13. 13 Nathan
13: Nathan
W e opt for The Salty Dog—a quiet bar. The last place we need to be is somewhere where we’ll get recognised and stormed for autographs and photographs.
The stereo in the corner plays some cringe-worthy pop song, unrecognisable to my ears, and the small groups of patrons here natter amongst themselves, appearing too old to care about sports and who we are.
The faint smell of tobacco wafts up my nose, and I wonder if somebody’s smoking in here or if the scent is so embedded into the furniture that the place continuously smells this way.
I take a sip of my water, eyeing up Riley as he sits at the table with my sister and Mae. His stupidly perfect teeth are on full display as he laughs, voice boisterous and egotistical.
I’ve always thought Riley Donovan deserves a good throat punch to bring him down a few pegs, but I’ve never felt so passionate about it until now.
Bennett pulls his cap further down as a group of younger people enter the bar, angling himself so they can’t see his face. “Your dad didn’t come to the game today.”
“He was working.”
“I don’t see why you don’t just tell him to stay the hell away from you.”
“Tried that,” I respond, tilting my glass towards him. “Didn’t go down too well. Besides, he’ll take to the media if I try that again, and God only knows what kinds of stories he’ll sell on me to try and ruin my name if I try that again.”
Bennett’s face falls. He sighs, shaking his head slightly. “Shit. Is it really worth putting up with him, though? I mean, no offence, but your dad’s an ass.”
I shrug, shifting my eyes over to Riley and the others. I pretend to be absorbed in the atmosphere. The chattering of people. The feel of the uncomfortable barstool beneath me. The smell of old wood and dust.
But the way Riley speaks with fluidity and charm and how Mae laughs at whatever he’s just said is where my attention really lies.
I hope she’s laughing at him.
I can sense my eyes tightening, a spark of disapproval flickering inside my chest. Mae doesn’t need a guy like Riley. He’s non-committal. He loves the chase, but once he’s captured his prey, he loses interest and moves on to the next shiny toy.
He hides it well from the media, but football community members talk.
“Man, are you okay? You look like you’re ready to throw hands.” A chuckle seeps from Bennett. He follows my eyeline and mutters a quiet, “Oh, I see.”
“What?” I mutter, snapping my eyes away and jostling my glass, the ice hitting the sides, creating an aggravating clink noise.
“Might want to be a little more subtle about that.” My best friend is grinning from ear to ear. I swear, I’ve never seen the guy in a bad mood. Even when we lose a game, he’s oddly positive.
“Subtle about what? I’m just looking at them.”
He chuckles, winking at me over the brim of his tall glass of soda. “Them? Or her? ”
My eyes round. The fact that Bennett is even bringing that up is ridiculous. There is no possibility that Mae and I will ever be anything more than professional.
“Shut up, Quinn.”
“Denial is a river in Egypt,” is his response.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all, my friend.” He’s laughing, and I see Mae’s head turn to take a quick look at us at the sound of Bennett’s loud bellow.
She’s fresh-faced, having had a shower after cheering. She doesn't do much on the sidelines, but I can’t lie and say that her in that red and white uniform—they finally managed to get one tailored to her—doesn’t steal my attention away when I should be focusing on the game.
She’s a distraction.
A big fucking distraction.
Poppy is engaged in a conversation with one of Riley’s teammates. It looks friendly enough, and I know that the guy has a wife and a kid on the way. He’s trustworthy, so I’m not that worried.
But Riley is smiling slyly at Mae—as if she’s a meal—and she’s nodding in agreement.
My gut twists inside of me when he leans forward, almost entering her personal bubble. His large, tattooed hands hover just a brush away from hers, and although Mae doesn’t look uncomfortable, she doesn’t appear to be encouraging his behaviour either.
She’s still, but her face is still friendly.
Does she like tattoos? Is that what she’s into? I don’t have any. Never felt the need for them.
I huff.
A promising future is on the cards for Mae, so the last person she needs to be mixed up with is Riley Donovan. She doesn’t want to be famous. She wants a quiet life where she can tend to animals in peace.
“Oh, shit! You’re Nathan Slater and Bennett Quinn!” A man in his late twenties stands beside us, lips stretched out in a smile. “Congratulations on the win, guys. I just watched the game on TV.”
I dip my head in appreciation. “Thanks, man. Keep it quiet for us, though, yeah? We’re just here for a celebratory drink.”
“Oh, of course. Do you both mind signing my—” the fan glances around, snatching up something from the bar counter, “—used napkin?”
Bennett chuckles, pulling a pen from his bag and scribbling on the dirty napkin, making a face when the pen rips through the paper. I quickly do the same as the fan and Bennett engage in friendly conversation, and I refocus on Mae and Riley again.
Dislike blossoms inside my chest as he inches forward a little more, his fingers making contact with hers, eyes lustful.
Oh, absolutely fucking not.
I push my barstool back and march towards their booth.
Their heads twizzle towards me, eyes confused, but Riley’s are also laced with agitation.
“You good, Slater?” His teeth click together.
I gesture for Mae to scoot up, and she does immediately, giving me room to squeeze in. “I’m fine, Donovan. Thought I’d join you guys for a bit.”
I’m not too sure, but I think I see Mae’s shoulders droop in relaxation at my arrival.
“I was just telling your cheerleader here how good her team looked in their cheer uniform. She included.”
My fingers twitch, the rings around them suddenly feeling impossibly tight, constricting the blood flow. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, eyes honed in on Riley’s.
I’m not a petty guy. I’m above all that. But Riley’s smug face is testing my patience.
I snap.
“How’s that girlfriend of yours, Donovan? You two looked pretty cosy in the tabloids last week.”
Mae’s jaw ticks, and her form immediately stiffens as she straightens. I force my laugh down because, damn, I’ve just unleashed a raging bull in her.
Riley knows what I’m doing. I can practically feel the steam radiating off him. There’s something funny about how he squirms, trying to muster up a snarky comeback but failing miserably. Instead, he settles for, “Yeah, she’s fine. Why?”
I’ve got the upper hand here. I’ve just rained on his flirtatious parade, and he can’t fucking stand it.
Perhaps I’m enjoying it a little bit too much, but I refuse to let someone use Mae as if she’s some kind of plaything. She doesn’t deserve it.
“Tonight’s win wasn’t enough for you, huh?” Riley questions me, simmering rage lingering behind his irises.
“Hold on, so let me get this straight,” Mae speaks up, holding her hands up and waving them to get Riley’s attention. “You have a girlfriend?” She hums. “Well, she must be very proud to have you.” Her tone is sarcastic as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Riley, and I drag my bottom lip into my mouth to prevent myself from breaking.
“Yeah, she is actually.”
“I can’t see why,” Mae remarks, “because all I see here is a greedy, disloyal asswipe with his head so far up his own ass he’s wearing it as a hat. Do you flirt with anything with a pulse?”
“Okayyy,” Poppy chimes in, slowly gripping the glass of soda that sits in front of Mae, “I’m just gonna take this away before it ends up on his head.”
Mae’s comment is enough to have me laughing, especially because Riley stands up and announces he’s leaving and doesn’t want to waste another second in our presence. His teammates don’t follow him, though, and his ego seems to burst even more.
That was fucking gold.
“Well, he was a fucking narcissist,” Mae says, letting her head flop back onto the top of the leather booth so she can stare up at the ceiling. She releases a laugh of disbelief.
“Most athletes are.”
I want to ask her if she found Riley attractive. If she was fooled by his phoney charm for even a second. But I keep the lid on my jar of vulnerability.
“Hmm, true. I’ll remember to stay away from athletes from now on.” The comment makes my muscles tighten. “I’ll probably end up married to some businessman or something. Someone who comes home every evening in his suit and tie and blabs on about stocks and boring investments, expecting dinner to be on the table at seven PM sharp.” She groans, rolling her eyes. “I can’t fucking wait.”
My mouth is downturned, distaste sour on my tongue. “Don’t date a businessman, princess. That sounds dull.”
Poppy and the others are distracted by their own conversation, so I use the nickname confidently, finding it funny how Mae’s eyes flicker every time.
“Most men are dull.”
A niggling feeling grows in my chest. All I want to do is lay her down on this table and prove her very fucking wrong. Because if she thinks all men around here are dull, I’ll show her just how dull I can be.
I fiddle with my cap, giving myself something to do with my hands.
Mae will find a man she’ll marry someday.
And they won’t be an asshole NFL star like Riley.
I grind my teeth, unhappy with the direction my thoughts are heading.
Thinking of Mae married to some bland man who’ll probably expect her to cook, clean, and look after the kids while he spends every second of his spare time working bothers me—a lot.
He’ll probably give her shit sex, too.
My sister clears her throat beside us, saving me from my mind. “I’m exhausted. Are you guys ready to go?”
I nod, exiting the booth, and Mae does the same. Poppy beckons Bennett over towards the exit with a tilt of her head, and Mae hangs back with me as I grab my duffel bag.
“Thanks for having my back with Riley,” she says with a small laugh. “I can’t stand men who cheat. It makes zero sense to me, and the last thing I want is to be plastered all over the news as the other woman.”
That’s the last thing I want too.
I keep my face neutral, eyes dipping down to her breasts, cupped by her white, lacey cami top, for a brief second before I flick them back up. “No problem.”
Silence descends between us, and I ask her, “Do you like tattoos?”
“Tattoos?”
I nod. “Yeah, on men.” God, I sound like a self-doubting little teenager. “Riley has a bunch.”
Mae tilts her head, humming. “Tattoos are fine. To be honest, I was too busy looking at his shit haircut.”
I roll my lips together, eyes closing for a second as I scoff.
The things that come out of this woman’s mouth.
However, I only allow my mask to slip for a second. I blank my face and stare ahead, focusing on the wall with old bottle caps glued to it to create some kind of strangely unique art piece.
“Oh, he gave me this.” She holds up a small piece of paper with a mobile number written on it, “but I won’t be needing it.” Dropping it into her half-drunk glass of soda, she watches it disintegrate with a small smile.
He gave her his number?
I run my tongue along the front of my teeth.
Yeah… Riley Donovan and his shit haircut can suck it.