The Harder You Fall (Rixon Raiders 3)

Asher

“Why the fuck is your house full of people?” Jason hissed.

“Nice to see you too, man.”

“I thought it was just going to be the six of us?”

My eyes went over to where Hailee and Cameron were greeting a very confused looking Felicity. “It was, but then Dad called and said they couldn’t make it home, so... party central at your service.”

“You okay?” He eyed me carefully.

“You seem... wound up.”

“Me? I’m fine. Nothing a little shot of Tequila won’t fix. Am I right?” I hollered and the house exploded with cheers as people raised their cups and beers, fist pumping the air like they were at a Black Hearts Still Beat concert.

“You could have given us a heads up. I’d rather not entertain the masses tonight.”

“You’re still pissed about the exhibition game?”

“I just thought it was going to be low key. The three of us and the girls.” His eyes flicked over to where Flick stood.

“Something going on with the two of you?” I asked. He seemed off, and if it wasn’t the game, it only left a handful of things. Felicity was at the top of the list.

“Nah, we’re good.”

As if she heard him, Flick came over to us, tucking herself into Jason’s side. “This is... wow. I was not expecting this tonight.”

“School’s out for the holidays. It’s almost a new year. Graduation is right around the corner. What’s not to celebrate?” I shrugged.

“Are you okay?” she narrowed her eyes at me.

“Jeez, what is up with everyone? Can’t a guy be psyched for the holidays?”

“Asher,” Felicity edged closer to me, laying a hand on my arm. “You can talk to us… if something’s wrong.”

Just then the front door opened and another swarm of people poured in. It was getting rowdy but I hadn’t exactly considered the consequences after the strained conversation with my father. His parting words had been to keep things respectable if I had friends over. But all I’d heard was, ‘throw the biggest fucking party you can’. Because this—rebelling against his orders—was the only way I maintained a tiny bit of control over my life. But no one knew that. Because I was Asher fucking Bennet.

Mr. Popular.

Skilled athlete.

Notorious flirt.

And persistent joker.

I was the life and soul of the party. Not the fun sponge, absorbing the good times away, and bringing the mood down.

“Duty calls,” I said to my friends, unable to stand their looks of concern for a second longer.

Tonight was about celebrating.

It was about getting wasted and having fun.

But most of all, it was about sticking it to the man I called Dad and the future he had all laid out for me.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Cameron eyed the cup in my hand, and I raised it into the air; liquor—vodka, tequila, whisky, I’d lost count of what I was drinking—sloshing up the sides.