Chapter 1
Dustin
Now . . .
“Hello, boys.”
I could see the amusement dancing in her whiskey-brown eyes as she looked at Noah and me.
Of course it was her. Of all the women in all the bars . . .
“So, how’s the football program? Still rotten?” Hadley’s question had been enough for Noah to straighten to his full height and shoot her a wide smile.
“Rotten that it’s over for the season, you bet.” He made a show of checking her hands. “You want us to sign something?”
“Excuse me?” Her frown was brief, but we both saw it.
“Hey, it’s cool,” Noah said, again with that wide smile. “Maybe another time.”
Then we were walking away from her.
“What just happened?” I mumbled as he set a fast pace beside me.
“You wanted to dip your wick in the wrong honey pot, that’s what.” He didn’t look over his shoulder, but I knew he wanted to; hell, I wanted to, and I knew it was for a whole different reason from Noah’s.
“You can see why though, right?”
He sighed. “Yes, she’s very pretty.”
I glanced at the linebacker beside me. “That sounded patronizing.”
“Imagine that.”
“That sounded sarcastic.”
“And Coach said you missed all the signals this morning in practice,” Noah tutted.
“You’re being a dick,” I told him reasonably. “I didn’t do anything stupid. I hooked up with her, we made out, it won’t happen again.”
“You sure? Because you didn’t know who she was.”
“I don’t usually need to know who they are. That’s the point.”
“You didn’t speak about anything?” Noah asked. He shoved his hands into his pockets as we walked, his shoulders stooping a little. He did it a lot, I’d noticed. He was six four, and he always seemed to be curling down to make himself smaller.
“You need to walk with your back straight,” I told him. “You got a few inches on me, man, I don’t need you trying to make yourself look small. It’s bad for your posture to be walking like Quasimodo.”
Noah frowned, then he shook his head. “I’m hunching my shoulders because I’m cold and I’m hungry. Twice I’ve missed food tonight. I need food.”
“Fine. We’ll get you food. We should probably have ordered Spence his noodles.”
“Spaghetti.”
“Whatever.” We walked back to the apartment, my mind on the tall, dark-haired drink of water I left behind.
Hadley Peterson? Why? Why did the hot chick have to be the one woman, other than Savvy, that Dante would have a freaking coronary over if he knew I had my tongue in her mouth the other night?
It wasn’t just that she was hot. It was that she’d pulled away. Nobody pulled away first. That was my move.
When we got into the apartment, Dante was sitting on the couch, a silver foil container in his lap, and a piece of bread in his mouth. “I mmphh wimmph you.”
“I think he’s trying to say he got food without us.” Noah gave me an eye roll. “Did you order for us?” It was a rhetorical question; he was already pulling out a container and opening it.
“This one for me?” He showed the contents to Dante, who nodded. “Nice.” He took his container and bag of breadsticks over to the couch.
“Where’ve you been?” Dante asked, his mouth clear of food. “I didn’t think I’d been away that long, and when I came back, you were both gone.”
“We headed to the bar,” Noah told him, settling down. “Didn’t think you’d be here. It was pretty crowded, and I was hungry, so we came back.” He didn’t even look my way as he told the whole truth without embellishing things. “Where’s Savvy?”
“She was supposed to have dinner with her dad, but decided not to. We were on our way to the shed, but her mom called her, and it became . . .” He shrugged. “A thing. She ended up going to her dad’s after all.” He looked between us.
“Well, that’s good for her. Right?” Dante shrugged in reply and kept eating. “I told Noah you wouldn’t be back. I thought you’d be gone for a while.”
“I got you spaghetti and meatballs.” Dante didn’t lift his head from his food. “I know you get fussy if you don’t get red meat.”
“You knew we wouldn’t order?” Noah asked, tearing his bread in half.
“Wasn’t sure about you, knew Dust would get sidetracked.” He looked over at me, his gaze sharp but playful. “So who did you duck out of the bar to avoid?”
He thought I’d seen a hookup and bailed. I did. Just not the kind he was expecting. He wasn’t wrong about the reason, just the specific situation, not because the six-four mountain of muscle on the couch would rip my head off my shoulders if I went near my last ‘hookup.’
“You know me so well,” I mocked as I walked over and sat beside them. “When did you order? When you got back, or on the way back?”
Dante grinned. “You know me so well. On the walk back. I don’t want to say I knew you wouldn’t, but . . .” He took a mouthful of his pasta. “This was exactly what I needed,” he added, pointing his fork at his food.
“It’s just pasta,” I grumbled, getting comfortable.
I took a bite, feeling a little resentful toward my unassuming ball of ground beef, then flipped off my roommate when I saw the shit-eating grin spread across his face because I was practically drooling on the first mouthful.
“You went to the good place,” I mumbled as I dug in.
“Yeah.”
I couldn’t even argue because, shit, this was good food. I glanced over at Noah, who looked to be as happy as I was with the dinner choice.
The three of us ate in silence, and I wasn’t overly surprised when Noah dropped his empty container on the table. “We need to eat there more often.” He leaned back, his hand rubbing his stomach in appreciation. “How much do I owe you for my share?”
“We don’t do that,” I told him. “Shit, is this the first time we’ve had takeout with you?” I asked in surprise.
“This is the first time we’ve had takeout this semester,” Dante told me as he wiped his hands on a napkin. He turned to Noah. “We usually take turns paying, you good with that? Or do you want a split?”
Dante always knew how to make someone feel at ease when discussing money. I knew my folks had more than his mom did, but at the end of the day, we were all on scholarships. My parents had some cash, enough to flaunt, but not enough to be reckless with it.
I looked over at Noah.
“I don’t know a thing about you,” I realized out loud. “I mean nothing.” I glanced at Dante, whose lips were twitching. “Do you know shit about Noah?”
He shook his head. “I know he’s got a little brother who’s really smart, I know he gets mostly B’s, and I know he’s a shit-hot linebacker.
” He cocked his head when Noah grunted. “I know he’s got a mean right hook, I know he’s loyal, and I know both of you are going to be on my speed dial for the rest of my life. ”
Noah’s head dipped, but I saw the pleased flush. Dante and I exchanged a look, but my smart mouth wasn’t one to be quiet. “And I didn’t know that you hooking up with Savvy Cole would make you all emotional and in touch with your feelings . . . cringe.”
“It’s a new era, my friend.” Dante rubbed his shoulder. “But Dust is right, we know very little about you. Spill all the details, CliffsNotes only, else Dust will fall asleep.”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, but they both ignored me.
Noah sighed as he thought about what to say.
“Born and raised in Vegas; the city can keep you busy. My dad is huge on sports, so I played a little of everything until I picked the one I wanted. My little brother is not, in any way, a sports guy. But he comes and watches my games . . . well, he did when we were in the same place. He’s in Texas for school.
Mom works in one of the bigger casinos, and Dad works a nine-to-five in an office Monday to Friday.
She’s in hospitality, and he can tell you anything you need to know about air-conditioning units. That’s it.”
He said it like he was reading it off a card. Vegas, brother, parents, done. Enough to answer the question, not enough to invite the next one.
He looked over at me, his head tilted briefly, reading my read of him. “Oh, and I’m not gay. But no shade if you are.” He winked at me, and Dante laughed.
Diverting the conversation. A technique I used myself. Interesting.
“You asked him if he was gay?” he asked me.
“No, of course not,” I told him. “I asked him what his type was.” Dante shook his head at me, his grin growing. “What? He doesn’t seem to like women,” I protested. “It’s a valid question.”
“You were very PC about it.” Noah laughed when I flicked him the finger. “Now that is not very PC.”
“Did I offend you when I asked?” I demanded, knowing I hadn’t.
“It takes a lot more than that to offend me.”
Dante snorted and stood up to get an ice pack for his shoulder. “He’s probably offended you aren’t in love with him like all the girls on campus seem to be.”
“Oh, I see.” Noah was grinning. “I mean, as men go, you look okay. Nice skin, well-kept beard, nice color of brown eyes, tight abs . . .” He shrugged. “If you were my type, I’d do you.”
“You forgot my pert ass,” I said as I leaned to the side and raised my butt off the seat. “Girls love my glutes.”
Noah was nodding. “Of course, how could I forget, the ass is one of a kind.”
Dante was sniggering as he sat back down on the couch, his hoodie covering his mouth as he watched us. It was good to see him let loose.
“Laugh away, chuckles,” I teased him. “I saw you checking me out in the showers a few times.”
His head tipped back as he laughed loudly. “So you were checking me out, to know that I checked you out?”
Noah was laughing too. “Do you know how many times I get asked if you’re hung?
” he said to him, causing us both to laugh harder.
“It’s a thing. Seriously.” He was looking between us, his eyes wide in earnest. “I transferred here, and the guys back at my old school are like, so what’s his flaws, is his dick tiny? ”
I was leaning forward, holding on to my sides as I listened. “The guys are asking?”
He nodded. “Guys and girls. It’s not healthy how many people have asked me about your dick.”
Dante was shaking, he was laughing so hard, and Noah was lying back and relaxed as he told us.