Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Get the fuck out of my head, Ash!
Cam pulled away just as Linc jumped onto my back. He wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck. “It’s okay. We’ll make up for it tonight!”
And he was right. I needed to. I could be there to support Ash if he needed me. Hell, I wanted to, but the way he’d touched me? The way I’d wanted him to? I had to put an end to that shit real quick, and Saturgay was the perfect night to do it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ashton
Ashton Carmichael could go all the way!
Music blasted around me as I took my third shot…third? I thought it was my third. Maybe it was my fourth. Who the fuck was counting.
The music made my brain thump, which was sort of welcoming. It helped drown out my thoughts…of Beau…of what I’d said to him last time I saw him…of the feel of his hair and the glint in his eyes and the way he licked his lips and fuck. “One more, please,” I told the bartender, who nodded at me.
Stupid fucking brain. Why couldn’t I make these thoughts go away? Most of the time, I was good at ignoring them, good at pretending they didn’t exist, good at reminding myself that they were just thoughts, not actions. I mean, I liked sex. My brain and libido just got sort of twisted up sometimes.
Liar…such a fucking liar.
My eyes were drawn back to Instagram, to Lincoln’s page, which I’d psychotically memorized when we met at the grocery store. Saw the pictures, the videos of Beau and his friends as they danced and drank. Why the fuck did Beau mess with my head so much? It was so much easier to pretend when he wasn’t around—no, not pretend, because these fleeting moments weren’t real. That wasn’t really who I was.
The past week had been better. I’d been fine…lonely but fine. It also gave me a chance to work through what had happened the other night. It was the emotions of having him back in my life. Beau might not have felt the same, but he’d always been who I considered my best friend. That and the beer, and poof, overly affectionate Ash had made an appearance.
When I refreshed the app, I saw that Lincoln had added to his story.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
Of course I was going to fucking do it.
I clicked on the story, saw Lincoln dancing, laughing. The club was mostly men, which duh, I should have thought about the fact that they went to a gay club, and what the hell was Saturgay anyway? That didn’t sound like Beau.
As Lincoln panned the phone around in a circle, I saw him, a flash of Beau, his arms around someone, their bodies moving together as they danced before—“Go back. Turn the phone the other way!” I told video-Lincoln as though he could hear me.
I shook my head, rubbed a hand over my face. When the bartender set the drink in front of me, I swallowed it all, then hit the glass too hard on the counter.
My vision blurred slightly—from alcohol or whatever the fuck was going on in my head, I didn’t know.
“Hey, sexy,” a soft, confident, very female voice said from beside me.
“Hi.” Yes, this was exactly what I needed. I lowered the hat—Beau’s hat, which I crazily still wore—but in my head, I already knew it was too late.
“Um…I noticed you from across the room. My friend didn’t believe me, but you’re Ashton Carmichael, aren’t you?”
No, I wanted to say. Because she was standing beside me because of who I was. Most people did. It wasn’t about me, it was about football, but still, I knew this was what I needed. This always worked. When I started to feel these things, it had helped in the past. “I sure am, honey,” I replied.
She smiled. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“You wanna get out of here with me instead?” I asked. It was bold, but I was Ashton Carmichael, and hopefully that would help. Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
I closed my tab, and we were out the door, kissing and stumbling down the sidewalk. When we got to an alley, she tugged my hand, so I followed her down it. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” I asked, ignoring the twist in my gut.
“I can’t believe I’m with you right now. You’re so fucking hot,” the brunette said. “I don’t want to wait, but I can go more than once—here and then wherever we make it next?”
No! I nodded, unable to make words come out. I didn’t need to, though. Her mouth was on me again, and we were kissing, her tongue probing me and mine her. We fell against the wall, my hand going down to her ass. Beau’s comment from the other night flashed in my head, so I slid my hands up her back, twined them in her long hair, which of course reminded me of my fingers in his short, soft strands and the way they’d been sticking up all over the place.