The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

“But you told him you loved him.”

“For a while, he was decent to me, so for a moment there, it felt right. He had a pretty face, pretty body, and we got along. I said the words, but they proved empty as soon as he did. Make sense?”

“It does. Plus, he’s bad in bed.”

“Yeah, there’s that. I’m not proud of myself, I stooped low.”

“At least you knew his name.”

“You didn’t catch her name?” There was clear insinuation with her question, but I couldn’t argue with it. And I shouldn’t have left her there without at least getting her name. I could get it from Troy if I really wanted it, but I lack the desire. And whether I like it or not, I let it happen. I took part.

“I freaked out. I don’t think I have any skin left…anywhere.”

“Damn.”

“I just…” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I wanted it to be different.”

“How?”

“For starters, I want to want to remember it.”

“I get it. Really,” she assures me only making me feel more like a needy douche. “So, if we’re not going to exchange names but bare our souls to the other, I say I go steal a bottle and come back out.”

“Sure.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll wait here.”

She pauses on her knees, her silhouette impossible to trace with my double vision. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“There’s no way you saw that.”

“I felt it.”

“All I’m saying is you don’t have an obligation to come back here.”

“And I don’t feel like I do. I’ll be back.” She treads through the murky yard, magically retrieving her phone by sense alone just as a few guys stumble onto the grass, blocking my view. She’s small in stature, that much I gather. Minutes later, I’m on my back, staring at the starless night sky when she returns.

“All I managed to get was a bottle of banana rum because no one drinks this shit.”

“I’ll take it.” I dr

aw from the bottle as soon as she passes it to me and re-cap the lid. “Blech. It’s warm.”

“Beggars and choosers,” she says before taking a long drink. “So, what year are you?”

“Junior, you?”

“Senior. Home stretch.”

“Plans for after?” I ask as casually as I can muster with the ill-feeling of warm liquor coating my throat.

“Easy, take over the world,” she giggles.

“Good plan.”

“You?”

I shrug though she can’t see it. “An idea.”

“Listen to us, talking like a couple of adults about our future.”