Leaning back against the bench, I looked up at a sky full of stars, and I inhaled. Why is it that when you’re faced with the billion tiny lights of the galaxy, you feel a comforting sense of unimportance, like your problems are nothing? That there’s more to life, to the world, than what you think, like humans are all part of some big plan, a grand design God set out for us to play out. But as soon as you look away from that blanket of diamonds, all your problems slam home once more, and any shit you’re going through crushes you. All issues you have stab you in your chest, and everything’s illuminated.
“Where’s he going?” I heard Reece say as I stared down at the floating lime in my Mexican beer. An elbow nudged my side. Looking up, I saw Reece pointing to Rome sprinting across the street in the direction of a sorority house. Reece was still looking at me in question, so I shrugged my shoulders.
Glancing across the patio, I saw Ally, Cass, and JD hanging out by the grill. But that cheerleader was nowhere in sight.
When the conversation around me shifted to this year’s holiday plans, I knew it was time to move on. I couldn’t sit here, the trailer trash thorn among the roses, while the guys discussed their white picket-fenced houses and cookie-cutter families, sharing gifts and Christmas fuckin’ cheer.
“I’m out,” I told Reece as I stood up and walked through the manicured garden into the frat summerhouse. Only Rome and me had a key to this place. Pretty fucked up of us, I know, but as the most senior members of both the Tide and the frat, our word was law. Rome rarely came back here anymore, so it was mostly mine. Christ knows I had to get away sometimes.
Reaching for the key in my pocket, I fished it out and opened the wooden door, deciding not to turn on the lights. If I did, drunken coeds came trying to use it for a fuck pad. Didn’t wanna cope with that tonight.
The summerhouse was small but one helluva stunning place: all wooden walls and floors, thick red drapes at the windows, two brown leather couches, an open fire, a small kitchenette, a TV, and the crowning glory, a huge fuck off skylight in the ceiling, flooding only the center of the house with light. Just another example of how footballers get treated in this town.
What twenty-one-year-old frat boy needs a fuckin’ summerhouse? But I spent a lot of time here. I couldn’t bear parties like this, watching guys playing beer pong and cracking on chicks, when Mamma could be in her trailer, lying in pain, or my brothers could be getting shot in a drive-by. I had to keep my head down and just get to the draft. That was my role in this mess. To get drafted and save us all.
No pressure.
Football was my way out.
It was my answer.
It’s the answer to all the Carillos’ prayers.
Slouching on the sofa, I pulled out my phone. Axel had texted me.
Axel: Made enough cash for those pills for Mamma tonight. Levi’s doing good on the streets, picking up good trade. Mamma’s doing better than a couple of hours ago. Managed to get her off to sleep. We’re getting it done the Carillo way, Aust. Let’s keep it going.
But just as I put my phone back in my pocket, feeling numb, all hell broke loose outside. Seeing flashes of light shadowing on the light wooden walls of the summerhouse, I jumped up and pulled the curtains shut, leaving just enough room through the heavy velvet material to see what was happening. I was pretty far back here at the house and shaded by some trees. Whatever was going down, I should be safe from view.
Then I saw uniforms.
Campus police along with real cops, holding dogs on leashes, stormed the party. Some students were running; some were too drunk to realize what was happening. And then I saw the dean step out onto the patio, his eyes roving the crowd as he strutted in his expensively tailored gray suit.
Fuck, that cunt hated me.
The cops lined up the partying students one by one, and the working dogs began their search. Shit, the K-9! My stomach fell when I realized what they were doing—looking for drugs.
Several students were running across the street, trying to outrun the raid, and the cops were chasing them down. I was just thankful I’d chosen to come hide out in here, but then I heard a rattling at the summerhouse door.
Slamming the curtains shut, I glanced to the doorknob… and I saw it was unlocked.
Shit!
Before I’d even had a chance to get across the room to block whoever was trying to get through, the door flew open and someone slipped inside. I froze, stock still, as the door pushed closed and whoever it was pressed their back against the wood and sighed in relief as they locked the door. Where I stood was pitch black; they didn’t even know I was here.
I could barely see the outline of a small figure. It was a chick. I could also smell her perfume, so unless one of the Tide players had decided to go Coco Chanel on our asses, it was definitely a female.