THE HOUSE IS always quiet the morning after a party. Sometimes, we can even hear the birds chirping and see the sunlight finding its way inside. Except today, that sunlight is Summer Preston and she’s out for vengeance. And the chirping birds are the blaring of an alarm that jerks me awake. My pillow doesn’t cushion the ringing coming from downstairs, and when I throw off my comforter to yank open my bedroom door, Kian’s across the hall in his Shrek-themed boxers, with both hands over his ears.
“For the love of God, make it stop!” he cries.
“Are we in hell?” groans Sebastian from the bottom of the steps. “I’m going to throw up,” says Dylan, ducking back into his room.
Suddenly, the noise stops and Summer appears with a bright smile. “Rise and shine!”
When Kian sees her, he pierces me with a glare. “Haven’t you learned not to piss her off?”
“What is this about?”
Her smile is smug. “Since you missed our session yesterday, I rescheduled. We’re going on a hike!”
Sebastian snorts from his place on the floor. He’s still holding his head in his hands when he peeks at her. “Yeah, right, I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk.”
“Kian said you all were at my disposal for this project. Unless that’s changed, and you would rather your captain enjoy probation. I’m going to need you to get dressed.” Grumbles erupt, but Summer turns on the god- forsaken alarm again. “You have five minutes.”
 |
“IF I HAD the energy to throw him off this cliff right now, I would,” mutters a hungover Dylan.
He’s glaring at Kian who chats animatedly with Summer. All the guys are paying for his generous voluntary effort. Eli got lucky because he was MIA this morning, and Cole locked himself in the basement.
Trying not to stare at Summer’s ass this five-mile hike is my own personal brand of torture. She’s wearing tights that outline the perfect curve of her ass and a matching long-sleeve that leaves her midriff exposed. After last night, it’s been hard for me not to think of how close she got to me.
“This is the only reason I’m not on probation,” I say.
Dylan grunts. “Probation would be much preferred over this.”
“Come on guys! I thought you were D1 athletes.” Summer glances over her shoulder.
“There’s a reason we skate on ice, Summer. If I wanted to wear sneakers and walk in the woods, I would be a serial killer,” argues Dylan.
She lets out an amused breath. “It’s not my fault you drank yourself stupid last night.”
For how much Dylan drinks, his hangovers are usually non-existent. The fact that we can see the effects of it today tells me he went overboard. I, on the other hand, only had one drink.
“If I knew you wanted to drag us up a hill, I might have cut down.
Besides, your problem is with Aiden. Why torture us?” “I didn’t do this to torture you.”
“Tell that to my ass,” he groans. His dirt-covered shorts are a result of him tripping over a tree branch. The only one who found that amusing was Kian who took pictures when Dylan fell. “You were at the party, too. Did you drink a gallon of coffee this morning to want to do this?”
“I don’t drink coffee, only tea,” she retorts.
“You like drinking bitter hot water?” chimes Sebastian, who hasn’t spoken the entire hike.
“Chai. With milk and sugar.”
Dylan mumbles something under his breath while I try to figure out how to get Summer alone. I’ve been hoping I can at least talk to her today, but Kian’s been on her like a leech this entire hike. There’s something about her voice that makes me itch to hear it. So, as we climb down after the anticlimactic mountain-top view, the guys walk ahead, and I pull her back.
She comes easily. “I haven’t talked to you all day. I’m thinking this punishment is a bit cruel,” I whisper against her ear.
She shifts to look at me. “Not talking to me is punishment?”
“The worst kind.”
Summer falters, and when I take a try to close the distance between us, she takes one back. The move surprises me, and just to see what she does I take another, sending her even further. “You scared of me, Preston?”
She scoffs. “Yeah, right, you couldn’t scare a baby if you tried.”
Dry leaves crunch under my feet. “Fine,” I say, lowering my voice. “Then I make you nervous.”
She swallows when her eyes level with mine. “Nobody makes me nervous.”
“Yeah?” I take a step closer and her foot hits a branch. She lets out a squeak when she topples, but my hand hooks around her waist. “Careful, Summer, or I might think your nervous.”
As soon as I smell her sweet scent, I hold her tighter. She’s close enough that something is happening to my chest. The sensation is so unsettling that I let her balance on her feet again.
She takes several steps back. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but that won’t work on me.” Summer pivots, stepping on a wedged rock. I know it’s a mistake as soon as she does. Her squeak cuts off when I catch her before she hits the ground.
“Ow, ow, ow.” She grabs her ankle, and her pained expression tells me she sprained something.
“You twisted it,” I say, lifting her into my arms.
“I’m fi—fuck,” she curses. “You don’t have to carry me.” The words barely leave her mouth with how hard she clenches her teeth.
The guys are already a few feet ahead of us. “Is she okay?”
“I’ve got her.” I’m moving fast down the slope. Fast enough that Kilner would kill me for risking an injury. When we’re back on concrete, I spot the medical aid room, and Summer wraps her arms around my neck, closing her eyes in pain.
Inside, it’s run down and dirty. It’s an old place, so I’m surprised they even have a room.
“Do not put me on the dirty counter,” Summer warns. I pivot to grab a handful of paper towels to put under her. She’s watching me as I pull out the first aid kit, then take off her shoe and sock, trying to turn her ankle to see where it hurts.
“Fuck,” she hisses. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
I gentle my touch. “Sorry, just checking how bad it’s twisted.”
She tips her head back and groans. “I haven’t had enough caffeine today, and you’re giving me a headache.”
“I thought you didn’t drink coffee.”
She massages her temples. “Chai. I need like two cups a day, more if I’m dealing with you.”
I ignore the remark and eye her high ponytail. Feeling brave, I pull her hair tie and let her soft brown waves fall around her shoulders. When she tries to snatch the hair tie, I slide it on my wrist. “Maybe you have a headache from your hair being in a death grip.”
“That’s how I like it,” she declares.
I raise my brows, making her roll her eyes. “I like it down.”
She snorts. “Good to know. I’ll throw out all my hair ties because Aiden Crawford likes it when girls wear their hair down.”
Wrapping the bandage around her ankle, I glance at her. “Not girls. You.” Summer’s smugness slips off her face, and the crease between her brows deepens. I know her mind is working overtime, but the comment slipped off
my tongue so quickly I couldn’t stop it.
“Done,” I say coolly, dropping her leg. She immediately hops off, wincing when she lands on her foot. “Lay off of it for a bit.”
She attempts to hop away again, but I block her path. “Not happening.
This is only going to work if you let me help you.
“Fine.” She lets me lift her again, soft hair dusting my arm. “Thanks.”
