Page 93 of End Game

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” He maneuvers me until I’m sitting on his bed with him perched beside me. He takes my hands in his. “What can I do?”

“Distract me.”

I was supposed to go out and get laid tonight. Drink some tequila, flirt with a pretty boy, and get out of my head—and that was before this recent development. I don’t think that’s going to happen now. I’m too keyed up. My dad isn’t allowed to have his phone on him, no screens after a concussion, and I can’t even tell him how much he means to me.

“Okay. I can do that.” He sighs. “Are you going home? Can I pay for your cab?”

“My mom doesn’t want me to come home, not tonight.” I try hard not to let the bitterness reflect in my voice. “She says tomorrow will be better.”

“Okay. So tomorrow morning, I’ll put you in a car and it will take you straight to the hospital. You shouldn’t have to worry about the train schedules.”

I swallow. “Thank you.” I don’t have it in me to protest my friend’s extravagant generosity. He’s helping in the only way he knows how.

The vodka is starting to hit my system. In this light, staring down at me and holding my hands, Barrett looks even more gorgeous than usual. It takes nearly everything in me not to lean forward and kiss him. I didn’t eat nearly enough at dinner tonight. My timing was all messed up, coming from the airport and eating on the go. A soft pretzel and an apple, while delicious, are not nearly enough sustenance for the alcohol I need to consume tonight.

“I need food,” I announce.

Barrett nods. “Okay. Let’s feed you.”

He stands and pulls me to my feet. When I rise, he wraps his arms around me again, pressing my face into his neck.

It’s pouring rain, and almost nine o’clock. We’re not going to the dining hall tonight. We’ll have to make do with whatever meager offerings his fridge has—the fridge he shares with five other guys, and is nearly always empty. My stomach swoops, and it has nothing to do with hunger. No, this is a different kind of appetite speaking up. He smells good.

I’m feeling impulsive and itchy inside my own skin. Normally, I’d go home and take care of the situation with the help of my vibrator, but tonight… I don’t want to be alone. I don’t trust myself to be alone. Knowing the headspace I’m in, I’ll probably end up at a frat party and let some guy I don’t know take advantage of me just to get me out of my head, and it will only leave me feeling worse in the aftermath.

No. I’ll hang out with Barrett, I’ll snuggle with him and let him comfort me, and I’ll get through this terrible night without resorting to fulfilling my baser urges.

My best friend tightens his arms around me. “It’ll be okay, Dee.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t,” he admits. “But I have faith, and that will have to be enough to get us through.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Hopefully you never have to find out.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat, and then you can drink your way through the liquor cabinet.”

He takes me by the hand and pulls me out of his room. As we reach the top of the stairs, he releases me to put his hand on the banister, guiding himself down. Wes is back in his chair, reading his book. It’s a Sunday night in the middle of term. If the other guys are home, they’re otherwise occupied, which works out just fine for me. We don’t always have to do everything as one enormous group.

“We don’t have a lot of food in the house,” Barrett warns me. “Do you want a banana?”

Ordinarily? Yeah. It’s another thing entirely to eat a banana while staring my (very hot, very male) best friend in the eye. All I want is a distraction. All I want is to not hurt.

“We have… hot dogs, shaved turkey, eggplant parm, and string cheese,” he announces, staring into the fridge. “Or popsicles.”

I blink at him. “That’s…” Very phallic. Or is that just where my mind is going?

He tugs on his jeans. “I think Greg did it on purpose.”

“Cheese stick, please.”

He passes one to me and takes one for himself. He peels strips from the mozzarella, eating the little strands individually. I chomp off the head of the cheese stick.

Barrett swallows. “You animal.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I could make you a hot dog.”