Phil’s POV
Friday evening.
Mom wasn’t home yet when Theo barged into my room, stepping pointedly in front of the game I was playing. I was expecting it. He’d made it clear what his intentions were, set his expectations for me early. Party at Trey’s tonight, he’d said this morning, green eyes burning into me. I’d just muttered whatever and went about my business but now, staring up at him with this big stupid grin on his face, I found myself squinting. “Ready?”
“For what?”
His smile slipped. “Phil stop playing around.”
My palms felt kind of sweaty, honestly. I’d been trying to keep busy so I wouldn’t have to think about going to a party. I’m not a . . . party person? Is that what you’d call them? Goons. Theo calls his friends goons. I’m not . . . that. “
