Who in their right mind would willingly think about that horrible fucking human?

  "What should I do, D?" he asked, attention flicking from me to the dance floor, where his date was currently twerking her ass all up on my date.

  Jesus…

  "You're asking me for girlfriend advice?" I tore my gaze off the girls and gaped at him. "Dude, how the fuck would I know? The longest relationship I've ever had is with you."

  It was the regrettable truth.

  "Not helping, D," Rourke groaned, pulling at his bowtie, attention honing in on the girls once more.

  I smirked. "I'll tell you one thing; if you keep staring at her like that, your damn eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head."

  "Fuck you," he chuckled with a shake of his head. "How's your date tonight?"

  Ouch.

  "Please don’t." Reaching over, I grabbed one of my glasses of rum and coke and drained the whole damned thing before saying, "I'm holding onto my control tonight by the skin of my teeth." Slamming the empty glass back down, I picked up the second glass and tipped it back. "Bring her up to me, and I'm gonna lose it."

  Rourke shrugged. "Fair enough."

  Against my best efforts, my gaze flicked to Molly and I had to bite back a groan. Reebo and Bear had probably set me back weeks' worth of ground work. She was only starting to loosen up around me, and now?

  Fuck…

  "I can't believe you called her Britt," I offered, steering my thoughts back to Rourke's current predicament – which, to be fair, seemed a helluva lot worse than mine. Molly was sweet and level-headed. Mercedes was a goddamn freight train of drama and emotion. "You're such a dumbass."

  "Yeah, well," he huffed out a breath. "It's not like I'm proud of myself for it."

  "You shouldn’t be," I said in total agreement. "You're the happiest I've seen you in years with that girl, and then you go and call her Britt?" I shook my head. "It's like you have a self-sabotage button, Rourke." After a pause, I added, "You need to apologize."

  "Fuck that." He glowered back at me. "If I apologize then it means I'm guilty of something. Six will think I'm guilty."

  I gave him a 'you are guilty' look. "And if you don’t apologize, you'll be an asshole."

  "So, this is one of those, I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don’t situations?"

  "Exactly." I nodded in agreement. "Good luck with that, by the way. If you live to see the other side, tell me how you did it. You know –" I paused to shrug, "in case I ever fuck up and call the girl I love the wrong name."

  "That's exactly it!" he spat, throwing his hands up. "Why would I even think about anyone else when I'm in…" His brows furrowed. "Fuck!"

  I grinned. "Go on."

  "I love her." He looked comically horrified. "I love her?"

  "Yeah," I agreed. "You do."

  "Jesus Christ, I'm in love with her," he breathed, eyes widening. "Holy fuck, I'm in love with her, Daryl. I love her."

  "Yeah, dude, I know."

  He gaped at me. "You know?"

  "Hell fucking yes, I know." I snorted. "Everyone knows. We've been waiting on you to get with the program for a while now." The moment Mercedes James walked her butt into his house way back in the summer, it had been as plain as the nose on Rourke's face that he was rattled by her. Roll on four months later, and everyone and their mother could see that my friend was sunk.

  "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Rourke demanded, looking terrified now. "I don’t want this, man."

  "You don’t get a choice," I told him, unable to hide my smirk. "When that special girl comes knocking, your balls start dropping."

  "I love her," he whispered to himself and then shook his head. "Holy fuck." Lunging forward, he swiped a glass off the table and chugged it back before repeating the task over and over. "This is the suckiest newsflash ever."

  I laughed. "FYI? She loves you too, bro."

  "Why?" His eyes locked on mine. "Did she say something to Molly?"

  "She didn’t have to," I replied. "It's written all over her face every time she looks at you, Rourke. The girl is head over heels in love with you."

  Rourke went right back to staring at Mercedes like the lovesick fool he was before finally jumping to his feet with a determined look etched on his face. "Come on. Let's go."

  "And where exactly are we going?" I drawled, climbing to my feet.

  Fuck it, it didn't even matter what the answer was.

  I would follow the douche pretty much anywhere and it was the same for him.

  Besides, I couldn't have Rourke getting thrown out of his own damn homecoming because of some snot nosed punk from Jefferson.

  With the DJ throwing out some major soppy vibes, I followed my friend onto the dance floor.

  The moment Rourke reached his intended target, he was on her like it was mating season at the fucking zoo.

  Jesus.

  27 Molly

  One minute, Mercy and I were bouncing around like idiots to The Weekend's Blinding Lights, and the next, she was being circled by her hungry looking stepbrother.

  Stepping safely to one side, I watched as their dance moves quickly escalated from playful to Pornhub, with a full make-out session quickly following.

  Good lord…

  Feeling like a weirdo dancing on my own, I turned to leave, only to halt in my tracks when I smacked straight into a hard chest of muscle.

  "Jesus," I laughed, stumbling backwards.

  "Whoa." A strong arm circled my waist, steadying me. "You good, Molls?"

  "Has an
yone ever told you that you're built like a brick house, Daryl King?"

  He grinned sheepishly. "Maybe a time or two."

  "I bet," I laughed, shivering when the arm he had wrapped around my waist tightened. "Oh my god, you reek of alcohol, D."

  He shrugged. "It's the rum."

  I arched a brow. "How very Jack Sparrow of you."

  He grinned wolfishly.

  Taylor Swift's Love Story began to play then and instead of releasing me like I had expected, Daryl pulled me closer. "Wh-what are you doing, D?"

  "What does it look like I'm doing, Dolly?" Taking both of my hands, he placed them around his neck before reaching for my waist once more, our bodies flush now. "I'm dancing with my date."

  Oh god…

  "Wait–" I blew out a shaky breath. "I'm not –"

  "You are, hands down, the most beautiful girl in this room," he interrupted me by saying. "And if I'm going to survive this night, then I'm gonna need you to dance with me, Dolly."

  Exhaling a ragged breath, I gazed up at the boy who'd stolen my heart before I was even old enough to understand what was happening. "This isn't a date, remember?"

  "Sure, sure. Whatever you say." He rolled his eyes and pulled me closer, moving our bodies to the music. "This song reminds me of you."

  My heart leapt in my chest with nervous excitement. "Really?"

  He nodded slowly. "You used to listen to her music all the time when we were kids."

  "I remember."

  "I wanted to kiss you back then, too," he admitted, voice deep and gravelly, as our bodies swayed in unison. "Back when I didn't understand what I was feeling."

  "Really?"

  "Really," he confirmed and then broke into a fit of laughter. "Shit, remember when I tried to kiss you on the playground during kindergarten and you cried? It took me weeks to build up the courage to do it and you screamed in my face."

  "Because I thought you were trying to give me boy-cooties!" I laughed back.

  "I can't believe you cried on me," he chuckled.

  "Yeah? Well, I can't believe you tried to kiss me after I saw you eating mud-pies in the dirt with Rourke."

  "You were my first taste of heartbreak all the way back when I was five-years-old, Molly Sue Peterson." With a heavy sigh, he pressed a tender kiss to my forehead and said, "I hope you don't plan on making a habit of breaking my heart."