Chapter 4
Marty
“And one-two-three, one-two-three,” my tango instructor, Jenni, says as I work with my partner, moving in a circle around the classroom.
“Tango would be a great way to help you learn to let go,” my therapist said.
“It’ll get you out of your comfort zone.”
“You could make some new friends.”
She might’ve been right about all that, but going with the flow isn’t really my thing, and when I fuck up again during my Sunday afternoon class at the student center, I halt in place, trying to remember which foot I need to start with to get going again.
“We’re supposed to keep moving,” my partner says, sounding annoyed because this isn’t the first time I’ve messed up during this song…or the first time she’s been paired with me.
“I just need a second.”
One of the other pairs, an older couple who said on the first day that they joined to reignite the spark in their relationship, passes by.
“Keep moving, Marty!” Jenni calls out. “You were doing fine!”
“Okay, okay,” I say, forcing myself to continue, fumbling my way through the basic steps we’re learning, then move on for a few more steps.
Tango is not exactly effortless for a guy as uptight as I am, but I’m such a ball of anxiety, I’ll try anything if it might help me out.
Meditation.
Yoga.
Cognitive behavioral therapy.
Dialectical behavioral therapy.
All my attempts the past few years have helped, but I’m a work in progress. That’s what my therapist says, at least.
After class wraps up, Jenni pulls me aside. “Hey, Marty, how are you feeling so far about the class?”
“Eh, it’s okay.”
“I would encourage you to practice at home a little more.”
“Practice would be a lot easier if I didn’t have a roommate.” Several times now Ryan’s stormed in when I’ve been in the middle of working on my steps. Guy really gets a kick out of that. “Oh, no, please. Keep going. I gotta see this.”
That goddamn frathole.
“Maybe your roommate could help you,” Jenni says.
If only she knew how pissed Ryan has been at me the past week, she’d realize he’s not helping me with much of anything right now.
“Just try to relax. That’s what tango’s all about. Going with the flow. Easing up. And if you mess up—”
“I know, keep going. Easier said than done.”
She grins. “You’re doing fine. I don’t mean to single you out. I can tell by the way you’re doing it that you’re in your head, trying to get it right, and that’s not how tango works. Be easy on yourself.”
Jenni doesn’t know I’m here at the recommendation of my therapist, and I don’t see a reason to point it out, so I thank her for her suggestion before grabbing my bag and heading out.
When I get out to the courtyard, I consider giving my brother a call.
You just talked to him yesterday. He’s doing fine.
My younger brother, Aiden, is in high school right now, and he’s suddenly too cool to talk to his big bro, so I try to give him his space.
I return to the house to find Angie, Ty, and Lance hanging out in the living area.
Angie Williams looks like a goddess, sitting on the sofa, her brown hair practically sparkling in the afternoon light that filters in through the blinds.
She laughs at something Lance says, rolling her head back, all teeth as she cherishes the moment.
Simply seeing her so at ease relaxes the muscles I tensed up through most of my class earlier.
As she recovers from her laugh, she spots me, her eyes lighting up, only it’s the same way they light up when she sees Lance. Like she’s seeing a friend. Of all the guys Angie could pick to go out with, I know Marty McGovern is very far down her list.
“How was tango class?” she asks.
“Uh…”
When I first signed up, I figured this would be something I did without anyone knowing, but between Lance’s chatty mouth and Ryan being a douche, the secret’s out.
“Class was fine,” I lie.
I gravitate to Angie, settling on the couch beside her.
She moves closer to me and takes a whiff. “Oh, Marty, I always love your cologne. I could smell it all day.”
My cheeks warm, and I giggle—at least the closest thing I do to a giggle—and it even takes her by surprise.
“You gonna teach me any moves?” she teases.
“How about once I’ve had more than two classes?”
“I think Lance should take some dance classes,” Ty says from the love seat he and Lance sit on.
“Tango?” Lance asks.
“Maybe pole dancing,” Ty jokes.
Lance practically crawls onto Ty. “I bet you’d like that.”
Lance and Ty are so into each other, and I must admit, I’m a little envious of the amount of time Lance spends with Ty now.
Before he partnered up, it was Lance and me, and before that it was Lance, Ash, and me, but now that Lance has Ty and Ash has Colin, I’m the only one flying solo.
Not that I don’t want Lance to be happy.
I love how good his Sigma Alpha guy is to him, but it used to be us hanging out on Sunday evenings, not him sitting in his boyfriend’s lap.
“It’d be fun to learn to pole dance and then maybe make a set list to play for you,” Lance says, then kisses Ty—way too intimately for a public kiss.
“Ash and Colin may have rubbed off on you guys,” I say. Not that Lance and Ty are into exhibitionism. At least, not that I know of.
“I’m pretty sure they would have mentioned a four-way to me,” Angie jokes, which gets the guys laughing.
“Ew, gross,” I say.
“What’s gross?” Dax asks as he heads through the door. I’d say Dax is Sigma Alpha’s most charming frat. He’s earned a reputation for seducing more than a few of my peers out of the closet. Seems to have a talent for it, and even the guys who don’t want to get in his pants, want to hang with him.
He’s just cool…the opposite of me, basically.
Ryan heads in right behind him, and I clench my fists. Fucking A.
I couldn’t go an afternoon without seeing that prick? Is it not enough that I have to see him every night before I go to bed? And every morning when I wake up?
“Our four-way with Ash and Colin,” Ty replies, which has Lance in stitches.
Dax’s brows tug closer together. “I don’t get why that’s amusing. That sounds hot as hell.”
I retch. “Now I’m gonna have that image stuck in my head.”
Dax shrugs as he and Ryan approach the couch.
Ryan gets right in front of Angie, resting his hand on his hip, his lips curling into a smirk.
Why is he so close to her? He stands there, posing in a way that shows off his body in his tank top, his muscles really popping.
Sure, he talks to her sometimes, but this seems different, and I’m suspicious of his motives.
Would Ryan be a dick enough to flirt with her to get back at me for getting him placed on probation?
I already know the answer.
“I’m guessing you guys were at the gym,” I say through my teeth.
“Yeah,” Ryan says. “Met with my trainer for drills this morning, then headed over to get my pump. Gotta stay in shape for next week.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Angie says. “You gotta show off your skills, and then the teams are gonna be fighting to see who you’ll sign with for the NFL.”
The way she says it, she’s clearly trying to flatter him, but he tenses up, which is strange for him. I would have thought that would hit his ego in the sweet spot. It’s almost like the guy’s nervous or something, which I’ve never seen him be about football.
“Yeah, sure,” Ryan says. “That’s how the Combine should go, I guess. But what’s up with you, Ang?”
“It’s Angie,” I correct.
“It’s fine. I like Ang,” she says as she drinks him in, and that’s definitely not the way she looks at me or Lance.
I’ve noticed her sneaking looks Ryan’s way every once in a while. And if she bones the enemy…I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.
Not that I have any say in who she sleeps with, but dear God, please let it not be Ryan-fucking-Lorde.
“I swung by to spend some time with the guys,” she says. “We’re waiting for Payton, and then we were gonna head out to get some pizza at Junkie’s. You guys want to come with?”
“I’d like that,” Ryan says. “But if you’re hungry, I can grab you a little something from the kitchen.”
“I don’t know that you can offer up any of Payton’s protein bars, but I’m craving some peanut butter and chocolate right now.”
Ryan buys his own of these protein bars, but he’s notorious for digging into Payton’s stash when he runs out.
“I grabbed my own earlier this week,” he says. “They’re fucking addicting, right?”
“They really are.”
He moves closer to Angie, and I can’t help myself. “Kitchen’s over there,” I say, pointing it out, earning looks from everyone.
Funny to think I felt so good when I saw Angie was here, only for it to be ruined by Ryan.
“Mart, you didn’t offer her something already?” he asks. “Why are you being rude to our guest?”
“I just got here,” I grumble.
“Be right back.” He winks at her before heading into the kitchen.
“Speaking of which, I could use a drink,” I say.
“I can get it,” Ryan calls.
“Nah, I’m right behind you.”
Ryan moves his slow ass toward the pantry, so I sidle up beside him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I whisper.
He side-eyes me. “What’s your problem?”
“I don’t like the fact that you’re pretending to be into Angie so that you can get back at me.”
He flinches. “Angie? I’m trying to be nice. But if I weren’t, as far as I’m aware, there aren’t any rules against flirting with girls Marty McGovern likes.”
Fuck him to hell and back. “Last I checked, the asshole jock isn’t really her type.”
“From general observation, she doesn’t seem too cool with the uptight asshole either.”
As we reach the pantry, I jump in front of it, commanding his attention. “Stop this,” I insist.
“There’s nothing to stop, Mart, but if there was, what would you do? Punch me? Nah, ’cause that’s against the rules.” He really drives that last part in, stressing why he’s so angry with me.
I’m not the kind to throw punches, but if I were, I’m certain I already would have with this prick.
“Now,” he says, “if you’ll excuse me, I was getting Angie a protein bar.”