CHAPTER TWELVE
SONYA
“What exactly is our game plan tonight?” Bekah asks the moment we reach our usual table at On The Bench. Tucked away enough for privacy but not too far away from the action. She turns to eye me, hands resting on her hips while waiting at the edge of the table for Everett to slide into the booth first. “Are we finding you a hook-up tonight, Sunny?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. Walker took his no back and that should mean something. It does mean something. I want to wait for him, but waiting for him could mean being inevitably disappointed when he says no again. “I invited Walker and a few of his friends to join us,” I share, pressing my lips together when my eyes drift to Everett, who still hasn’t sat down. “Wren might be coming, too.”
“Fantastic,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m getting a drink.”
He doesn’t wait to see if anyone else wants anything, he simply turns and detours towards the bar that sits as the main fixture. I wish I could pinpoint what exactly it is about Wren he doesn’t like, but he’s never said why. As open as he can be with his art, it’s hard getting him to talk. He’s got the whole tortured artist thing down to a science at this point, and as much as I wish he’d let one of us into that locked-up heart, I know it’s only a matter of waiting.
He needs the right person, and more than that, he deserves someone who sees past all the bullshit walls he puts up and stays. But until that day comes, all we can do is wait.
“You are definitely his favorite person now,” Bekah teases, settling into the booth when she realizes he won’t be joining us yet. “You’re having second thoughts about Campbell?”
“I was never sure about that to begin with.”
“Sure of what?” Dylan approaches the table.
“Nothing,” Bekah answers while I eye the flowers tucked under his arm and the wall of hockey players behind him.
“What’s with the flowers?” I ask, moving over to let him slide in next to me while his teammates grab chairs from the nearby table to bring over. Fitz makes himself at home opposite Dylan, forcing Bekah to scoot in.
“For Evy,” he shares. “Where is he?”
I scan the bar for him and find him leaning across it, his eyes set on the muscular bartender. “Admiring.” I point in his direction. “He’s a little upset. I unintentionally invited his arch-nemesis to join us here.”
“Arch-nemesis?” Campbell asks, his hair still a little damp from the postgame shower.
“Yeah, he’s not too fond of this girl in his program. She’s best friends with my friend’s roommate’s crush, so when I invited them…I kind of invited her.”
Dylan laughs. “Good job, Sunny.”
“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “He’ll get over it.”
“Are we sure? He’s known to hold a grudge,” Reid chimes in, looking up from his book.
Bekah laughs. “How was the game? Did you guys win?”
“Checking up on us, sweetheart?” Fitz asks.
“Do not call me sweetheart.” Her eyes narrow in his direction. “I am no one’s sweetheart. Least of all yours.”
“Put the claws away, Beks,” Dylan says with a laugh, amusement coating his voice. “The game was good. We won three-one. I got a goal.”
“I got the other two,” Fitz says, leaning into Bekah with a sly smile.
“Is that supposed to impress me?”
Pressing my lips together, I lift my hand up and try to keep my laugh from slipping out. Bekah has a tough exterior. A worn armor wrapped around her, keeping herself safe from everyone around her. She’s a lot like Everett in that way, but unlike our grumpy friend, she’s learned to soften that hard shell to let people in.
She let me in, and now we’re tangled together for life.
Fitz, however, is not someone she’s willing to let her wall down for.
“What about you, Sunny? Did you decide about the whole casual sex thing?” Dylan asks, gently nudging my side with his elbow.
I roll my eyes. “No.”
“You sure? Any of these guys would be more than willing to help you out,” he says, hitching his thumb in the direction of his teammates. My eyes widen until I realize that somewhere between Bekah and Fitz’ arguing and Dylan bringing up my sex life, they escaped the chaos and moved to one of the empty pool tables.
My eyes narrow at him. “Okay, you know what? New rule. No more talking about my sex life, and definitely no more auctioning off your teammates as tribute,” I tell him. “Besides, we both know how well that worked out the last time I tried.”
He rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t stop the megawatt of a grin from filling his face. The very same grin he sent me when we met. I knew I wasn’t special. He flashed it at just about everyone with a pulse—still does—and it works for him. I can’t fault him for that.
But I can fault him for trying to use it now to get off scot-free.
“It’s okay, Sunny,” he says, his eyes bright. “I was too man for you.”
“I think what you mean to say is Sonya was too woman for you,” Bekah says, leaning across the table and earning a snicker from Fitz. “I wouldn’t be talking, Captain,” she says, elbowing him. “You couldn’t handle her either.”
“Is that so?” he asks, challenge sparking in his eyes while he shifts to face her.
Holding his gaze, she moves closer until there is only an inch of space between them. “Your little ego couldn’t handle a real woman.”
I expect Fitz to back down, knowing Bekah is more than willing to put him in his place, but to my surprise, he grins as his eyes move down to her lips and then back up. “I am willing to be proven wrong if you want to test that theory.”
Bekah groans, rolling her eyes at him. “Disgusting.”
“Should we give them the room?” Dylan asks when Fitz laughs, leaning over to whisper something in Bekah’s ear. Whatever it is, I watch Bekah turn a shade of bright pink.
“Shut up.” I push on his arm when he doesn’t immediately turn his attention my way. “And stop trying to set me up with your teammates.”
“I mean, Sunny, you clearly want to know the person you’re getting intimate with. I just thought this would help. If you’re not interested in a hockey player, there’s always Reid.”
“Fuck off, DeLuca,” Reid says, lifting his hand to flip him off with his eyes still glued to the book in front of him.
“I double down on that,” I say, pointing to Reid before letting my eyes wander across the bar, searching for Walker. I expected him to text me if he decided to come, but my phone is void of any notifications, and I’m beginning to worry that means he’s not coming. Not that I can hold him to a last-minute offer, especially when it extends to more than just him. He’s hanging out with his roommate. I can’t just expect him to drop everything at the drop of a dime for me, but it doesn’t dim the disappointment filling my chest.
Next to me, Dylan nudges my side. “Who are you looking for?”
“Walker,” I tell him, chewing my bottom lip out of habit. There’s no point in even trying to hide it. My parents always said I walk around with a blinking sign above my head saying everything on my mind. I can’t seem to help it. I wear my emotions out in the open.
“What kind of name is Walker?” Fitz asks, having yet to leave our table.
“What kind of name is Fitz?” Bekah shoots back, glaring at him.
“Last name, baby,” he says, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. The green in his eyes holding a brighter quality, like being around Bekah lights something up inside them. “Could be yours one day if you’re lucky.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing when Bekah’s gaze turns deadly. “I’d rather stab myself in the eye than ever consider the idea of being married to you,” she says, leaning into him. “Repeatedly.”
“Two hundred bucks says they fuck in the next nine months,” Dylan whispers to Reid and me. My eyes widen at the comment. “What? You can bet on my sex life, but I can’t make some bets of my own?”
“I give it a year,” Reid says, still glued to his book, and my lips fall open. Reid never participates in our bets when it comes to Dylan.
Dylan perks up at his bet and extends his hand out to Reid. “Thirty-day window?” he questions, and I expect Reid to shake his head and take it back, but to my surprise, he takes Dylan’s hand without even bothering to look and shakes it.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I hiss, reaching for the book he’s holding. He makes a grab for it, but I tuck it close to my chest and out of his reach.
“What?” he asks, an innocent look in his eyes. “I like to win, too.”
I go to argue when Bekah’s voice grabs my attention again. “I will kill you.”
Fitz is wearing a grin when he says, “I had no idea you were so violent, Beks.”
“I hate you.”
“Sure, you do,” he says with a grin, finally sliding out of the booth. “You know where to find me when you decide you want to put me in my place.”
Silence falls over the table, all waiting for Bekah’s reaction to come as she slowly sinks back into the booth with her brows drawn tight. “You good, Beks?” Dylan asks, biting his lip to hide the forming smirk.
“Just peachy,” she says when Everett approaches the table with a clear tumbler of amber liquid. “What is that?” she asks, pointing to the glass.
“Tequila,” Everett says, and that’s all Bekah needs to grab it from his hand and toss it back. He raises his eyebrow in question, his gaze bouncing around the four of us, but before he can say anything, Dylan extends the flowers.
“Here you go, cutie,” he says, standing up to pull Everett into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry I missed your showcase, but I’m proud of you.”
Everett’s exterior softens as he smiles down at the flowers. “Thanks, Dyl.”
“It’s open for a few more days, right? I want to go by and see your work.”
“Yeah, they’re showcasing it for two weeks,” Everett shares, settling in next to Bekah while Dylan returns to his spot next to me. “We can go next week sometime if you want.”
“I’m in,” he says, looking at me. “Did you figure out a time with Campbell yet?”
I shake my head when the door to the bar opens, and Walker walks in with Flynn, Devon, and Wren in tow. Just like last time—or anytime I see him—his eyes brighten when they find mine. It’s like we’re two magnets, drawn together when we’re in the same room like clockwork. I lift my chin in a silent greeting, smiling at him despite the worry simmering in my belly. I have no reason to worry. I know we’re going to be okay, but it doesn’t change the fact it’s there.
“Would you look at that?” Dylan says. “He showed up.”
I bite down on my bottom lip and nod, chewing my bottom lip. “He kissed me.”
The entire table turns to look at me, and my chest suddenly feels like it’s on fire. Somewhere along the way, keeping that information to myself felt like the weight of the world was resting on my chest, so I spill everything. I catch Everett up on our conversation at the diner and then the rest of it. The kiss, the taking back of the no—all of it.
“So…he said yes?” Bekah asks.
I shake my head, reaching for one of my curls, and pull it straight. “He asked for time to think about it, which obviously he can have, and I know we’re going to be fine with whatever he decides, but the waiting is sending me down a spiral of thinking maybe he is right and sex will fuck everything up.”
Dylan’s smile turns gentle. “I’d say some of the best friendships come from sex.”
“I am almost positive you wouldn’t have given me a second thought if I slept with you,” I say, letting go of my hair and smiling at the memory of him chasing me across campus. Part of me expected it to be an ego thing. People like Dylan don’t get turned down, especially halfway in, but I think the thing that secured our friendship is that I was wrong.
He chased me down to check on me. To make sure I was okay, and that’s the difference between Dylan and everyone else. He may ooze confidence, and as ironic as it is, he is a giver. He cares for people deeply, and one day, I know it will make him a great boyfriend when he finally finds the person that makes him want to slow down.
“I don’t know, Sunny,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure I would have done just about anything to have a little bit of your sunshine in my life.”
I lift my head to find his eyes settled on me, the same genuine look that is always there. Leaning over, I press my lips to his cheek and smile. “Thank you.”
“What are you going to do?” Reid asks.
It almost hurts to take a breath and wonder what I’m supposed to do while waiting. I would never force Walker’s hand, not about this, but I also don’t think I have it in me to sit and wonder.
“I need to show him what he’s missing,” I say. “I just don’t know how.”
Everett’s lips curl up from across the table. “How are your acting skills?”