Book 4 Bonus
Book Four Bonus
Hmmm. I wonder which season will be next?
( Not playing. I genuinely don’t know.)
Cherry
It’s an odd thing to both cherish and rue the day you met someone.
The guy approaching me now, looking like one of the grassy knoll stoners in the nineties classic, Clueless, is not likely to evoke such a dilemma.
“Hey sweet thang.” He reaches out and rubs the black ruffle of my dress between his fingers. “You new here? Haven’t seen you arou–”
“I have a kid.”
“Have a good night.” And with that, he’s off faster than he wanted to free me of my panties.
Called it.
This is why I don’t date. I can smell them a mile away, and by them I mean fuck boys. It’s a recently developed gift, one I only wish I had at fifteen. And seventeen. And let’s not forget nineteen. Nineteen was a doozy. They all were I guess since it was the same guy.
Derek. The—cherish and rue—guy.
As a teenage single mom, I shouldn’t cast aspersions, but his name alone should have been a raging douche alarm.
Without meeting and falling for him, I wouldn’t have my precious girl.
But I also wouldn’t have been robbed of my innocence, forced to learned the cruel reality of love, at way too young an age.
Nor would I possess a hole in my heart so all consuming, not even the love of my beautiful Billie can heal it.
Speaking of heels.
“Cherry. Was this loser hassling you?”
“No more than you are. Now back off, Cory. You’re clumsy as fuck, and cramping my style.
” The unfocused eyes of my brother stare back at me, mistrust oozing from their edges as he squints.
He’s not drunk, the dick just refuses to wear his glasses around his team mates.
In the few minutes we’ve been at O’Reilly’s—Boston College’s local bar—he’s tripped twice and tried to order a drink from a cardboard cutout of a leprechaun.
“I’m cramping your style? You’re the one who begged me to come.”
‘Cause he’s right, I follow him to the hockey player-filled table, slide in after him and toss my arm around his neck. “And I’m grateful you caved. It’s nice to be young, dumb and carefree. Thanks for letting me live as you do for a few hours.”
“I’m not carefree. Or dumb,” he huffs, snatching and pretending to study a menu from the center of the table. “You’re right, only a complete genius who definitely doesn’t need glasses, would studiously read an upside down menu.”
“Hey,” he whispers, “ix-nay on the glassesay.”
“Are you trying on pig-Latin? Is that what’s happening right now?
” His pure embarrassment only makes me laugh harder when I shouldn’t.
Cory is the captain of the BC’S hockey team, cute—duh, ‘cause he looks like me—is fun to be around, and he’s an amazing player.
The problem is he’s also a massive nerd, who wears coke-bottle glasses, reads comics, and is more than a little insecure about it.
Little being the operative word. I’m five-seven, many consider me tallish, but at the same height, Cory is on the shorter side.
Especially when it comes to hockey players.
He was nervous as all hell coming here tonight, but since I needed it as much as he did, I may have bullied him into it.
What I didn’t do, was suggest he go without either glasses or contacts.
Observing our banter is rich asshole-party boy Trent. I’ve met the pompous ass a few times via my bestie Chloe, and he reminds me so much of Dereck, my skin crawls at the sight of him.
“Cubby,” he sneers. “You finally landed a babe. Well done, little man.” Yep, I hate him.
“I’m his sister, moron.”
Nodding as he gulps the last of his beer, Trent fixes his seedy eyes on mine. “Makes sense. Such a short-ass could never pull such a hottie. I’m Trent.” He winks.
“Right. Yeah, we’ve met before.”
“‘Course we have. Can I get you a drink?”
“No thanks. I’d rather not be roofied.”
Cory and I share a high five, and another dickwad sitting beside Trent, snorts then burps right in my face. As the stench of stale beer and nuts wafts, Brady—former Bears player and now assistant coach—flicks his straw wrapper in the belcher’s direction.
“Have some manners, Nurse. You’re in public. Not the locker room.” He then turns to me, his trademark blush firmly fixed in place. “Hi Cherry, sorry about that.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Brades. Some apes just can’t be taught no matter how skillful a teacher.”
Trent and his pals huff in unison and depart. “Let’s get a drink, boys.”
I don’t let it drop though, not while they’re still in earshot. “Isn’t that right, Cory? … Cory?” Turning to my brother, I find him peeking out from behind the still upside down menu. “Hello! Earth to Cory.”
“What?” Briefly, he blinks up at me then continues to squint across the room. Following his gaze, I spot a big beefy guy with a mustache, who’s exactly Cory’s type.
What in the gay drama have I stumbled into?
My heart races with excitement. I’ve not seen Cory in action since he came out, but have been living vicariously though his Grindr notifications. “You know, if you wore your glasses, you could actually see the fuzzy figure you’re watching like a freak, is also staring at you.”
“I know that. What I don’t know is who he’s with, and why he’s touching him.”
“Who’s touching what now?” Spinning in his seat, Brady repeats my movement. “Oh, James.” He smiles and waves to this James, causing Cory to slide deeper beneath the table. “Dunno who he’s with. Maybe it’s a date. Cub, come say hi and find out.”
“Nope. No thanks. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things. You go but don’t tell him I saw him. Not that he’ll care, but don’t ”
Slightly bemused Brady slips from the table and heads over to this James. “Okay. I’ll say hi for you.”
“No, don’t!” Cory yells to his back. “Shit.” Brady approaches James, shakes his hands, then points our way. “Are they looking at me? What’s he saying?”
“For fuck’s sake, Cory, how am I supposed to know.
” Having suspected Cory would need them, I pull his nerd frames from my tiny bag, and slide them onto his face, accidentally on purpose poking him in the nostril, eye and ear in the process.
“Here put these on you damn fool. Then maybe you can tell me who the hottie we’re ogling is. ”
“Nice glasses, Cap. They suit you.” A voice so low and rough I feel it mark my skin, draws my gaze off my twin brother and onto someone, something, far more enticing—a set of alarmingly deep gray eyes on a gorgeous face. “Who are we ogling?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I feel my eyelashes flutter on their own accord. “Why you, of course.”
Popping a straw into his mouth, Mr. Hot chews it slowly, his gaze raking over me, before tossing me a wink that’s sexy, not vulgar. “Knew it. Hi, I’m Sam.”
“Hey, I’m—”
“Cherry. Our fearless leader’s twin sister.
Knew that, too.” Plucking the straw from his lips, he reaches a ridiculously long arm over the table, picks up my hand and presses a soft kiss against my knuckles.
His overtly sexual confidence should render it nauseating.
But those eyes, blue…gray? I can’t quite tell.
That smile and that slight southern twang, make it the sexist move I’ve ever experienced.
I feel naked. Exposed. I both love and hate it.
Unsurprisingly, Cory fails to appreciate our obvious chemistry. “Hands off, Bailey. Sisters are off limits. You and your Mr. Smooth act can go … take off.” Flicking my braid over my shoulder, I squish closer to my baby bro and snuggle against him.
“Aww, you’re so protective of me, bro. And you have such a way with words. Especially off. I’ve got another one for you. Stop being such a jerk off. Sam was just being polite. Weren’t you Sam?”
“Sure was, Mam.”
“Please,” Cory scoffs. “I’ve seen you pull that kissy-hand move at least a dozen times.”
“Maybe so, Cubs. But how many of those girls do you see me leaving with?”
With a huff, Cory begins to reply to this teammate, but I cut him off. “Probably none if he went in blind like he has tonight.” My zinger earns me another high five, this time from Sam, the skin-on-skin contact resulting in a far different feeling coursing through my veins than the prior one did.
Instant lust.
It’s a rare thing for me to experience. I’ve numbed that side of me since Billie was born. Feeling it once more is as terrifying as it is thrilling.
Even though I’ve had a longstanding man embargo in place, I’d very much like to explore the latter of those emotions, but the night turns to shit before I can.
Trent, his crew, a few stray puck bunnies and their hideous attitudes, fill our tables empty seats, take one look at Cubby with his glasses on, and all howl with laughter.
“Since when did Chicken Little play Hockey?”
“Chicken Little is close, but I think it’s giving more … Stuart Little.”
On and on they go. Some of it’s harmless, good natured chirping, but Trent in particular, consistently takes it too far. If it’s not Cory’s glasses, its his love of superheros, his height and his precocity of leaving alone.
As Brady and Sam do their best to rein in the crew of morons, Cory shifts in his seat, his gaze drifting from the table out to the parking lot where James is still chatting to his friend.
In all honesty, I’m not even sure if he’s listening.
My overprotective ass could be getting more worked up over this than he is.
Either way, I get why my lil bro has been so hesitant being around these …
people. The eagerness I felt to be out with those my own age, and the flirtation Sam inspired, withers up like my mom’s homemade soda bread.
I’m seconds from losing my shit, when Mustache James and his date leave, and Cory decides he’s had enough, too. Coincidence? I think not.
“Let’s go, Cherry.” With a short sharp smile and up-nod to Brady and Sam, he waves to the twats, then makes for the exit. I do the same, waving to the two decent humans, but offering no such courtesies to the others, choosing instead to give them a up close view of my two middle fingers.
“Cherry, wait!” Sam leaps to his feet before I’ve made it a few steps. “Could I get your number? I thought … I mean I’d like to ask if we could go out sometime?”
YES! FUCK YES!
“I’d like that too, Sam, but I don’t think so.
” LOSER. “I’m not really dating right now.
I have work and … stuff.” Instantly, guilt eats at the lining of my belly.
Referring to my girl as ‘stuff’, is not okay, but even though I can’t date him, I hate the thought of him judging me the way so many others do.
“But, my friend Chloe is on the Bears women’s team. Maybe I’ll see you round the rink?”
I don’t know him well to say for sure, but he seems disappointed, the dimple popping smile he flashes forced. “Yeah. For sure, Cherry. See you round.”