Page 13 of Under the Influence

We step out into the night air, Madden pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket.

“What the hell was that about?” I ask.

Madden just growls, “That’s Drayton Lewis. He pitches for Oak Valley, and I hate him.”

I giggle, “You hate him because of baseball?”

These stupid baseball players and the rivalry in this town.

“No, I hate him because he’s a prick, and he thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing the cigarette from him, “He looks harmless.”

Madden laughs, “If you say so, I see a shark. The same ones that run Legacy, just dressed in Oak Valley clothes.”

Knowing what I know about the kids at Legacy makes Oak Valley seem like a walk in the park.

Madden stills, “Drayton is Nash’s stepbrother.”

What?

An unexpected sense of fulfillment races through me. I can’t explain it or where it’s even coming from, but I’m happy to know that Nash is suffering for once.

The Sharks hate Drayton, and I hate the Sharks.

I hand Madden his cig and march right back inside the party.

“Lainey,” Madden warns, his steps close to my heels, practically chasing me. “If he finds out. It means war!”

The crowd separates as I enter the house. A raging jealousy pulses through me as I spot him with his hand on someone else. I push a petite blonde out of my way and yank Drayton Lewis away from the girl standing next to him.

His eyes pierce into mine, confused but amused. Everyone goes eerily silent. Every single stare trained on us.

I don’t take the time to think about the consequences or about the fact that there will be hell to pay when I go to school. I just kiss him.

He drags his hand up my back, his fingertips causing me to nearly shiver. His tongue matches mine, the most perfect kiss I’ve ever had.

Not that there’s been that many to compare it to.

Several whistles and cheers fill the silence, and I realize I’m causing a scene. I pull away, just enough to speak.

“I’ll never be a Shark.”

CHAPTER

SIX

CARSON

After an hour and a half in the cages, my arms are sore and I need ibuprofen, or ice. Probably both. Our Coach will be pissed if he finds out. I’m supposed to be taking it easy, not risking an injury before the season starts.

I pull into my driveway and find Dad standing on the porch, his arms crossed with that look that makes me wanna pull right back out.

“Where have you been?” He asks, his tone aggravated, “Practice was over hours ago. Where is your phone?”

I pull my phone out of my pocket, handing it to him, his eyes going wide.

“Thirty missed calls?” He questions, raising his brow.