Play With Me (3 page)

Since Barbie
jumped with her friend at that name, I figured now I knew her last name.

“—Smith.
Jackson. Daniels. Hollister. McNeal. Miller. Matthews. And Warren.”

My jaw hit the
dirt. I pivoted to Tony. “Did he just say Matthews?”

“Guess he did.” His
silly grin made me want to slap some seriousness into his face.

“I’m going to
play?”

“Yes,” he
chuckled. “Now get your things, I owe you a sundae.”

I really made
it,
and
he owed me ice cream. What a freaking fantastic day. I jogged to
the bench and slung my backpack over one shoulder. Certainly, I had the most
stupid grin in the world pasted on my lips. It slipped as the word
owe
got stuck on repeat in my mind. What if he had asked Ryan to let me onto the
team even if I was a miserable player? At the thought of depending on Hunter’s
mercy, I felt awfully embarrassed.

I had to know,
and Tony would spill—even if it meant I had to threaten to burn his
Back to
the Future
collection.

Whipping around,
I bumped into Ryan.

“Congrats,
Matthews,” he cheered. “You handled the tryout quite well.”

“Yeah,
whatever.” Pissed at something I hadn’t yet proof of, I shoved past him but
then stopped. “What does Tony owe you for putting me on the team?”

For a moment, he
looked confused. Then he laughed out loud. “You don’t want to know.”

My hands fisted
around the strap of my backpack. Hell, of course, I wanted to know.

Turning to
leave, he glanced at me over his shoulder. His eyes sparked with a glint of
mischief. “See you at my house, Matthews.”

Holy shit.
Did he just invite me to his party?

CHAPTER

3

THE SUNDAE WAS
yummy, but so was Tony as he licked vanilla ice-cream off his spoon. I couldn’t
take my eyes off his lips the entire hour we sat at Charlie’s. Unfortunately,
the boy was like a fortress. Bolted down. He refused to tell me what he had to
give Ryan for letting me play in the team. Well, he said he didn’t owe Hunter
anything, but I didn’t buy it.

At eight thirty
that evening, Tony picked me up at my door and drove us to Ryan’s house in his
mother’s car. I had no idea what people wore to those parties, but since it was
still over ninety degrees in the evening—not unusual for North California in
August—I chose a dark gray tank top and black hot pants. Judging by the smirk I
earned from Tony, I supposed I had settled on the right clothes.

As we entered
the lane with Hunter’s mansion, a long queue of cars told me just how big this
party was. Tony appeared unimpressed and maneuvered into a spot at the corner,
but I had a hard time closing my mouth. “How many guests is he expecting?”

“Can’t say.
Usually, there are one hundred to hundred and fifty. If his parents are gone,
the number might as well get up to three hundred.”

Heck, I didn’t
even know that many people if I counted all my friends, family, and their pets
together. We walked up the drive then climbed the marble steps to the door with
the bowed top. The music blasted through the wood so we figured we didn’t need
to ring. Tony jiggled the handle, and it opened easily.

Jean Paul’s
She
doesn’t mind
was blaring from the many speakers as we entered. Bodies bumped
and ground against each other in salacious moves I only knew from films. Several
boys shouted a conversation over the noise and drank beer from bottles while
groping the butts of the girls with them. Some people kissed in the dim light.

I clung to
Tony’s comforting biceps. “Oh my God, don’t leave me alone in this place.”

He laughed, or
so I thought when his ribcage shook slightly, because I couldn’t really hear
him. But his arm pressed my hands tighter to his body as he pulled me into the mass
of people. Not all of them were kids. It seemed Hunter had a lot of older
friends, too, ranging from sixteen to about twenty-five.

A small group of
girls from my History class gathered in the middle of the room. Simone Simpkins
grabbed my arm when we passed them. I had to lip-read to understand that she
wanted me to join them.

“I’ll get you
something to drink,” Tony shouted in my ear.

I nodded and
watched him walk away with a weird quiver in my stomach. What if he never found
his way back to me in this blasted place? The distance he put between us was
quickly filled with throngs of strangers. Shit, I shouldn’t have let him go.

Turning back to my
friends, I tried to join in the conversation, but mostly I just stood there and
nodded, pretending to understand what they said. Simone handed me a bottle of Corona
when Tony hadn’t come back after ten minutes. Parched by the heat in the room,
anything cool was welcome. I wet my lips with the beer then licked it off.
Okay, this stuff wasn’t half bad. I took a real sip. A little acerbic, but
quite palatable. I had downed half of the bottle when my head started to feel dizzy.

Across the room
I thought I’d spotted Tony. I waved goodbye at my friends and headed off toward
the back. The crowd thinned a little there, and I could actually move without
rubbing against other people’s sweat. But Tony was nowhere in sight.

A high arch in
the wall connected this room to the kitchen. I headed there and found Ryan
standing in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the wall. The sleeves of
his black shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and the jeans he wore were ripped
at the hems. Black was a color I loathed on Tony. It made him look way too
demonic. With Ryan it was different. The top buttons undone, he looked
mysterious. Kind of sexy. Him looking like the devil was cool.

His gaze
flickered my way then stayed as he sipped his beer, watching as I drew closer.

It would have
been plain impolite not to say hello to the host, so I stopped before him and
lifted my hand in greeting. The music wasn’t as loud back here, and I actually
caught his
hi
.

“You have a nice
place. So full of…people,” I said, feeling awkward and a little stupid for not
knowing how to start a cool conversation.

“Yeah, thanks.”
He moved away from the wall and leaned closer to me so I could hear him. “It
was about time Mitchell brought you here. He kept you away from this place long
enough.”

Huh? I frowned.
Tony
was the reason why I hadn’t been invited to any of Ryan’s parties yet? That bloody
wretch. But then he probably figured I wouldn’t feel comfortable among this
drinking lot and with all the noise. I, idiot, proved his point the second we
came here by clinging to his arm like a frightened cat.

“Do you know
where he is?” I said into Ryan’s ear, thankful that I didn’t need to shout and damage
my vocal cords even more.

“Nope.” He took
another draught from his beer.

Sighing, I
sipped mine too, not liking it much any longer. I grimaced. Ryan suddenly took
me by the wrist and pulled me into the kitchen. He placed his beer down on a
counter, popped a can of soda, then lifted the bottle out of my palm and replaced
it with the Sprite, closing my fingers around it.

“You shouldn’t
drink beer,” he said in a stern tone. “Especially not in this place.”

Yeah, I didn’t
want to end up someone’s groping puppet, like most of the other drunken girls. Thankful
for the Sprite, I washed away the bitter aftertaste of the Corona in my mouth.

“You did really
well today.” A smile slipped to his lips.

“I was lousy.
And you know it. I still don’t get why you chose me to play in your team.”

Shrugging, he
drank from my discarded bottle. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want you there.”

Jeez, the
teasing in his voice made the hair on my arms stand on end.

“Do a little
endurance training every day, and you’ll be a capable player.”

I screwed up at
athletics. I even tried jogging a few mornings at the beginning of this summer
to get in a better shape, but it didn’t work for me. Half a mile was the most I
could manage before trudging back home, panting and frustrated. “I guess I’m
lacking motivation to do that. I’m like a lame duck at running.”

“What you need
is a personal trainer.”

That made me
laugh. “You want the job?”

Ryan pursed his
lips and studied me for a moment as though I had just offered him good money
for stinking work. He shrugged. “Sure, why not? If you promise to show some
enthusiasm, I promise to be there.”

That sounded
like an interesting offer. After all, I had to work on my endurance if I wanted
to last during an entire soccer game. I certainly didn’t want to give Blondie
any more ammunition to use against me, especially if I broke down after the
first half. Her satisfaction would ruin me. And Tony needed to see I was fit
for more than just watching Spielberg with him.

Yeah.
Training, it is.

Strangely
enough, the thought of having Hunter coaching me sent a shiver of anticipation
through me. He was the captain of the soccer team. It felt like an honor to
personally train with him, and it sure would lift my status at school from
average to super cool.

“Okay, deal.”

He gave a slow
nod. “We’ll start Monday morning.”

Great. That
meant suicide was delayed one more day. His gaze locking with mine promised I
wouldn’t entirely regret my decision.

Someone shouted
his name behind me. “We’re starting a game of pool. Are you in?”

Ryan pushed away
from the counter. “There in a sec.” Then he ran the cool mouth of his bottle
along my cheek. “Enjoy the night. And whatever you do, stay away from the
strawberries.”

Dumbstruck, I
stood rooted to the spot as he brushed past me and walked away, chuckling.

I swallowed a
huge draught of Sprite to cool down. Susan Miller came in at that moment. Her
face lit up when her gaze fell on me. She rushed over. “Hey, what do you say?
Now we’re both on the team. And honestly—” She paused, and her eyes darted left
then right to make sure we were alone in the room. Her voice dropped a notch, too.
“I’ve never seen a prettier house than this. I wanted to come to Hunter’s
parties for ages, but he never noticed me in school. I think he didn’t even
know my name until I told him at the tryouts.”

“Yeah, me too.”
Or so I thought until I found out he actually knew my name yesterday.

“Will you wear
your sports clothes for the training or get a real soccer dress?” Susan seemed
so excited, I couldn’t understand her enthusiasm. Which girl would voluntarily
play soccer? Well, if there wasn’t a guy on the team she wanted to recognize
her anyway.

I shrugged. “No
idea. Think I’ll start with what I have. Just shorts and a tee. Anything else
is too expensive to buy with my pocket money.” And no way would I wear those
horrible shoes with spikes on their soles. But the outfit was nothing that
really concerned me. “Listen, did you see Tony anywhere this evening?”

“Not after you
came in with him earlier. Why?”

“Haven’t seen
him much. I just wonder where he is.” I threw my empty soda can in the trash
and pulled an apologetic face. “Mind if I go looking for him?”

Susan was cool.
“Do that. I’ll find you later.”

I went back into
the hall and wandered around the ground floor, hoping to find Tony somewhere.
But the shoving and bumping of sweat drenched people soon got on my nerves, and
I kept closer to the walls instead. When I reached an arch leading to another
room, I peeked inside. No blond caught my eye. My shoulders slumped with
disappointment. But then a few guys shifted to the side, and I spotted a pool
table and someone leaning over it in an eye-catching way.

By now I was
pretty good at recognizing Hunter’s black hair.

He held the cue
low over the green felt, aiming the tip at the white ball. Some colored balls
fanned out on the table too, but as it looked he went for the black eight.

“Come on, Ryan,
give a friend a chance. You can’t hole the ball just yet.”

I pivoted to the
left to see who was pleading with Hunter. I didn’t know the tall boy’s name,
but he had Algebra with Tony. The look on his face was hilarious. One would
think his life depended on Ryan’s hit or fail.

“What’s your
problem, Justin?” Still working on positioning the cue perfectly, Hunter
grinned. “Afraid, your Mama’s going to find out you’re playing for money?”

Just then I
noticed the stack of dollar bills at the edge of the table. They seemed to have
a sum of about one hundred bucks in the pot. My jaw dropped. Fifty from each? I
didn’t get half as much pocket money in one month.

“My Mama doesn’t
give a damn. But I
really, really
need
this Spiderman comic. It’s
an original,” Justin whined.

I felt really
bad for him. Intrigued how the game would end, I moved around the edge of the
wall and stood face to face with Hunter across the room. Narrowed eyes and
knitted brows gave away his tension. The cue moved backward just a couple of
inches. He’d shoot any moment.