She wasn’t lying.
Chance McQueen was gorgeous in the only way guys with blonde hair and blue eyes could be. He was tall, strong, athletic, charming, and just good-goddamn-looking. He was Hollywood good-looking. He was All-American good-looking. And there have been plenty of times I’ve passed the guy when he was fresh from football practice, dirty and sweaty, and I’d tripped on my own two feet, staring at him.
“I just...well, you’ve never mentioned liking him or anything,” I added lamely.
“The guy’s hot, but I’m not one to chase dick, Missy,” she replied. “But now that he’s asked me to prom, well…” She trailed off, leaving all the implications of her sentence hanging between us.
I put on my best smile. “Well, I think you guys will make a great...team. Date. Couple,” I stammered.
Her grin was back in full force. “I know, right?”
I wanted to be happy for her. I really did. By all accounts, Chance was a good guy and, objectively, they would make a great couple. But with Chance came along Gage Evans, and therein laid the problem. Where Chance was a good guy, Gage Evans wasn’t.
Gage Evans was everything I should avoid.
Gage Evans was not a good guy.
Chapter 2
Gage~
Normally, I didn’t care who Chance fucked, but him asking Margot Cross to prom was a blindside I hadn’t seen coming.
Sure, over the years, he’s mentioned how hot she was and that he wouldn’t mind getting his dick wet with her, but I never thought he’d actually ask her to prom. Chance didn’t do relationships. He dated girls, but it was casual dating, and everyone knew the score. He’s never asked a girl to prom, the winter formal, or even a goddamn movie. Chancehung outwith girls, and if he was lucky-which the bastard was-he got laid more often than not. So, when he told me he had asked Margot Cross to prom, I had been surprised.
Then pissed.
While Chance was my best friend, I had a whole world of secrets he knew nothing about, and him dating Margot Cross threatened those secrets.
My family belonged to the ‘right’ side of Cranston, California. My father was a medical doctor and my mother was a family psychiatrist. We lived in a two-story modern home, complete with all that the new-age automation crap, and it was important that I lived up to the image that was expected of me. And because of that expectation, I guarded my secrets fiercely.
We were in the locker room, ready to hit the football field, when Chance had made his little announcement about asking Margot Cross to prom. Our lockers were next to one another, so it was easy to have semi-private conversations in here without having to shout across the room and noise.
I pulled my shirt up over my head and looked over at him. “Why?”
Chance threw me a smirk as he started unbuttoning his pants. “Don’t be like that, G,” he chuckled. “Margot Cross is hot as fuck, dude, and you know it.”
Margot Crosswasa hot piece of ass, there was no denying it. And, by all accounts, she was a good person, too. She was popular and kind to everyone. I didn’t hang out with her or talk to her, but there were plenty of rumors going around that she had given it up to her ex-boyfriend, Timothy Carr, last year, but then quickly dumped him after she’d found out she hadn’t been the only one he had been getting pussy from. Timothy, in turn, did what all insecure assholes did; he started spreading rumors about her. Unfortunately for him, he underestimated just how much people liked Margot, so his bullshit never stuck. And now it was like he never existed.
“I’m not saying she isn’t,” I replied as I started removing my jeans. “I’m just surprised.” I shucked my jeans. “You’ve never mentioned liking her before. And since when do you ask girls to prom?”
He pulled on his undershirt, and then looked over at me. “I’m not looking to marry her, G. It’s just fucking prom.”
My brows shot up. The defensiveness was new, too. Chance was usually super laid back. “Hey, man, no need to get pissy about it. I was just wondering what changed.” If shit were just casual and Chance just wanted to fuck her, I could work with that. But if he really liked her, that might change things and, if so, I needed to know.
The drop in my gut was instant when he said, “I like her, okay.”Fuck.“I never made a play because she was dating that asshole for all that time, and then, when she dumped him...I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to give her time to move on from him. Girls are funny about their first.”
I made sure to keep my face impassive at his comment about girls being funny about their first. He had a point, though. Whether good or bad, girls will always remember the guy they gave their virginity to, and it didn’t necessarily have anything to do with the guy himself. They’ll remember their first time because it’s their first goddamn time. Just like most guys remember the first time they ever sank their dick inside a warm, wet pussy, most girls will remember the first time they were torn apart. Eve really fucked the game up for women everywhere when she ate that goddamn apple.
We finished gearing up in silence, but when we were about to head out onto the field, I asked, “But why start something now, Chance? We graduate in six months. What happens if you end up really liking this girl?”
Chance shrugged his shoulder. “I haven’t gotten that far,” he admitted. “If it works out, maybe we make it clear that this thing has an expiration date. I dunno.”
And expiration date.
I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. Arrangements and agreements sounded all good and well while you were making them, but emotions didn’t have expiration dates. Love, hate, heartbreak...you didn’t stop feeling those emotions just because you abided by the agreed upon deadline.
“Well, good luck with that,” I replied, trying my best to sound supportive. “She’s a cool girl.” The words sounded lame even to my ears, but this shit was fucking with me.
