Chapter Twenty-Two Saylor
Chapter Twenty-Two
Saylor
“Wyatt, Callahan, Finn, and Patty were all in the same recruiting class,” Piper said over drinks the Thursday night before the Wildcats’ big rivalry game against the Golden Bears.
“But Wyatt says the team is one hundred percent on board with Cash after his heroics since Patty’s injury.
” She eyed me over the rim of her lemon drop martini.
“He thinks with the way Cash has been throwing the ball, the pro scouts will be coming around for him again.”
My friend was fishing. After the way I’d called her, Chessly, and Jamaica out for falling for guys who had a real shot at the NFL—something that would necessarily impact my friends’ goals if their relationships remained on their current trajectories—I knew what she was truly after. What was my status with Cash?
Tipping back the lovely chocolate stout I’d been nursing, I pretended to savor a sip that had soured in my mouth. “Cash is focused on doing his best to keep the ship headed in the right direction after Patty’s surgery.”
“Uh-huh. So what happens if Cash decides to go for it and put himself in a position to play at the next level?”
I shrugged. “He attends Pro Day with the rest of his teammates who are looking to play up and hope some NFL scouts like what they see.” Working the edge of the label on my beer bottle, I managed to tear off the bottom half.
“Cash and I are having a fling. It’s nothing like what’s going on with the rest of you lovesick saps. ”
“Riiight.” Piper laughed. “Those aren’t your eyes glued to Cash no matter where he is on the field—or at a party following a game.” She put her hand up when I started to protest. “Those aren’t his hands that can’t stay off you whenever the two of you are together.”
Bubbling out a sigh, I said, “For the last time, Pipes, I’m not serious about him.
Besides, even if he doesn’t pursue the NFL, he’s headed to med school in the fall, which means our little interlude ends at graduation.
It’s that simple.” I tipped back a long pull from my beer.
“How are things with you and Pippa? Little sis still learning how to take care of her own business?”
Piper shot me a look from beneath her brows—one that said she knew a deflection when she heard one.
Yet she said, “It’s going to take time, but Pippa and I are getting there.
We’ll probably never be as close as we once were, but maybe our relationship will be better for it.
We can deal with each other as equals rather than as big sister and little sister. ”
A shadow fell over the table, and when I looked up, there stood Cash and Bax. I shot my friend a questioning look, at which she merely shrugged and scooted over in the booth to make room for her boyfriend.
A throat clearing from my left drew my attention away from the kissy-face going on across the table from me, and I slid over so Cash could sit beside me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing team-building or something tonight?” I asked.
“We did. Then Piper texted Bax where you two were, and here we are.” Leaning in, he said into my ear, “I texted you too, but you didn’t text back.”
Holding up my purse, I said, “Sorry. I put my phone away when I picked Piper up and didn’t hear the alert.”
“Good thing we have good friends then, yeah?”
I could feel his smile on my skin right before he brushed a kiss over my temple. Much as I didn’t want to respond to him, especially after the conversation I’d been having with my friend, I couldn’t seem to keep myself from melting into his warmth.
Bax waved the server over. “Another round for the ladies. I’ll have an IPA. What are you having, Cash Money?”
“I’ll have what she’s drinking.” He indicated my beer.
Facing him, I raised a brow. “Cash Money?”
The way he turtled down into his hoodie was kind of adorable. “Some of the guys on the team started calling me that after our last game.”
“It’s ’cause he keeps throwing dimes to our receivers, making ’em all look good.” Bax was exuding serious “proud papa” vibes, and I would have cracked up, except he wasn’t wrong.
Cash’s play since his first start had been nothing short of stellar. I truly wasn’t surprised people had started talking about pro scouts and the next level for him. As I’d told Piper, we weren’t serious. So why was all this talk about his play and his prospects giving me heartburn?
“You’re coming out for the bonfire tomorrow night, right?” Bax asked me after the server dropped off our drinks.
“It’s the last one before graduation, so I probably shouldn’t miss it. Is the team doing something special?”
Bax wrapped his arm tighter around Piper’s shoulders. “It’s our last one, and that by itself makes it special.”
“Why did you guys pick the M-Bar? I would have thought everyone would be at Stromboli’s,” Cash asked.
“Girl talk shouldn’t be shouted in a crowded bar,” I said, shooting my friend a warning glance across the table.
Bax’s eyes danced. “That means you were talking about us.” He snuggled closer to Piper. “What were you talking about? Come on—spill.”
“We were discussing your latest choice of T-shirt. Seriously, Bax, where do you find this stuff?” I indicated his current one, which read, “Weekend forecast: Football with a chance of drinking.” Laughing, I said, “Bet that one went over well with your coaches.”
Cash chuckled. “They only call Bax out if he tries to wear one instead of dress clothes on game days.”
“So, every weekend, huh?” I asked.
Bax grinned unapologetically. “Pretty much.” Lifting one shoulder, he said, “If they’d let me wear a blazer over ’em with my dress pants, I’d still look classy enough to play the game.”
Piper rolled her eyes, but the tiny smirk tipping up the corner of her mouth gave her away.
My friend came from even more money than I did, and she dressed the part, but she loved Bax’s sense of humor written large across his massive chest on the regular.
The two of them together, her with her purple highlights and designer clothes and him with his size and his goofy T-shirts, were another of life’s little mysteries.
One of the two pool tables in the back of the bar opened up, and Bax decided we should play. It was a bloodbath, of course. Cash was decent, but my game was poker, which was why I insisted we only play for fun. After two games where our friends shellacked us, we decided to call it a night.
It was rather convenient Cash had ridden to the bar with Bax since Piper had ridden with me. By unspoken agreement, she hopped into Bax’s truck, while Cash slid into my SUV. I’d barely pulled out of my parking spot when Cash turned in his seat to face me.
“What’s going on, Saylor? You’ve been tense all night. Did something happen with that Barry asshole today?”
Since I hadn’t acquiesced to Barry’s demands to switch sections, he’d somehow finagled his way into my section after the drop/add deadline.
Unfortunately for him, his favorite professor wasn’t teaching my section, so he wouldn’t be allowed to force his way onto my team.
My plan was working its slow way through the proper channels, which was supremely frustrating, but at least he couldn’t sabotage my project.
“He’s being his usual annoying self, but he hasn’t managed to get me alone.” I glanced over at Cash. “It does help that you’re waiting for me after Film 401 every day. He won’t ever admit it, but you intimidate the hell out of him.”
“That’s the goal,” he said with a small, satisfied smile. Then he sobered. “If the asshole isn’t the problem, what is?”
No way would I tell him what was truly bothering me because that would be admitting to feelings I was determined not to have.
Whether he earned a shot at the pros or he headed off to medical school, either way, at the end of the year we were over.
Admitting to myself I wanted more time with him, and setting graduation as a deadline in my head was scary enough, considering no one else I’d ever dated had lasted more than three weeks—a month, tops.
If I told him all this speculation about his prospects now he was the Wildcats’ starter was the problem… I shuddered. Nope. Not going there.
“While Barry isn’t an issue, we have a production hurdle I’m trying to sort out without resorting to asking my parents to help us fund it. If we can’t create the special effects we’re going for on our budget, I’m no better than my asshole nemesis.”
“You’re determined to be better.” It wasn’t a question.
“Exactly.”
“Talk me through it.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes hearing yourself say the problem aloud helps you see a way through it or around it.”
While I hadn’t been honest with him about what was going on with me, I wasn’t lying about my production problem. As I drove him across town to his place, I talked it out while he seemed to listen with his entire body.
When we pulled up outside his house, he said, “It’s physics. You could create the effect with that green slime we used to love as kids and bottle rockets. Cost you less than thirty bucks.”
I sat back in my bucket seat and stared across the console at him. “You’re brilliant. A freaking genius.” No doubt my smile was cheesy as hell, but I didn’t care. Cash’s elegant—and cheap—idea solved my problem. Win.
He smiled back at me. “Does that mean you’re coming in for a while?”
Gazing at the number of cars in the driveway, I said, “Too big an audience.” I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned across the console, cupping the side of his face in my palm. “Besides, don’t athletes need to be hungry before a big game?”