Twenty-Seven
Phoenix
If there was a photo beside the word regret in the dictionary, it would be of me right now; sitting on the couch in the townhouse, watching the stupid Super Bowl, all while two idiots constantly banter back and forth for the entire game.
A game well into the third quarter at this point, and I don’t think they’ve stopped for more than five minutes.
“E-Trade always has the best commercials.”
Luca looks over at Noah like he’s just lost his marbles. “You’re off your rocker, man. It’s always Budweiser. Hands fuckin’ down.”
A snort leaves Noah, and he shakes his head. “Yeah, if you like to cry, maybe.”
“It’s called ethos, Noah. Not that you’d understand what it even means, seeing as you’re a sociopath allergic to all human emotion.”
“Aw, you noticed. How sweet of you,” Noah snarks back before tossing a chip at Luca’s face.
I think I’m about to lose my fucking marbles if I have to listen to this any longer.
“Oh, my God, do they ever shut up?” I mutter to Theo, who is sitting beside me on the couch.
He lets out a scoff. “I’d have thought you would know they don’t after spending ten days with them in Florida.”
Touché, my friend.
“Wishful thinking, I guess,” I say with a sigh.
I’ll admit the game itself has been somewhat entertaining up to this point, despite those two bickering like an old married couple. Nashville and New England have been going back and forth with the lead, and the wide receiver named Grady caught a bomb in the endzone to put them ahead by two points.
But the half-time show was abysmal at best, which I shouldn’t be surprised about. I think the only way I’d ever be hyped is if they put some sort of metalcore band on stage—or even alternative or punk, like Fall Out Boy.
My phone vibrates in my palm, pulling my attention away from the two idiots still snapping at each other to check the incoming text. And I can’t help the smirk curling my lips when I read it.
H: Aren’t you happy I convinced you to come? This is fun.
Convince?
He must be trying to rewrite history because, from my view, it was more like kidnapping me from my apartment after blackmailing me with threats of a sex-ban if I didn’t come with him.
P: Yeah…not in the slightest. Noah and Luca are driving me to the brink of insanity. I could be at home watching porn instead. All alone. In peaceful silence.
H: That does sound enticing, but football is sexier than porn, and you know it.
Instinctually, my eyes flick over to where Holden sits at the other end of the sectional. He must feel my gaze on him, because his focus slowly shifts my way.
H: Look at me like that again, and I’m gonna need to borrow the pillow beside you.
P: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
H: Mhmm. Sure, you don’t.
H: Oh, and for the record, baseball players are hot too.
The smirk lifting my lips can’t be helped as I send him a text back.
P: If that’s the case, maybe you should attend a game or two this season.
H: I don’t know if they’re THAT hot. I mean, nine whole innings and no one hits each other?
P: All they do in hockey is hit each other, but I don’t see you heading to the rink anytime soon. Not even for your best friend.
I glance up and wait for Holden to read the text, only to arch a brow at him when he looks up at me. His smile is instant, and I watch him type out his response.
H: You make a fair point, Nix. Care to make a deal with the devil?
P: Tempting. What are the stakes?
H: A trade. I’ll come to watch you play as long as you’re in MY jersey next season.
P: Awfully possessive of you. But I think those are agreeable terms.
I watch as Holden starts typing out his response, only to be distracted by Nashville rushing up the middle, the running back somehow sneaking through before barreling down the open field.
The townhouse front door opens as the player sprints toward the end zone, but almost everyone here is too engrossed by the scene on the television to notice what’s happening in real life.
Not me, though. I’m thoroughly aware of who just walked through the door, and it has both my heart and stomach-dropping clear out of my ass.
“Kason, no!” Noah shouts, jumping to his feet before looking at my best friend in the doorway. “You need to turn around and leave, right now.”
Kason’s eyes widen as he slowly takes a step back. “Why?”
“Because Nashville just scored again on that rush,” Luca pipes in with a sigh. “And he seems to think Mercer, and now you, are putting bad juju on New England by being here.”
Confusion is written in Kason’s expression as he scans the room, only to get all the more confused when his eyes land on me. Anxiety wracks my nervous system, and I give him an awkward wave before pulling out my phone and texting Holden.
P: I thought you said he wasn’t coming?
H: He said he wasn’t! Can’t fault me for him changing his mind.
Not helpful, Holden.
I’m not so irrational to realize this isn’t his fault. He was telling the truth with the information he had at the time, and there was no way he could predict Kason changing his mind and showing up with only a quarter left in the game. But it doesn’t make the reality of it suck any less.
My phone buzzes in my palm when another text from Holden pops up on the screen.
H: You’re so tense, you’re giving me anxiety from all the way over there. Just relax. He’s not gonna know you’re here with me.
I glance up to where Holden is seated, only to find his eyes already locked on me. His brow gives a subtle arch, as if begging me to disagree with him, and I return it with a dubious you’re joking me look.
Blowing out a silent breath, I send him my reply.
P: He will if you keep watching me.
My phone buzzes in my palm again almost instantly, and I’m fully prepared for it to be Holden’s name on the screen. Only, it’s not him.
Theo: Does he know?
My eyes shift to my teammate sitting directly beside me, who quickly glances at me before looking back down at his phone.
Theo: Don’t act like you didn’t just enter full-blown panic mode when Kason walked through the door, Merce. I can read you better than that.
Me: Are you also reading my texts over my shoulder?
Theo: Oh, please. I don’t need to. You and Holden are as subtle as a hippo in a pet store. And you forget I share a floor with him in this house. It’s not hard to put the pieces together.
I blink a few times, wondering where the hell he’d ever heard that kind of saying before. But seeing as it’s not the important topic of discussion, I circle back to his question.
Me: No. He doesn’t, and we’re trying to keep it that way.
Theo: Keeping it a secret is only going to blow up in your face…
Me: I don’t know how to tell him. Not now.
I catch the subtle shake of his head beside me before his next text comes through.
Theo: I hope you know what you’re doing.
My gaze lifts to find Kason and Holden chatting over in the corner. Even from here, I can see a small mixture of sadness and longing in his eyes as he watches Holden speak, and it’s enough to have me slamming the rest of my drink on the spot.
Rising from the couch, I head into the kitchen for another.
The beer is pretty much the only thing getting me through this shit in the first place, and with Kason here now, the alcohol is really fucking needed.
I pop the cap off the bottle and take a long swig, but the icy liquid does nothing to temper the rush of anxiety running through me faster than a receiver toward the end zone.
An arm reaches under mine to grab the bottle opener I was just using, and I’m about to move out of the way when the scent of Holden’s cologne wafts over me.
“Excuse me, but I need this,” he says in a soft, seductive cadence that goes straight to my dick.
“Of course you do,” I say, feigning annoyance despite the smile I’m desperately trying to hide. One he must pick up on in my voice, because he steps in closer to me, his chest brushing against the back of my shoulder.
“You’re playing a dangerous game here,” I murmur, keeping my eyes locked straight ahead.
The hand that’s hidden from view of the living room traces a feather-light trail down my spine, and I fight my urge to lean into his touch.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”
I laugh softly and shake my head before stepping out of his grip. The last thing we need is to get too into our little game of back and forth with half the football team here—Kason included.
Too bad for me Holden has no intentions of letting me slip away easily.
His palm wraps around my wrist, and he drags me down the hall toward the back door, just out of sight from the rest of the group.
He wastes no time backing me against the door either before his lips begin a slow, seductive descent down my throat.
“You’re just asking for us to get caught right now,” I murmur, even as I arch my neck toward him. “Is that what you want?”
“Stop being so tempting and I wouldn’t have to risk it.”
“Have some self-control, and it wouldn’t matter how tempting I am,” I counter.
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.” He pulls back, his brow lifting playfully. “But in case you need a reminder—”
“I’m good,” I say with a laugh. Lord knows I don’t need him doing something even more obscene—like dropping to his knees—here, where anyone could find us so he can prove his point.
“Thought so.”
He leans his forehead against mine, and I can’t help breathing him in. The scent of his cologne mixed with whatever body wash still lingers on his skin is just as potent as his presence. Intoxicating, which is why I understand what he means about being tempted.
But what just about brings me to my knees is when his nose brushes back and forth against mine in a way that simultaneously makes my stomach swirl with lust and my heart constrict with emotion.