Chapter 4
four
Reese
The pom-pom hit my face with a smack, blinding me momentarily. Cheerleading could very well be the damn death of me. I blinked rapidly to adjust my vision, as I tossed my practice bag on the floor.
"You almost took my eye out, Lo!" I scolded my little sister, Lola. She ignored me, lost in her own world of chants and cartwheels. She had been practicing in the living room all day. She’d started before I left for practice, and when I got home she was still leaping and kicking with complete disregard for the innocent bystanders passing through the house.
"You’ve been at it for hours," I added dryly, sidestepping a discarded cheer shoe as I made my way to the kitchen.
She glanced at me mid-headstand. "Yeah, I’m panicking," she said, out of breath. “I have tryouts for Elite cheer in a few weeks. The only reason I didn’t go with mom and dad to the beach house this summer. I have to focus, and bootcamp is coming up next week."
I nodded, peeking back at her legs flying through the air again. "Well, I can’t stand the music. I'm gonna go meet the boys for a drink. Text me if you need anything."
She didn’t even glance back at me to respond. The door closed behind me with a gentle click, sealing away the endless loop of cheer music.
The neon sign of Gin & Jerry’s Pub buzzed as I pushed open the door and stepped into its familiar darkness.
My eyes adjusted, scanning for any sign of the boys, but of course—late as usual.
I slid onto a barstool, catching the nod from RJ, a bartender I knew well.
Middle-aged, with a long dark beard and a no-nonsense vibe, he barely paused before reaching for a frosted glass.
"Evening, Reese," he grunted, sliding my usual order across the bar.
"Hey, RJ." I returned a nod. The cold bottle touched my lips, and the first swig of beer was a bitter comfort.
As soon as I set the glass down, I felt it—a pair of gentle hands gliding across my shoulder blades.
"Mind if I sit?" Without even glancing over, I knew who it was—Blair. I would recognize that voice anywhere, and just like that, irritation clawed its way up my spine.
"Even if I said no, you'd sit there regardless, Blair.” My grip on the bottle tightened just enough to hide my irritation. Rather than sitting next to me, she slid right onto my lap.
"I like this seat better, and… I know you've missed me. Even if you won't admit it," she smiled softly, trailing her nails over the back of my neck.
With a flicker of a smirk, I took another pull from my beer. "If that's what you need to tell yourself.”
"We used to be so good together." Blair's voice softened, but it wasn’t genuine.
"Were we, though? And aren’t you with that old guy?" I couldn't resist throwing that dig, despite my disinterest.
"He's not old," she snapped back. "He's a yacht captain, and for your information, we ended things."
"Why? His wife finally caught on?" I tossed out, barely interested at this point, wondering why I was even still entertaining her.
"Can we just skip over this and get to the make-up sex part of the night?" she purred. "It’s been way too damn long.”
“This is getting old, Blair.” I took another sip, as I slowly scanned the bar wondering where the fuck my friends were. I could kill them right now.
"Remember that time I brought you to your knees, down into the dirt at the ball field?" Blair whispered into my ear. “You tasted so good.”
"Blair," I breathed, trying my damn hardest to push away the mental images resurfacing. I could still feel the roughness of the chain-link fence against my palms that day. The excitement of knowing we could get caught at any moment.
"I’ll never forget how your head rolled back." Her breath was hot against my ear, her tongue slowly stroking and nibbling.
"That was a long time ago," I managed to say, tilting my head away just enough to break free from the grip her tongue had on my ear.
"Why don't I remind you?" she suggested, lashes fluttering with hope. "In the bathroom?"
Fuck. Bathroom head? She was pulling out all the stops now.
But this was Blair. If I gave her an inch, she'd take a fucking mile, and I didn't have a mile to give.
This would lead nowhere good. Giving into Blair would end in disaster.
I bit my knuckle, looking away from her, and carefully thinking about my next words, my next decision.
Blair's fingers trailed down my shirt, making a path down from my chest toward the ridges of my abs.
Surprised by my own indifference, I caught her wrist gently but firmly, stopping her before she landed on her target. “I appreciate the offer. Tempting, but no," I said, and her eyes met mine with a mix of surprise and confusion.
"Reese, really?" she murmured.
"Really, I'm good, Blair." Disappointment flickered across her face before she hid it with a forced pout.
With a huff, she slid off my lap and crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. "Fine, but my drinks are on you tonight."
I didn't miss the bartender's knowing glance our way.
He'd been an audience to Blair's failed attempt at seducing me.
Without breaking eye contact with her, I gave him a subtle nod, agreeing to the transactional peace offering.
It seemed like a small price to pay for ruining whatever plan she had for tonight.
Finally, the door swung open as Bailey and Crew walked in. They both grabbed a stool and took a place at the bar.
“Alright, chat… we made it to the bar so you have ten seconds to throw any last minute gifts at me before I log off for the night,” Bailey said, smirking into his phone like an idiot. Lately he was obsessed with making as much money as he could talking to what he called “his fans” online.
"What’s up, bud?" Crew greeted me first with a nod as he took a seat.
Bailey turned off his phone and leaned back in a relaxed manner, casually draping an arm over the top of the tall bar stool. His grin widened as he looked at Blair. "Well, well, look who's here. The devil herself."
Blair squinted at him. "And you'd be the first person I'd send straight to hell," she fired back. It brought back memories of the constant jabs they’d exchange when Blair and I were together—they never got along.
Crew caught the bartender's attention with a lazy flick of his wrist. "On that note, we'll take some shots over here. "
"Getting bored now," Blair announced abruptly, pushing away from her stool. Her eyes locked onto mine for a moment. "You boys enjoy your night. Reese, if you change your mind," she squeezed my arm, "you know my number."
The others didn't seem to notice her leave, already caught up in the anticipation of shots being lined up before us. Then I caught the tail end of Crew's sentence. “…Season is almost over."
Bailey leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. "Can’t believe it’s our last summer together."
“Let’s make these next weeks count,” I called out, lifting my shot into the air.
As the heat from the shot warmed my chest, I thought about these next few weeks with the boys.
Constant laughter and reckless stupidity, the adrenaline of game days, chasing girls and random hook-ups–-it no longer had the same appeal it once did.
And, I knew who shifted my outlook on it all.
Chandler. As bittersweet as it was, last summer had been a turning point.
I knew letting her go was the right move.
For her, for me. But she showed me what I wanted in a relationship—substance, depth, something more meaningful.
It was a glimpse into the future that I wanted, even if I may not be ready for it just yet.
I was grateful for the lessons she’d taught me.
"Reese, you in there?" Crew's voice interrupted my thoughts, his hand waving in front of my face, snapping me back. “Wells Clark just walked in.”
A loud sigh escaped me as I leaned back.
He was almost as cocky as me, except I wasn’t sure if he actually had a brain.
He was a walking cliché in the form of a college football quarterback.
Him and I had gotten into a little incident a while back, and let’s just say my fist ended the night after connecting straight into his jaw.
"Hey, look, it's the soccer team," he drawled, a smirk plastered across his face as he approached us.
Bailey, who was on his second beer next to me, set his drink down. "Baseball," he corrected.
"Ah, you know what I mean." Wells shrugged off the correction with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "You play with balls, same thing." His attempt at humor fell flat.
I arched an eyebrow at Wells. "You do realize that the pigskin you toss around is called a ball too, right?" I had to hold back a smile at the flicker of confusion on his face.
His laughter was loud and abrupt, making Crew flinch. "Oh yeah, you're right," he conceded with a grin. "Guess I play with balls too, I mean… besides my own."
"Every word exchanged with you is a brain cell I will never get back," I whispered under my breath.
Wells, unfazed by my comment, leaned closer, the smell of his cheap cologne overpowering the stale beer smell. "By the way, I saw your little sister doing her thing at cheer camp while we were practicing on the field. She's a real looker—"
"If you speak about my little sister again, I promise you, you won’t be able to walk out of here, let alone speak again."
“Damnit, I would have worn my other shoes tonight if I knew we were getting into a bar fight.” Bailey crossed him arms. “Although, Reese didn’t need any help beating your ass sophomore year.”
Wells' smile faltered. His friend stepped in with hands raised. "Woah, woah," he said, trying to diffuse the situation. "We're all just here to have a good time."
The muscles in my jaw ticked with barely-restrained anger. "You've got about thirty seconds to get him out of my face before my fist ends up in his. Again."
The friend, eyes flickering between me and Wells, seemed to grasp the gravity of the threat. He tugged at Wells' sleeve, urging him away with a nervous glance in my direction.
"Alright, alright," Wells conceded with a dismissive wave of his hand, the cocky grin slipping back onto his face. "We'll continue this conversation another night."
"Yeah, get lost, Clark!" Crew yelled as he retreated.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, tossing my bear in the trash.
As I wandered back toward the bathroom, a sharp poke jolted me from behind. The annoyance came with a voice, grating yet familiar. "What the hell was that?" Caroline asked, accusingly.
I turned, the low flicker of an overhead light casting half her face in shadow, the other half illuminated just enough to reveal those piercing blue eyes. "What?"
She was small, but her presence filled the space like she could command the room with nothing more than her fiery spirit. "Why the hell did you pay for our dinner?"
The corners of my mouth twitched into a smirk. My eyes locked onto hers. "I guess that's one way to say thank you."
Caroline's lips parted, ready to launch another verbal missile. "Did you spit in the manicotti? Was that the joke?"
"We left before the chef even started making it," I shot back.
"Then why did you do it?" Caroline asked.
"I don't know," I said dryly, shrugging. "Consider it a birthday present. Trust me, it didn't hurt my pockets."
I saw Caroline's posture tense, her shoulders locking in like she was bracing for a battle she'd been through a hundred times. "We didn't need you to pay for us like we're some charity case," she snapped.
Whoa. What the hell is that response? Charity had never crossed my mind.
"Charity?" I echoed, while a sly grin played at the corner of my mouth.
"Nah, think of it more as... community service.
" I leaned against the rough brick wall behind me, hoping this would continue on.
I had come to love these sparring matches with Caroline.
I could tell my words had hit their mark, ruffling her feathers just enough. We played this game well over the years. I annoy her to no end, and it somehow warmed my cold heart.
"Community service," she repeated. "You’re such a prick. We don’t want anything from you."
"Too late," I exhaled, sharply. "It's already done."
"How do you do that?" she asked, her voice sharp. "Just walk around being the most aggravating person that ever existed?"
"One of my many talents," I replied, the words rolling off my tongue effortlessly. “You should see what else I can do.”
"What was the total?" Caroline asked, all serious and businesslike. "I'm paying you back right now."
There was something recklessly wild that always seemed to cling to her. I shook my head, the smirk never quite leaving my face. "Nah, I don't need your money." I paused, letting the anticipation build. "But you can pay me back in another way. I need a favor."