CHAPTER 9 BENNETT
BENNETT
“Bennett,” Graydon says as I’m about to exit the zoo.
“Hey, man, what’s—”
He slaps a piece of paper to my chest and starts to walk away, his large, imposing body not even skipping a step. I quickly grab the paper and look down at the almost unintelligible handwriting.
Cougar Vajeen and a number.
“That’s for your friend.” He continues to walk away.
“Wait, are you not going to introduce me or anything?”
He spins on his heel to face me. “Is it a date for you or a date for her?”
“A date for her,” I answer.
“Then good luck.” With that, he keeps walking into the zoo while I’m on my way out.
I stare down at the number, the back of my neck tingling with irritation.
Before he gets too far, I call out, “Does he know?”
Shouting before he walks into a building, he says, “He’s expecting her call.”
And then he disappears.
He’s expecting her call, words I didn’t want to hear, but also words I set up myself. This is what I wanted, right? It’s all part of the plan?
Then why the hell does it make me feel incredibly nauseous?
This is what Nolan suggested, though. At the time, it all made sense, and there seems to be logic behind it all…so might as well just rip off the bandage.
Not wanting to second-guess this, I pull out my phone and send Cougar’s name and number to Bower before heading to my car.
There, now to finish executing the plan. All she needs to do is—gulp—go on a date with the douche, realize he’s a douche, and then come crawling back to me and see how great a guy I am.
Seems simple enough.
Foolproof.
One of the best ideas I’ve ever had.
I get in my car, start it, and pull out of the parking lot, headed straight to the stadium for my game tonight.
We got home yesterday, but I haven’t seen Bower because we got in late and I had to report to the zoo this morning to fulfill the hours of this stupid PR bullshit, and I really didn’t do much other than help prepare food for the lions.
Still wondering how this is helpful for my image when there aren’t even cameras following me around.
It feels like court-ordered community service, not some publicity stunt that’s supposed to get the fans to like the team again.
Thankfully the stadium isn’t too far from the zoo. When I pull in, I nod to the security guy at the gate and then park my car next to Nolan’s, who is getting out of his car at the same time.
“Fucking hell,” he says in greeting once I lock up my vehicle.
He’s sporting gray sweatpants, a red Pikachu shirt, and slides with socks. Large, dark sunglasses that you would only truly find on an octogenarian cover nearly half his face as he sucks on a lollipop and props his hand against my truck.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask.
“Dude, I’ve seen hell and somehow resurrected myself.”
“What do you mean?”
He tilts his glasses down to look at me. “Whatever you do, don’t get the lamb at Quints.” He presses his hand to his stomach. “Motherfucker, I might throw up again.”
“Jesus,” I say, taking a step away. “Can you play?”
“If Michael Jordan can play after getting food poisoning, then so can I.” He grabs a hold of my arm. “But can you walk me into the stadium? My legs are a little wobbly.”
He clutches on to me like I’m a life raft, and because I’m that good of a friend, I let him as we walk slowly—and I mean very slowly—into the stadium.
“When did you have Quints?”
“Last night. They were one of the only places open, and I thought, lamb kabob, why not?”
His cheeks puff out, a gurgle moving up his throat, and all I can say is fuck that, I’m not that good of a friend. I release him, taking a step back, and wince as he opens his mouth and lets out an echoing belch that vibrates my entire spine.
Jesus Christ.
“Oh fuck,” he says, gripping his stomach, hunched over for a beat before he stands taller, assesses himself, and then smiles. “Shit, that…that kind of helped.”
“Jesus, dude, you’re disgusting.”
Nolan scoffs at me. “It’s a burp, nimrod. Go clutch your pearls somewhere else.”
Then without my assistance, he strolls into the stadium, me walking slightly behind him.
After a few seconds of silence, I say, “So, I went through with your plan.”
“What plan was that? I offer up so many successful ones, I can’t keep track.” He heads into the cafeteria, where he pops his sunglasses on his head and grabs a few Powerades, two for each hand.
“Oh, I don’t want any.”
“They’re not for you,” he says, walking past me again.
For someone who looked like they were about to drop to their knees and keel over, he sure seems fine now. Did he really just need to burp to solve his problems? Wouldn’t put it past him. He’s that kind of guy.
“You really just going to drink all of those?”
“Going to pound them.”
“Don’t you think that’ll upset your stomach more?”
“You fail to remember I’m a different breed.”
“Yeah, never fail to remember that,” I say as we head into the locker room, where most of our team is chatting and getting their warm-up gear on.
Nolan heads straight for the recliners in the middle of the locker room and flops back on one, lifting the footrest at the same time.
Once settled, he uncaps a Powerade and starts chugging it before flipping his sunglasses back down and then holding the bottle close to his chest, like it’s a stuffed animal he can’t live without.
And because I have some time to spare and apparently love the torture, I take a seat next to him.
“So, uh…like I said, I went through with your plan.”
“Oh, right. What plan?”
“The one we talked about, where I set up Bower with someone else, so I could swoop in and look like the good guy.”
“Oh, right,” he says, taking another sip.
“I texted her the guy’s information before I left the zoo. Graydon got it to me today.”
“Who was it?” Nolan asks. “I know a few guys on the team.”
“Cougar Vajeen.”
Nolan straightens and flips his sunglasses up so his bloodshot eyes are boring into me. “Cougar Vajeen?”
“Uh, yeah, is that, uh…is that a problem?”
“Who the fuck’s idea was that?”
Sweat starts to tickle the back of my neck. “Graydon. I told him I needed a douchebag, and that’s who he came up with, or at least that’s who his friend Hutton came up with.”
“Dude, Cougar Vajeen is not the guy you want going out with the girl you have a crush on.”
Panic washes over me as I ask, “Why?”
“Because, he might be a douche, but he’s a charismatic one. I’ve seen him work his charms firsthand, to the point that with a simple wink, he’s taking a girl back to his place.”
“Wait, what?”
I quickly pull out my phone to…hell, I don’t know, reverse my text when I see three text messages waiting for me from Bower.
Oh fuck.
Oh God.
OH FUCK!
Bower: Ahhh, you’re amazing. Thank you so much.
Bower: Just looked him up, and holy shit is he hot.
Bower: Eeep! We have a date this Friday. I can’t wait. Thank you!
“Noooo,” I say, slouching in my seat.
“What?”
Looking Nolan in the eyes, I say, “They’re going out Friday night.”
“Oh…shit.” He blows out a heavy breath and then leans back in his chair. He flips his sunglasses back down and uncaps another Powerade, this time handing it to me. “Drink up, dude, you’re going to need the electrolytes.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because your future is filled with a lot of tears and you’ll have to hydrate.”
“Stop. It can’t be that fucking bad.” Although, my stomach is feeling like it ate some bad lamb kabobs from Quints right about now.
“You can convince yourself of that, but let me tell you, it’s bad.
Cougar is unmatched. He has women crawling at his feet whenever he goes out.
He has his choice of anyone, and when he chooses, he goes hard.
Hard with his approach and hard with his dick.
” Nolan lifts up, glances around, and then says, “Rumor is, he broke a woman’s uterus once with his penis. ”
“That is not fucking true,” I say, bile rising to my throat.
“Either way, the man is charming as fuck, and for someone like you, who has a massive crush on the girl he’s taking out Friday, well, let’s just say he’s your worst nightmare, and there is nothing douchey that will deter your girl away from him.
And he’s only going to ruin her, because any other man won’t compare. Dick is too big, man.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
He pushes his sunglasses down his nose. “Six foot fucking seven,” Nolan says. “Pecs bigger than my goddamn head. Thighs that have cracked a watermelon with one squeeze. And that dick of his? A fucking tree trunk. I’ve seen it firsthand. Tell me I’m lying.”
“When have you seen his dick?”
“Don’t ask questions.” Nolan holds his hand up. “Just know your chances of being with this girl are nonexistent now. Unsure what Graydon was thinking, but welcome to the permanent friend zone, my guy.”
And just like that, dread fills me along with a heavy dose of regret.
“What the fuck, man,” I yell. “You were the one who told me to do this.”
He presses his hand to his ear. “For fuck’s sake, not so loud.”
“No, you’re the one who got me into this mess, now get me out of it. Tell your friend, Cougar, to cancel on her.”
“No can do. He’s not my friend. Also, this was not my fault.”
“This one hundred percent was your fault.”
“No, I told you to get someone douchey, not an Adonis with a fucking jackhammer dick. That’s on you.”
“You said douchey, and Graydon said he was douchey. How is this my fault?”
“It’s called research,” Nolan says as he takes another sip of his Powerade. “Did you even look the guy up before sending her the info?”
“No,” I say, hating how hasty I was.
“That’s right, because if you did look him up, you would have seen just how massive he is. And you’re a big guy yourself, but to him, you’re an ant. If you actually saw what he looked like, you never would have sent his phone number over.”
He’s right about that. If I took one goddamn second to look Cougar up, I’d have seen just how “good-looking” he is and I’d have never sent his information over to Bower. I’d have asked Graydon to try again.