The Handoff (Big Play #3) by Jordan Ford Read Free Book Online

“Exactly.”
    Michelle takes hers plus the bottle opener. Uncapping it like a pro, she giggles and sucks up the froth that flows from the neck.
    Roxy holds out a bottle to me, but I shake my head. “No, I shouldn’t be drinking again.” I give her a pained look that tells her what I’m thinking. I’m so not after a repeat of the New Year’s Eve party. Although I don’t have any little gold nuggets of information to blab, I could still do something stupid.
    “One drink’s not going to hurt you.” Roxy waggles the bottle. “We made a pinky promise. I’m not going to let you do anything dumb. Trust me.”
    Lacking the energy or willpower for a fight, I snatch the bottle and hold it up so Michelle can uncap it for me. Soon we’re standing in a tight little circle and clinking our beer bottles together.
    “To a night of dancing and hot guys.” Roxy smiles.
    With a reluctant grin, I press the bottle to my lips and take a sip. I guess being here and having some fun is a million times better than hanging out with loved-up couples. At least while I’m here, I can pretend for a few moments that a guy actually cares about me. When his arms are wrapped around my waist and his tongue is doing hot things to my body, it’s easy enough to imagine that I’m making out with The One. You know, the knight in shining armor who’s going to pick me up and carry me off into the sunset, promising to protect me and hold me for the rest of his life?
    My mind flashes with an image of my father and the way he used to carry me around, looking after me, holding me close when I was sad. Even when he was going through chemo and wasting away, he’d still let me sit on his lap. He’d tell me a story or sing me some silly song that would make me laugh.
    I miss him. I miss his strength, his security. I miss the person I was when he was around.
    My eyes smart and I counter the burning sting with another swig of beer. I don’t want those memories; they hurt too much. I just need to forget…to play pretend…and to trust that Roxy will keep an eye on me and stop me from doing anything I might regret in the morning.
     
    *****
     
    I groan and roll over, nearly slipping off the mattress and landing on the floor. My bedding makes a weird rustling sound. What?
    Popping my eyes open, I quickly figure out that I’m actually on a mattress on the floor, in Roxy’s bright pink sleeping bag. The sunlight feels like glass scraping at my eyeballs. I wince and roll away from the window, tucking the pillow under my head and hoping sleep will drag me back to dreamland. Or maybe not. As I close my eyes, a chilling sensation whistles through my body. Murky images of wandering hands, pinching fingers, and hot lips make me sit up with a jerk.
    I pat my chest, assuring myself I’m not naked. I’m in Roxy’s bedroom, wearing my dad’s old football shirt and just having an innocent little sleepover. Right?
    Clutching my pounding head, I let out another groan. My tongue feels thick and pasty. With shaky hands, I snatch the water bottle off the floor and chug back half of it. Wiping the drip from my bottom lip, I wince and look across the room. Roxy is stirring in her bed. I can tell by the way the covers are moving.
    Michelle’s sleeping on an air mattress near the window. She looks dead to the world and will probably stay that way until the early afternoon. That girl knows how to sleep away a Sunday.
    With a sleepy little moan, Roxy rolls over and spots me watching her.
    “Morning,” she croaks.
    “You told me you wouldn’t let me do anything stupid,” I croak back.
    We sound like a couple of bullfrogs.
    I rub my raspy throat then shudder, this weird sensation I can’t explain still crawling all over my skin.
    Roxy yawns, covering her mouth, then looks at me. There’s a guilty little glint in her gaze that is setting off freaking fire alarms in my head.
    “What?” I snap, accentuating the T.
    Roxy’s nose scrunches and she sits up with a sigh.