WITHOUT YOU (STRIPPED) by Brooklyn Skye Read Free Book Online

“Glaze, you motherfucker, you better not puke in my flower pot this time or I will come and personally piss on your pillow tonight.”
    I look over at Andrew and he shrugs at me. “Don’t feed me Jager Bombs then hump my leg and I think we’ll be good.”
    “It was wrestling, not humping, asswipe.”
    Andrew flings his arms out to the sides, a wide smile on his face. “Potato pot- a -to.”
    Dabbs points to the front yard, a bulk of bodies dotted along the grass and an assortment of ice chests in the middle. “Beer’s in there. Help yourself. Oh, and no one’s allowed inside so piss in the bushes.” Dabbs sits on the porch steps of the two-story house his parents purchased for him just out of high school. According to him, it was a deal they’d made with him when he was sixteen: make it through high school without drinking or drugs and they’d buy him a house. He’d adhered to those provisions, technically, and spent his high school years ingesting full bottles of cough syrup to get high instead of beer or weed. The guy’s a total douche. But he knows how to throw a decent party.
    Andrew and I both grab beers and head to the fire pit on the driveway where a few guys from the team let out hoots when they spot us. “Glaze,” Brady says, throwing back his shoulders to puff out his chest, “what kind of magic did you pull to get him out tonight?”
    “I’m right here, dick.” Faster than he can blink, I slam the ass end of my bottle over the top of his. “Bottom’s up,” I say as yellow, foamy beer spills out like lava from a volcano. The guys laugh as Brady’s “oh shit” is muffled with the sounds of him slurping.
    Maybe I can relax tonight. Even have a little fun.
    A few beers later, Dabbs joins our circle, handing me yet another ice-cold bottle. Blurry-eyed, I glance to Andrew. “You sure you’re driving?”
    He holds up his half-empty bottle and jiggles it. “Still sipping. Go ahead. It’s not often we get to watch our captain get piss drunk.”
    “Captain?” Dabbs asks, wrapping his thin lips around the top of a beer bottle. He guzzles a long sip. “So admin finally let you back on the team?”
    I nod. “They lifted the suspension after the last press conference with my dad. Apparently coming clean in front of a shitload of news cameras was all Pacific Rim wanted.” I look away, hoping the lie doesn’t show on my face. That day down at the harbor, when I’d discovered Quinn would have to leave Loyola and move back with her parents, I convinced my dad that clearing the Montgomery name—even if it meant muddying our own—was what we needed to do. I’d told the news reporters that giving me college credit for the classes I hadn’t taken was my idea, a trade of sorts for the massive amount of hours I had to spend to get his school’s crew in shape to take gold at this year’s nationals. We insisted William Montgomery be reinstated as dean and all class credit I’d received from Pacific Rim, even for the classes I’d actually taken, be removed from my record.
    Admin didn’t reinstate her dad, though they did offer him a teaching job. They didn’t retract my credits, either, which I guess I’m glad about. Now instead of being an entire year behind, I’m only one quarter’s worth for the few months I spent drilling crew instead of studying.
    Quinn was pissed that I’d lied about my involvement in the scandal, that I’d taken the blame for what her father did. But keeping Quinn close to me was why I did it. Guess that lasted all of a month.
    “So how come you haven’t been around lately?” Dabbs interrupts my thoughts. “You got a girl?”
    I roll the bottle between my hands. “Um…yeah, sort of.” Only she’s not speaking to me at the moment.
    “Sort of… I have a sort of , too.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket, retrieves one, and lights it. Smoke billows into the night sky. “Amber the check-out girl at Smarties? She comes over when she’s