“HELLOOOO.” CHELSEA SNAPS her fingers in my face. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I lie, shaking my head. I’m thinking about Cole. Two days ago, he and his family left for California because his uncle Marcus, Jay’s dad, is dying.
Apparently, he’d been sick for some time, but Jay left that part out when she told me about her dad. According to Cole, the night Jay returned from St. Thomas, Marcus King’s health took a turn for the worse, and he was given a few months at best.
I guess that explains why I hadn’t heard from Jay. It’s been six months since we said our goodbyes at the airport in St. Thomas. However, it doesn’t explain why she blocked my calls.
“Yo!” Justin Phillips, my friend and teammate, calls out, pulling me from my thoughts, as he drops down in the empty chair beside me. “You coming to my party tonight?”
“Of course, he is,” Chelsea says at the same time Reagan says, “Of course, we are.” They sneer at each other.
My eyes flick between the two of them before I shake my head and tell them to grow up. Reagan and I have been officially dating for a few weeks now, against Chelsea’s protests. Chelsea thinks Reagan isn’t good enough for me, and, apparently, Chelsea also thinks she’s my mother. I turn to Justin. “We’ll be there.” Reagan smiles triumphantly at Chelsea, and I inwardly roll my eyes.
Perfect example of why I’ve avoided relationships.
It all started the night of Brad’s end-of-summer party—the night I came back from St. Thomas.
“Hey, Zach,” she said as she walked up, holding a red Solo cup in one hand and using the other to play with her hair. “How was your summer?”
All I could think was Holy shit, she’s finally talking to me.
No. Scratch that.
She was flirting with me.
“Good. Yours?” My voice came out a little high-pitched, so I cleared my throat, and took a sip of my drink in an effort to calm the hell down and have a normal conversation with her.
“Boring till now.” She winked.
Yep, she was definitely flirting.
When the party was over, I crashed in the guest room. A few minutes later, Reagan came in and crawled in the bed beside me. We talked for a little while about nothing important. Then she leaned over and kissed me.
I won’t lie. I kissed her back.
I’d always wanted to kiss her.
But then guilt settled in the pit of my stomach, forcing me to pull away.
Jayla.
I couldn’t tell Reagan the reason we had to stop was because I was in love with my best friend’s cousin and risk Cole finding out what happened in St. Thomas. Instead, I told Reagan I didn’t have a condom. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. The next morning, I woke with a feeling of dread. I felt sick with guilt, like somehow I’d betrayed Jay. I needed to clear my conscience, so I called Jay to come clean about what happened with Reagan, but every one of my calls went straight to voicemail, and my texts went unanswered. This continued for two weeks straight. Until I realized all my texts were undelivered.
She’d blocked me.
Not just from her phone but from her life, as if I didn’t exist. As if nothing had ever happened between us. I told her I loved her, and she said she loved me, too. If we were nothing else, I thought we were at least friends. But instead, she crushed me, and broke my damn heart. I know I sound like a little bitch, whining over a girl, but she isn’t just some girl. She’s supposed to be my girl.
Football season had started, and, surprisingly, Reagan was still interested. I wasn’t. I hadn’t touched her since that night at Brad’s. I was too messed up over Jay, wondering what went wrong, and why the hell she blew me off. When Labor Day weekend finally came, I still secretly held out hope that Jay would show up.
She didn’t.
The following weekend, Reagan and I hooked up. And we continued to hook up for months. I wasn’t sure I wanted more with her. She was cool and good at sex, but she was a flirt and a little self-centered. I find that to be the norm with most girls, but I didn’t trust her. Maybe it wasn’t just her I didn’t trust.
Maybe it was all girls.
I blame Jay.
Either way, my heart was off-limits.
If that makes me an asshole, well….
Reagan was fine with it. “It is what it is. It works for us.” Her words.
“Wear something sexy for me,” Justin says to Chelsea with a wink. Chelsea rolls her eyes, brushing him off. Justin’s been chasing after Chelsea for years, but either she doesn’t realize it or she doesn’t care. I offered to talk to her, but Justin said, “No, I want her to figure it out on her own.” Justin’s a good dude, so, hopefully, Chelsea will figure it out before it’s too late.
“You and your brothers are only throwing this party as an excuse to gawk at tits and asses all night,” Lexi chides, narrowing her eyes.
“Will yours be there?” Justin asks, jerking his eyebrows up and down.
“Watch it, Phillips,” our friend, Evan, and Lexi’s boyfriend, warns, picking up a french fry from his tray and chucking it at Justin’s head.
THE PHILLIPS BROTHERS’ annual “CEOs and High-class Hoes” Valentine’s Day party is basically a Halloween party on Valentine’s Day, with a slutty theme. It’s just another excuse to throw a party. And like Lexi said, to gawk at tits and asses all night.
The house is littered with dudes in half-buttoned dress shirts and loosened ties, alongside girls dressed in anything from short dresses to skimpy lingerie.
Reagan looks hot in her pink and black lace corset top, paired with a short black miniskirt that shows off her thigh-highs and pink and black lace garter belt. She had to change in my car because Judge Vaughn would die if he saw his little girl in this getup.
Reagan grabs my arm, and I bend down so she can speak into my ear over the loud music. “I’m gonna go find Ashton,” she tells me before she disappears into the crowd.
Evan and Lexi are in the media room watching a car commercial on the TV. If there’s a TV on somewhere, that’s where I’ll find Lexi, and Evan by default, because they’re attached at the hip. Lexi is obsessed with the entertainment channels. I’m sure it’s has something to do with her mom being some big-time movie star.
I make my way to the sofa and drop down on the end. “What are we watching?”
“Entertainment News,” Lexi tells me. “Marcus King died.”
“What?” I knew it was coming but I feel like someone just reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. I could cry. Poor Jay. And Cole. I can still picture the devastation on his face the day he left for California.
Lexi nods to the television, picking up the remote, and turning up the volume.
Video footage of Marcus King performing during a Royal Mayhem concert plays on the TV, as a male voice filled with sadness filters in over the sound of the video. The words “I can’t believe he’s gone” pop up on the screen, the person speaking noted as entertainment attorney Jack Reynolds.
The female correspondent opens with her typical dramatic drawl. “Heartbreaking news tonight for Royal Mayhem and America’s Voice fans. Forty-five-year-old Marcus Alexander King has died. A representative for the family, Attorney Jack Reynolds, confirmed that the singer, and America’s favorite judge on the reality TV show America’s Voice, passed away peacefully this morning at his Malibu home with his family by his side. The details surrounding King’s cause of death are still unknown at this time, but a source tells us that he had been battling cancer for over a year. While we are all shocked and saddened by the news, our hearts and prayers go out to King’s family, friends, and, of course, his fans. The King family also released a statement: ‘It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved son, husband, father, brother, and friend, Marcus Alexander King. On behalf of the family, we would like to thank everyone for their love, support, and prayers. We also ask that you respect our privacy during our time of grief.’”