Chapter 13
13
TUCK
T his is our bye week. With a hockey-free weekend, the guys and I decided to take advantage of it by hitting up Starlite on Friday night, the hottest new club in Cedar Shade. Not that it has a ton of competition in the small college town.
It just opened last semester, taking over and renovating an old warehouse. It’s got a hip, upscale vibe, and it’s the kind of place that girls go all out for. This place is a sea of girls in tight dresses, wearing makeup that must’ve taken hours to apply. It’s like a Paris fashion show in here.
The rest of the guys on the team—other than Hudson, of course, who’s very happily spoken for—are taking advantage of it, mingling with gorgeous girls dressed to the nines.
That’s what I should be doing, too.
But it’s the same sad story for me. When I sweep my gaze over the room of dolled-up knockouts, not a single one of them stirs any desire in me.
I swear, I’m feeling so little below the belt in front of such beautiful women, that I’d worry I’ve got a medical condition—if not for the fact that just days ago, when I saw Olivia, my cock was hard as steel, throbbing in rhythm to my heartbeat when I was doing no more than sitting next to her in our tutoring room.
Suddenly, as I’m sipping on an outrageously overpriced cocktail and letting my gaze wander across the room, I feel a twitch of life below my waist.
Because I spot Olivia.
When I do, the sight hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. She’s fucking stunning .
Her hair is tied in a tight knot, glistening under the soft lights. Her lips are bright red, her lashes long and dark. I don’t know if it’s the lighting, or some kind of makeup she has on, but her freckles stand out more than usual.
She’s breathtaking. Literally. I realize it’s been a couple beats since I’ve inhaled, and when I do, I feel a hitch in my chest.
My dick wants to rip out of my pants when she takes a step forward, and I catch of glimpse of what she’s wearing through the crowded dancefloor.
Her dark blue dress is plastered to her body. Strapless, tight, with the hem ending just above her mid-thigh. The swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips are highlighted to perfection.
As she walks to the bar, laughing about something with Summer and a couple of their other friends, I notice two guys close to them turn and feast their eyes on her.
My jaw muscles pop, teeth grinding as my grip curls tight around my glass.
I can’t expect guys not to look at Olivia with lust in their eyes when she’s dressed like that, but that doesn’t mean I have to fucking like it. Because I don’t.
I try to calm my irritation by lifting my glass and draining the rest of the drink. It might be expensive as hell, but at least it’s strong. A stiff drink is what I need if I’m going to spend the next couple hours in this place knowing Olivia’s here, dressed like that .
Hudson’s next to me, talking about something with Sebastian, but I notice him suddenly trail off mid-speech, leaving his words hanging in the middle of an unfinished sentence. I glance to my side and see his eyes riveted to Summer.
His jaw hangs slack, his eyes hazy with a drugged look. Our grumpy goalie is so smitten it isn’t even funny.
Okay, actually it is.
Summer turns around from the bar with a drink in her hand, and their gazes lock from across the room. The expression on Summer’s face changes, the amused grin she had from her conversation with her friends turning into a dreamier smile, an intoxicated look lacing into her eyes even though she hasn’t yet taken a sip of her drink.
Hudson sets his drink down and marches over to her.
“Who would’ve guessed Hudson would become the biggest lovebird out of all of us?” Sebastian says, a chuckle in his voice. He’s not feeling at all spurned by Hudson walking away from their conversation the second he saw Summer. He knows, like we all do, that Hudson’s so in love that it’s like he’s under a spell.
A twang of envy pulses in my chest when Hudson steps to Summer, grabs her firmly by the waist, and pulls her close to him and into a kiss.
My gaze flits to the left, to Olivia, and when it lands on her, she’s looking at me, too.
My blood thickens. Her long lashes and the dark outline around her eyes make her green irises pop with even more luminosity than usual. My breath catches in my chest as the rest of the room becomes hazy except for her.
“Definitely Tuck.” Hearing my name pulls me out of the daze. I break eye contact with Olivia to turn to the side, where Carter’s looking at me.
“Huh?” I question.
“We’re talking about who’s gonna be the last of us to settle down,” Sebastian says.
Lane nods. “Tuck. For sure.”
I narrow my eyes, feeling a strange prickling of annoyance on the back of my neck. “What makes you say that?”
There’s a defensive edge to my voice. Which is weird, because if you asked me four or five months ago who among the Black Bears would be the last to settle down, I’d have said myself, too.
Shit, I’d probably have insisted it.
But when my gaze slices to Olivia again, who’s now talking with her other friends and Summer, who Hudson has his arm slung possessively over, there’s an unpleasant, regretful burbling in my stomach.
Maybe it’s exactly that reputation that explains why Olivia won’t give me the time of day.
“Maybe the fact that you’ve literally said you never want to settle down,” Lane answers my question.
I guess he’s got a point there. I chew on my inner cheek, having no response.
For some reason, this bothers me. The idea that everyone thinks I’m just naturally averse to settling down, to having a real relationship.
Yeah, my own actions and statements have earned me that reputation. It’s something I’ve been conscious of and never bothered by before. But now there’s a knot in my stomach as I ponder it.
I could be a relationship guy, damn it. I want?—
I make a sharp turn mentally away from finishing that thought, like a car veering suddenly off course when a deer jumps on the road and into its path.
Is that what I want? I’ve never wanted it before. I’ve never thought about it before. But …
My gaze alights on Olivia again. She’s turned towards one of her friends, and I’m afforded a view of her profile: the soft outline of her chin, the gentle swell of her breasts, the creamy smoothness of her bare arm …
When I first met Olivia, when Summer took her out to the bar to celebrate with the team after a victory, what I wanted from her wasn’t complicated. I can’t deny it. It was lust at first sight.
But over time I became infatuated with more than her looks. I started to like her attitude, her wit, the way she challenges me. When I first saw her on stage, I was blown away by her talent.
She’s interested in things I’m not, like those artsy movies; some might think that two people having different interests makes them less compatible, but for me it just makes Olivia more intriguing.
There’s just something I feel when I’m with her that I’ve never felt with anyone else.
Yeah, what I wanted from Olivia was simple at first. But the tension I’m feeling from this conversation tells me that, somewhere along the way, what I want from her became a lot less simple.
That’s obvious from the fantasies I have about her.
Don’t get me wrong, I still fantasize about getting her alone in my bedroom. The things I’d do to her body. The noises she’d make for me. Shit, I fantasize about it multiple times a day. But …
I think about other things, too. I think about having more days with her like that one where we drove around Cedar Shade looking for Pretzel M&M’s.
I fantasize about things as mundane as going to a coffee shop with her and sitting at a table doing our schoolwork, silently but together.
Things like spending a rainy night with her on the couch, bored to tears as she makes me watch one of her long, boring artsy movies—but still enjoying it, because I’m doing it with her.
Things like us trying to cook dinner together, me making a fool of myself because I’m totally hopeless in the kitchen, and us both laughing as we find the end result is so bad that we have to order delivery.
Things like me sneaking up behind her on campus as she leaves her class, surprising her with a present I bought her just because I can.
I realize I’ve got a goofy smile plastered to my face just thinking about these things. Man, I’m beyond down bad.
Down bad for a girl who herself has no interest in doing any of these things with me …
At least, that’s sure as hell what she wants me to think.
I know I’m cocky to the point of overconfidence. But I don’t think I’m imagining the cracks I’ve noticed forming in Olivia’s I Hate Tuck McCoy fa?ade.
It hits me that I’ve been lost in this daydream for some time. When my gaze searches out Olivia again, she’s not where she was. My eyes bounce around the room until I finally find her—talking to some guy.
My ab muscles tighten. An acidic feeling rolls through my chest, rising up my throat and filling my mouth with a bitter taste.
That fucker’s standing way too close to her, using the loud music as an excuse to lean close to her ear.
I bet his nostrils are filled with the same strawberry and vanilla scent from her hair that I’ve grown to savor while sitting next to her during our tutoring sessions. The thought makes a downright irrational jolt of jealousy surge through me.
My gaze locks on her face, and I feel a measure of relief when I don’t notice any interest in her expression. In fact, she looks like she’s trying to disengage.
But the asshole talking to her clearly isn’t getting the hint.
When she says something to him and steps away, he steps right along with her, bending down again—way too fucking close for my liking—and saying something else into her ear. That’s when I notice Olivia roll her eyes.
A protective instinct pulses in my chest. I push into the crowd, heading in their direction. If Olivia needs rescuing from some oaf who can’t take a hint, I’ll be more than happy to assist.
Are my motives for walking over to her entirely altruistic? Maybe not.
But nobody’s perfect. Sure as hell not me.
“There you are, Buttercup,” I say, pasting a big, obnoxious grin on my lips as I step towards the two, angling my body to jut in between her and the guy, making him take a step back.
Olivia’s brows start to pinch together, but when I shoot her a wink, she picks up on the message. “Yes. Hello … dear.”
Her expression twists in pain at having to offer up that pet name for me. My lips can’t help but twitch.
As one song comes to an end on the speakers, another starts. I don’t even recognize it, but I say to Olivia, “Oh! It’s our song. Come on, let’s dance.”
I hold my hand out to her. For a beat, she eyes it questioningly, but then she recognizes it as a rope to pull her out of an interaction she’s even less into.
She drops her hand in mine. Sparks explode all over me as I gently curl my grip around it. Fuck, her hand feels good. Soft, smooth, delicate. Already I feel my cock thickening.
She flashes a tight, mock-apologetic smile at the asshole who was clearly trying to pick her up, and then follows me as I walk backward. We melt into the dense mass of bodies on the dancefloor.
When I pull her close to me, she doesn’t resist. Excitement hums through my blood as I savor the warmth of her pressed against my front.
I curl my arm around her waist and beam a roguish grin. “Our first dance.”