Chapter 4
I hate the idea of anyone else having you.
—Drew Callahan
Drew
They scream and shout my name the second I slip inside the private room at The District, the new restaurant where Logan’s party is being held. Every one of my teammates is already shitfaced and it’s only ten. I can see it in their blurry eyes and red cheeks, hear it in their too-loud voices.
But hey, at least they’re happy to see me. I figured I’d become the enemy. The asshole who lost their chance at a bowl game. We’d been close, so close every one of us had started to taste that faint glimmer of victory.
Then I met a girl, we went home together, and I let everything that happened there fuck my head all up. Stupid.
Logan approaches and gives me a shoulder-slapping hug. He reeks of alcohol and I push away from him, startled when Jace appears by my side, placing a beer in my hand and telling me to drink up.
I dutifully do as I’m told, ready to lose myself for at least a few hours.
The visit with my dad had turned tense the moment he insulted Fable.
Crazy, considering we weren’t together anymore, but I wasn’t going to stand by and let him say rude crap about her.
Truthfully, she was above all of us and I refuse to let him drag her through the mud, even if it was only to me.
After that fiasco of a lunch, he dealt constantly with Adele calling him, texting him, calling him again. I didn’t need that reminder, so I stayed away. Which meant we were apart for much of his visit, until he finally told me this morning he needed to go back home and attend to “business.”
Bullshit. Business was code for Adele. I didn’t call him on it, merely nodded and let him go. Promising him we’d get together again soon.
Yeah, right. I don’t see that happy reunion happening anytime soon.
“You’ve been in hiding,” Logan says as he sits next to me, a drink clutched in his hand.
His head lolls, as if he can’t quite keep it upright, and I shake my head, chuckling as I sip from my beer.
Sierra Nevada, the beer of choice in this town—it’s about the only kind I can drink. The rest tastes like swill.
“I’ve been around,” I say with a shrug. “Lying low. Taking fewer classes this semester. I needed a break.”
“I get it, man. I get it. And hey, don’t let Coach mess with your head. It wasn’t your fault, our spectacular losses at the end of the season.” Logan’s expression goes serious. As serious as it can go, considering how drunk he is. “We all sorta fucked up, you know?”
I take another, bigger swig of beer. I need it, since the topic of conversation has veered in a serious direction. “You think so?” I wonder if he’s just feeding me a line.
“Definitely.” He nods eagerly, his head still bobbing. “I’m glad you’re here, man. You never go out with us. I feel like I’m special or something, you showing up for my birthday and shit. Not every day a jackass like me turns twenty-one.”
We both laugh. “You’re right. You’re a total jackass.” Not really. Logan’s a decent guy. And besides, I couldn’t sit at home with my thoughts any longer. I was driving myself crazy.
Logan grins. “You need to hang out with us more. Wait until you see the waitresses who are ours for the night. They’re fucking hot. One of them everyone knows, some blond groupie with an amazing ass. The other one is tall and dark. Looks like a damn model.”
An uneasy sensation slides through me at the description of the blonde, but I push it aside. What are the odds? And there are plenty of blond team groupies out there. “Cute, huh?” I feign interest.
“Cute doesn’t begin to describe either of them.
They’re complete opposites and completely hot.
” Logan tilts his head back so it bumps the back of the chair.
“I need to get laid,” he says at the ceiling.
“I haven’t had sex as a twenty-one-year-old yet.
I think tonight calls for a celebration of the get-laid kind. ”
“I’m surprised there’s no girls here.” My teammates are known for having crazy parties with half-naked girls in attendance. Half the reason why I would never go—half-naked females coming at me used to scare the shit out of me.
They still make me uncomfortable because they always, always want something I can’t give them. Like my attention, my time. Forget that shit. There’s only one half-naked female I would welcome with open arms if she came at me right now.
And she hates me.
“Oh, the girls are coming later.” Logan smiles and closes his eyes. “Actually, we’re going to go and see them. Promise me you’ll come with us.”
“Uh …” Sounds like a nightmare.
Logan cracks open his eyes. “Promise me. I’ll start shouting and making a scene if you don’t promise.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll go.” I have no idea what I just agreed to but it can’t be good, judging by the sight of the wide smile Logan’s wearing. Besides, he’ll probably shout and make a scene no matter what I say.
A tall, dark-haired girl enters the private room, a smile curving her full red lips as she starts passing out drinks from the heavy tray she carries.
She comes to me after she empties her tray, her dark brown gaze connecting with mine.
“Ah, a fresh face. I see you have a beer already, but do you need anything else? Something to eat, another drink?”
“Get him a shot,” Logan says, his voice already slurred. “Tequila. Patrón.”
She looks at me expectantly but she’s talking to Logan. “Only one shot, birthday boy?”
“Get us a round of eight.”
What the hell? “I’m not doing a bunch of shots with you. I don’t care if it’s your birthday or not.”
“Don’t be such a downer.” Logan waves a hand. “Eight shots of Patrón, pretty lady. Hey, what are you doing later? Wanna come with us when we take the party to our next stop?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Sorry, I work until one. I appreciate the offer, though.” Her gaze meets mine once more. “Another beer, maybe?”
“Sure.” I shrug. I’ll do one shot and the second beer and then I’m done. Being drunk means being out of control, and I don’t like that.
Turning on her heel, she threads her way through the crowded room, earning more than a few appreciative glances and low whistles. The minute she’s gone, they all start talking about her. Her ass, her tits, her pretty face.
“She has a mouth made for cock sucking,” Jace says with all the authority in the world.
I nod in agreement, feeling like an ass for doing even that. Put a bunch of guys together, fill them with alcohol, and we turn into complete assholes.
“Wait till you see the other one,” Logan pipes up. “Talk about a mouth made for cock sucking. And from what I hear, she’s done that and more with a few lucky bastards that are here tonight.”
Laughter rings throughout the room. Logan says it loud enough and I know. I know without a doubt they’re talking about Fable. She admitted it to me when we were together. How she messed around with a few of my teammates, though she said she never took it too far.
Had she lied? Just trying to save face so she wouldn’t look like a slut? I don’t think she’s a slut.
You thought she was a slut when you hired her to be your fake girlfriend. That’s the reason you chose her.
I shove the irritating-as-shit voice out of my head and finish off my beer.
The alcohol is already working its magic, sliding through my veins, buzzing through my head.
Miss Tall, Dark, and Pretty shows back up relatively quick, handing a fresh beer over to me with a smile before she lines up the eight shots of Patrón in front of Logan with a little flourish.
He immediately takes a near overflowing shot glass and raises it toward me. “Come on, Callahan.”
I grab one, a few other guys grab one as well, and we’re all clinking glasses, saluting Logan before we down them simultaneously. The tequila burns down my throat and I grimace, laughing when Logan shoves another shot glass into my hand, and I toss that one back, too.
Within minutes I’m feeling no pain. Fuck my problems, I’m good. I’ve polished off three shots and two beers and nothing can hurt me. Nothing.
Until the girl I love more than anyone else in the world strides into the room looking like my every fantasy come to life.
Fable
I told myself again and again no way would Drew be here. And then I enter the private room where the party’s being held to relieve Jen so she can take a break, and there he is.
Breathtakingly gorgeous, looking as shocked as I feel … and drunk.
I see it in his eyes, his expression, in the wobbly way he jumps to his feet as if he’s going to come for me.
But then it’s as if he remembers himself, remembers where he’s at.
He settles back into his chair, laughing at whatever the guy sitting next to him is saying, but his gaze never, ever leaves me.
I want to run to him. I want to run away from him. Holy shit, this is so not how I saw it going down when I finally came face-to-face with him again!
“You’re looking good, Fable.” One of the senior football players—I think his name is Tad? Ty?—eyes me, his mouth curved in a knowing smirk.
Knowing because yes, he’s a shameful moment from my past. Barely out of high school and so eager to please, I used to watch the team practice, sitting on the sidelines in the heat of the summer in my too-short shorts and my skimpy tank top.
Tad, Ty, whatever his name is asked me out, and I accepted and ended up giving him a blow job while in his car on our first and only date.
Not one of my proudest moments. But at the time, I cherished the attention he gave me. I was so needy, so foolish.
Of course, the jerk never called. Not that I would’ve gone out with him again. One awkward blow job was more than enough between us, thank you very much.
“Thanks.” I smile, pretending I don’t know him. “Would you like to order something else?”